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University of Virginia Library

The Workes of Benjamin Jonson

Jonson, Ben (1573?-1637)

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[My masters and friends, and good people draw neere]

[I was not wearier where I lay]

[Roome, roome, make roome for the bouncing bellie]

[Come on, come on; and where you go]

1. Straine. Song 2.

[From a Gipsie, in the morning]

[Come noble Nymphs, and doe not hide]

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VNDER-VVOODS. POEMS OF DEVOTION.

The Sinners Sacrifice.

A Hymne to God the Father.

A Hymne On the Nativitie of my Saviour.

A Celebration of Charis in ten Lyrick Peeces.

The Musicall strife;

In the person of Woman kind.

Another. In defence of their Inconstancie.

A Nymphs Passion.

The Houre-glasse.

My Picture left in Scotland.

Against Iealousie.

An Epitaph on Master Vincent Corbet.

An Epistle to Sir Edvvard Sacvile, now Earle of Dorset.

An Epistle to Master Iohn Selden.

An Epistle to a Friend, to perswade him to the Warres.

An Epitaph on Master Philip Gray.

Epistle To a Friend.

A Satyricall Shrub.

A little Shrub growing by.

An Ode. To himselfe.

The mind of the Frontispice to a Booke.

An Ode to Iames Earle of Desmond,

A Sonnet. To the noble Lady, the Lady Mary Worth.

A Fit of Rime against Rime.

An Epigram On Willam Lord Burl: Lo: high %Treasurer of England.

An Epigram. To Thomas Lo: Elsmere,

Another to him.

An Epigram to the Councellour that pleaded, and carried the Cause.

An Epigram. To the small Poxe.

An Epistle to a friend.

An Execration upon Vulcan.

A speach according to Horace.

An Epistle to Master Arth: Squib.

An Epigram on Sir Edward Coke,

An Epistle answering to one that asked to be Sealed of the Tribe of Ben.

The Dedication of the Kings new Cellar.

An Epigram on The Court Pucell.

An Epigram. To the honour'd --- Countesse of ---

Lord Bacons Birth-day.

A Poëme sent me by Sir William Burlase.

An Epigram. To, William, Earle of Newcastle.

Epistle To Mr. Arthur Squib.

To Mr. Iohn Burges.

Epistle. To my Lady Covell.

To Master Iohn Burges.

Epigram, to my Book-seller.

An Epigram. To William Earle of Newcastle.

An Epitaph, on Henry L. La-ware.

An Epigram. To K. Charles

To K Charles, and Q Mary.

An Epigram. To our great and good K. Charles On his Anniversary Day.

An Epigram on the Princes birth

An Epigram to the Queene, then lying in.

An Ode, or Song, by all the Muses.

An Epigram, To the House-hold.

Epigram. To a Friend, and Sonne.

To the immortall memorie, and friendship of that noble paire, Sir Lvcivs Cary, and Sir H. Morison.

To the Right Honourable, the Lord high Treasurer of England.

To the King. On his Birth-day.

On the Right Honourable, and vertuous Lord Weston, L. high Treasurer of England,

To the Right honble Hierome, L. Weston.

The humble Petition of poore Ben.

To the right Honourable, the Lord Treasurer of England.

An Epigram To my MUSE, the Lady Digby, on her Husband, Sir Kenelme Digby.

[New yeares, expect new gifts: Sister, your Harpe]

A New-yeares-Gift sung to King Charles, 1635.

On the Kings Birth-day.

To my L. the King,

An Elegie On the Lady Anne Pavvlet, Marchion: of Winton.

The praises of a Countrie life.

Ode the first. The fourth Booke. To Venus.

Ode IX. 3 Booke, to Lydia. Dialogue of Horace, and Lydia.

Fragmentum Petron. Arbitr.

Epigramma Martialis. Lib. viii. Lxxvii.

[Though I am young, and cannot tell, ]

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190

A Satyricall Shrub.

A Womans friendship! God whom I trust in,
Forgive me this one foolish deadly sin;
Amongst my many other, that I may
No more, I am sorry for so fond cause, say
At fifty yeares, almost, to value it,
That ne're was knowne to last above a fit?
Or have the least of Good, but what it must
Put on for fashion, and take up on trust:
Knew I all this afore? had I perceiv'd,
That their whole life was wickednesse, though weav'd
Of many Colours; outward fresh, from spots,
But their whole inside full of ends, and knots?
Knew I, that all their Dialogues, and discourse,
were such as I will now relate, or worse.

[_]

Here, something is wanting.

------
------
Knew I this Woman? yes; And you doe see,
How penitent I am, or I should be?
Doe not you aske to know her, she is worse
Then all Ingredients made into one curse,
And that pour'd out upon Man-kind can be!
Thinke but the Sin of all her sex, 'tis she!
I could forgive her being proud! a whore!
Perjur'd! and painted! if she were no more—,
But she is such, as she might, yet forestall
The Divell; and be the damning of us all.