Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Ben Jonson. 15731637191. The Noble Balm
HIGH-SPIRITED friend, | |
I send nor balms nor cor’sives to your wound: | |
Your fate hath found | |
A gentler and more agile hand to tend | |
The cure of that which is but corporal; | 5 |
And doubtful days, which were named critical, | |
Have made their fairest flight | |
And now are out of sight. | |
Yet doth some wholesome physic for the mind | |
Wrapp’d in this paper lie, | 10 |
Which in the taking if you misapply, | |
You are unkind. | |
Your covetous hand, | |
Happy in that fair honour it hath gain’d, | |
Must now be rein’d. | 15 |
True valour doth her own renown command | |
In one full action; nor have you now more | |
To do, than be a husband of that store. | |
Think but how dear you bought | |
This fame which you have caught: | 20 |
Such thoughts will make you more in love with truth. | |
‘Tis wisdom, and that high, | |
For men to use their fortune reverently, | |
Even in youth. |