Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
Garnished and decked with modest complement,'
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And, but in purgéd judgment, trusting neither?
Such and so finely bolted 2 didst thou seem.
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot

To mark the full-fraught man and best indued 3
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;

For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another Fall of Man.

FIVE SONNETS 4

XVIII. ETERNAL LINES

SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate :
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date :
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; 5
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

1 completeness

4 See The Sonnet, p. 508.

2 sifted

3 endowed

5

ownest

LXV. TIME AND LOVE

SINCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad Mortality o'ersways their power :

How with this rage shall Beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack!

Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil1 of Beauty can forbid?

O, none; unless this miracle have might;
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

XCI. AN APPRAISEMENT

SOME glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,

Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,

Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; And every humor hath his adjacent pleasure,

Wherein it finds a joy above the rest :

But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And, having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away, and me most wretched make.

1 spoiling, destruction

CXVI. TRUE LOVE

LET me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! it is an ever-fixéd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love 's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

CXLVI. SOUL AND BODY

POOR Soul, the center of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate1 thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men;
And, death once dead, there's no more dying then.

1 increase

BEN JONSON

1574-1637

BENJAMIN JONSON, as he was christened, - Ben Jonson, as he preferred to call himself, and as all the world knows him, - was born of somewhat humble parentage at Westminster in the year 1574. Of his early life the outline is

faint and the details are meager; but we know that at the expense of friends of his deceased father, who had been a clergyman, he studied at Westminster School, and for a brief time at Cambridge University; that being then compelled to work at his stepfather's trade, that of a bricklayer, and finding this occupation one that, as he himself says, he "could not endure," he left it to

enlist in the army, then serving in Flanders, preferring the lot of a private soldier to an employment so little suited either to his attainments or to his temperament. Though Jonson distinguished himself for bravery in the field, this does not appear to have advanced his personal fortunes. Having by some means secured a discharge from military service, he next, according to the generally received account, took some minor parts upon the London stage, and was also engaged in correcting, recasting, and writing plays, though yet under age. What success attended upon these labors does not appear, but it is certain that Jonson's progress was interrupted by the event of a duel in which he became involved, and which resulted in the killing of his opponent. Charged with murder and imprisoned, he was eventually released, though under what circumstances has never been explained.

In 1596, at the age of twenty-two, Jonson produced his first ambitious dramatic composition, "Every Man in His Humor." This play, when first acted in 1598, was not favorably received, but being amended and partly rewritten, the popular verdict was reversed when, one year later, and partly by the influence and help of Shakespeare, it was again put before the public. This drama and "The Alchemist are the only plays of Jonson's which have kept the stage. Other dramas of notable merit were "Sejanus," "Catiline,” and “Volpone;" and besides these he put forth from time to time very many epigrams, lyrics, and minor poems. James I. favored and distinguished the poet in many ways, — he was made poet laureate in 1619, and was employed by the court and by the city of London in little dramatic schemes for pageants, revels, farces, and the like. His various masques," as he called them, prepared for these entertainments, exhibit the finest fancy and originality. Jonson was the inventor of these court amusements throughout the reign of James, and at intervals during the reign of Charles, who, like his predecessor, was Jonson's generous patron. To the very close of his life the poet's literary activity was great. One of his last productions, a pastoral poem entitled “The Sad Shepherd,” has a well-deserved reputation for the simplicity and great beauty of its diction.

Jonson's declining days were clouded with misfortune. He was stricken with paralysis, and influential enemies at court were able to delay and partly to cut off his salary as laureate. Clamorous creditors pursued the old poet, and to satisfy these he was compelled to write begging letters to many friends and former patrons. Death released him from these ills on the 6th of August, 1637. A pavement-stone over his grave in Westminster Abbey bears the brief legend: “O Rare Ben Jonson !"

General consent accords to Ben Jonson the second place among the dramatists of his time. That as a poet also he was second, some judgments have denied. To say that he stands next to Shakespeare seems superlative praise when we consider how much greater was the latter than any of his contemporaries; but the originality, versatility, and amount of his work, and his vast and solid learning, entitle Jonson to the distinction. A suggestive comparison between Jonson and Shakespeare is afforded in the oft-quoted