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The Workes of Benjamin Jonson

Jonson, Ben (1573?-1637)

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[volume]
  
To Ben. Ionson, on his VVorks.
  
ON THE AUTHOR, The Poet Laureat, Ben. Jonson.
  
On his elaborated Art-contrived Playes.
  
Upon Sejanus.
  
To His worthy friend, Ben. Ionson. Vpon his Sejanus.
  
TO MY FRIEND, Mr. Ben. Jonson. Vpon his Alchymist.
  
To my deare friend, M. Ben. Ionson. Vpon his Fox.
  
UPON THE SILENT WOMAN.
  
To my friend M. Ben. Ionson. Vpon his Catiline.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
The Hymne.
  
Song.
  
[Swell me a bowle with lustie wine]
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
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EPIGRAMMES. I. BOOKE.
  
[dedication]
 I. 
I. To the Reader.
 II. 
II. To my Book.
 III. 
III. To my Book-seller.
 IIII. 
IIII. To King James.
 V. 
V. On The Union.
 VI. 
VI. To Alchymists.
 VII. 
VII. On the New Hot-house.
 VIII. 
VIII. On A Robbery.
 IX. 
IX. To All, To Whom I Write.
 X. 
X To My Lord Ignorant.
 XI. 
XI. On Some-thing, That Walkes Some-where.
 XII. 
XII. On Lieutenant Shift.
 XIII. 
XIII. To Doctor Empirick.
 XIV. 
XIV. To William Camden.
 XV. 
XV. On Court-worme.
 XVI. 
XVI. To Braine-hardy.
 XVII. 
XVII. To the learned Critick.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. To My Meere English Censurer.
 XIX. 
XIX. On Sir Cod The Perfumed.
 XX. 
XX. To The Same Sir Cod [The Perfumed].
 XXI. 
XXI. On Reformed Gam'ster.
 XXII. 
XXII. On My First Daughter.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. To John Donne.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. To The Parliament.
 XXV. 
XXV. On Sir Voluptuous Beast.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. On The Same [Sir Voluptuous] Beast.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. On Sir John Roe.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. On Don Surly.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. To Sir Annual Tilter.
 XXX. 
XXX. To Person Guiltie.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. On Banck The Usurer.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. On Sir John Roe.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. To The Same [Sir John Roe].
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. Of Death.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. To King James.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI. To The Ghost Of Martial.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. On Chev'rill The Lawyer.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. To Person Guiltie.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. On Old Colt.
 XL. 
XL. On Margaret Ratcliffe.
 XLI. 
XLI. On Gypsee.
 XLII. 
XLII. On Giles And Jone.
 XLIII. 
XLIII. To Robert Earle Of Salisburie.
 XLIV. 
XLIV. On Chuffe, Banks The Usurer's Kinsman.
 XLV. 
XLV. On My First Sonne.
 XLVI. 
XLVI. To Sir Lucklesse Woo-All.
 XLVII. 
XLVII. To The Same [Sir Lucklesse Woo-All].
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII. On Mungril Esquire.
 XLIX. 
XLIX. To Play-wright.
 L. 
L. To Sir Cod.
 LI. 
LI. To King James.
 LII. 
LII. To Censorious Courtling.
 LIII. 
LIII. To Old-end Gatherer.
 LIV. 
LIV. On Chev'ril.
 LV. 
LV. To Francis Beaumont.
 LVI. 
LVI. On Poet-Ape.
 LVII. 
LVII. On Baudes, And Usurers.
 LVIII. 
LVIII. To Groome Ideot.
 LIX. 
LIX. On Spies.
 LX. 
LX. To William Lord Mounteagle.
 LXI. 
LXI. To Foole, Or Knave.
 LXII. 
LXII. To Fine Lady Would-bee.
 LXIII. 
LXIII. To Robert Earle Of Salisburie.
 LXIV. 
LXIV. To The Same [Robert Earle Of Salisburie]. Vpon the accession of the Treasurership to him.
 LXV. 
