The Workes of Benjamin Jonson | ||
To Mr. Iohn Burges.
Would God my Burges, I could thinkeThoughts worthy of thy gift, this Inke,
Then would I promise here to give
Verse, that should thee, and me out-live.
But since the Wine hath steep'd my braine
I only can the Paper staine;
Yet with a Dye, that feares no Moth,
But Scarlet-like out-lasts the Cloth.
The Workes of Benjamin Jonson | ||