And such, since thou canst make thine own content,
Strive, Wroth, to live long innocent.
Let others watch in guilty arms, and stand
The fury of a rash command,

Go enter breaches, meet the cannon's rage,
That they may sleep with scars in age;
And shew their feathers shot, and colours torn,
And brag that they were therefore born.
Let this man sweat, and wrangle at the bar,
For every price, in every jar,

And change possessions oftner with his breath,
Than either money, war, or death:

Let him, than hardest sires, more disinherit,
And each where boast it as his merit,
To blow up orphans, widows, and their states;
And think his power doth equal fate's.
Let that go heap a mass of wretched wealth,
Purchased by rapine, worse than stealth,
And brooding o'er it sit, with broadest eyes,
Not doing good, scarce when he dies.
Let thousands more go flatter vice, and win,
By being organs to great sin;

Get place and honour, and be glad to keep
The secrets that shall break their sleep:
And so they ride in purple, eat in plate,
Though poison, think it a great fate.
But thou, my Wroth, if I can truth apply,
Shalt neither that, nor this envỳ:

Thy peace is made; and when man's state is well, 'Tis better, if he there can dwell.

God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf: To him man's dearer, than t' himself,"

And howsoever we may think things sweet,

C

He always gives what he knows meet;

2 God wisheth none should wreck on a strange shelf:

To him man's dearer than t' himself.] The sentiment, with the

Which who can use is happy: Such be thou.
Thy morning's and thy evening's vow
Be thanks to him, and earnest pray'r, to find
A body sound, with sounder mind;
To do thy country service, thy self right;
That neither want do thee affright,

Nor death; but when thy latest sand is spent,
Thou may'st think life a thing but lent.3

IV.

TO THE WORLD.

A Farewell for a Gentlewoman, virtuous and noble.

ALSE world, good-night! since thou hast

brought

age,

That hour upon my morn of
Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,
My part is ended on thy stage.

Do not once hope that thou canst tempt
A spirit so resolv'd to tread

Upon thy throat, and live exempt

From all the nets that thou canst spread.

following verses, is taken from that celebrated passage in the 10th satire of Juvenal:

Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid
Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris;
Nam pro jucundis aptissima quæque dabunt dii.
Carior est illis homo, quam sibi-

Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.

A shelf, or shelve, is a bank of sand. WHAL.

3 Thou may'st think life a thing but lent.] This is a very beautiful Epode, honourable alike to the writer, and the subject of it. How nobly do Jonson's lines rise above the common addresses of his age! he is familiar with decorum, and moral with dignity; while his unbounded command of classic images gives a force to his language, which renders his description of the humblest object interesting.

I know thy forms are studied arts,
Thy subtle ways be narrow straits;
Thy courtesy but sudden starts,

And what thou call'st thy gifts are baits. I know too, though thou strut and paint, Yet art thou both shrunk up, and old; That only fools make thee a saint,

And all thy good is to be sold.

I know thou whole art but a shop
Of toys and trifles, traps and snares,
To take the weak, or make them stop:
Yet art thou falser than thy wares.

And knowing this should I yet stay,
Like such as blow away their lives,
And never will redeem a day,

Enamour'd of their golden gyves ?

Or having 'scaped shall I return,
And thrust my neck into the noose,
From whence so lately, I did burn,
With all my powers, my self to loose?

What bird, or beast is known so dull,
That fled his cage, or broke his chain,
And tasting air and freedom, wull
Render his head in there again?

If these who have but sense, can shun The engines, that have them annoy'd; Little for me had reason done,

If I could not thy gins avoid.

Yes, threaten, do. Alas, I fear

As little, as I hope from thee:
I know thou canst nor shew, nor bear
More hatred, than thou hast to me.

My tender, first, and simple years
Thou didst abuse, and then betray;
Since stirr'dst up jealousies and fears,
When all the causes were away.
Then in a soil hast planted me,

Where breathe the basest of thy fools; Where envious arts professed be,

And pride and ignorance the schools: Where nothing is examin'd, weigh'd, But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed; Where every freedom is betray'd,

And every goodness tax'd or grieved.
But what we're born for, we must bear :
Our frail condition it is such,
That what to all may happen here,

If't chance to me, I must not grutch.
Else I my state should much mistake,
To harbour a divided thought
From all my kind; that for my sake,
There should a miracle be wrought.
No, I do know that I was born

To age, misfortune, sickness, grief:
But I will bear these with that scorn,
As shall not need thy false relief.

Nor for my peace will I go far,

As wanderers do, that still do roam; But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home.

V.

SONG.

TO CELIA.

OME, my Celia, let us prove,
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours for ever:
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set, may rise again;
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumour are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor houshold spies;
Or his easier ears beguile,
So removed by our wile?

'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal,

But the sweet theft to reveal:

To be taken, to be seen,

These have crimes accounted been.

VI.

TO THE SAME.

ISS me, sweet: the wary lover
Can your favours keep, and cover,
When the common courting jay
All
your bounties will betray.

Kiss again no creature comes.

Kiss, and score up wealthy sums

▲ Come, my Celia, &c.] This beautiful song is to be found in