LXV. To My Muse.
 LXVI. 
LXVI. To Sir Henry Cary.
 LXVII. 
LXVII. To Thomas Earle Of Suffolke.
 LXVIII. 
LXVIII. On Play-wright.
 LXIX. 
LXIX. To Pertinax Cob.
 LXX. 
LXX. To William Roe.
 LXXI. 
LXXI. On Court-Parrat.
 LXXII. 
LXXII. To Court-ling.
 LXXIII. 
LXXIII. To Fine Grand.
 LXXIV. 
LXXIV. To Thomas Lord Chancelor.
 LXXV. 
LXXV. On Lippe, The Teacher.
 LXXVI. 
LXXVI. On Lucy Countesse Of Bedford.
 LXXVII. 
LXXVII. To One That Desired Me Not To Name Him.
 LXXVIII. 
LXXVIII. To Hornet.
 LXXIX. 
LXXIX. To Elizabeth Countesse Of Rutland.
 LXXX. 
LXXX. Of Life and Death.
 LXXXI. 
LXXXI. To Proule The Plagiary.
 LXXXII. 
LXXXII. On Cashierd Capt. Surly.
 LXXXIII. 
LXXXIII. To A Friend.
 LXXXIV. 
LXXXIV. To Lucy Countesse Of Bedford.
 LXXXV. 
LXXXV. To Sir Henry Goodyere.
 LXXXVI. 
LXXXVI. To The Same [Sir Henry Goodyere].
 LXXXVII. 
LXXXVII. On Captaine Hazard The Cheater.
 LXXXVIII. 
LXXXVIII. On English Mounsieur.
 LXXXIX. 
LXXXIX. To Edward Allen.
 XC. 
XC. On Mill. My Ladies Woman.
 XCI. 
XCI. To Sir Horace Vere.
 XCII. 
XCII. The New Cry.
 XCIII. 
XCIII. To Sir John Radcliffe.
 XCIV. 
XCIV. To Lucy, Countesse Of Bedford, With Mr. Donnes Satyres.
 XCV. 
XCV. To Sir Henry Savile.
 XCVI. 
XCVI. To John Donne.
 XCVII. 
XCVII. On The New Motion.
 XCVIII. 
XCVIII. To Sir Thomas Roe.
 XCIX. 
XCIX. To The Same [Sir Thomas Roe].
 C. 
C. On Play-wright.
 CI. 
CI. Inviting A Friend To Supper.
 CII. 
CII. To William Earle Of Pembroke.
 CIII. 
CIII. To Mary Lady Wroth.
 CIV. 
CIV. To Susan Countesse Of Montgomery.
 CV. 
CV. To Mary Lady Wroth.
 CVI. 
CVI. TO Sir Edward Herbert.
 CVII. 
CVII. To Captaine Hungry.
 CVIII. 
CVIII. To True Souldiers.
 CIX. 
CIX. To Sir Henry Nevil.
 CX. 
CX. To Clement Edmonds, On His Cæsars Commentaries observed, and translated.
 CXI. 
CXI. To The Same; On The Same [Clement Edmonds, on his Cæsars Commentaries observed, and translated].
 CXII. 
CXII. To A Weake Gamster In Poetry.
 CXIII. 
CXIII. To Sir Thomas Overbury.
 CXIV. 
CXIV. To Mrs. Philip Sydney.
 CXV. 
CXV. On The Townes Honest Man.
 CXVI. 
CXVI. To Sir William Jephson.
 CXVII. 
CXVII. On Groyne.
 CXVIII. 
CXVIII. On Gut.
 CXIX. 
CXIX. To Sir Raph Shelton.
 CXX. 
CXX. An Epitaph On S.P. A Child Of Q. El. Chappel.
 CXXI. 
CXXI. To Benjamin Rudyerd.
 CXXII. 
CXXII. To The Same.
 CXXIII. 
CXXIII. To The Same.
 CXXIV. 
CXXIV. Epitaph On Elizabeth, L.H.
 CXXV. 
CXXV. To Sir William Uvedale.
 CXXVI. 
CXXVI. To His Lady, Then Mrs. Cary.
 CXXVII. 
CXXVII. To Esme, Lord Aubigny.
 CXXVIII. 
CXXVIII. To William Roe.
 CXXIX. 
CXXIX. To Edward Filmer, on his Musicall Work dedicated to the Queen. Anno 1629.
 CXXX. 
CXXX. To Mime.
 CXXXI. 
CXXXI. To Alphonso Ferrabosco, on his Booke.
 CXXXII. 
CXXXII. To The Same.
 CXXXIII. 
CXXXIII. To Mr. Josuah Sylvester.
expand sectionCXXXIV. 
CXXXIV. On The Famous Voyage.
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THE FORREST.
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PART OF THE KINGS ENTERTAINMENT, IN PASSING TO HIS CORONATION.
  
A PANEGYRE, ON THE HAPPY ENTRANCE OF Iames, our Soveraigne, to His first high Session of Parliament in this his Kingdome, the 19 of March, 1603.
  
[This is mab the mistris-Fairy]
  
3 Charme.
  
[Buz, quoth the blue Flie]
  
[Soft, subtill fire, thou soule of Art]
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The Houre-glasse.

Doe but consider this small dust,
Here running in the Glasse,
By Atomes mov'd;
Could you beleeve, that this,
The body was
Of one that lov'd?
And in his Mrs flame, playing like a flye,
Turn'd to cinders by her eye?
Yes; and in death, as life unblest,
To have't exprest,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.
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