Tudor and Stuart Love Songs — Ben Jonson

PERFECT BEAUTY.

It was a beauty that I saw, So pure, so perfect, as the frame Of all the universe was lame, To that one figure, could I draw, Or give least line of it a law!

A skein of silk without a knot, A fair march made without a halt, A curious form without a fault, A printed book without a blot, All beauty, and without a spot!

Ben Jonson.

TO CELIA.

Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine;

But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be: But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee!

Ben Jonson.