But what we’re born for, we must bear: Our frail condition it is such, That what to all may happen here, 55 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. 60 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, 65 As wanderers do, that still do roam; But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home. _Ben Jonson._ XLVI _TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON._ The Muses’ fairest light in no dark time, The wonder of a learnèd age; the line Which none can pass; the most proportioned wit To nature, the best judge of what was fit; The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen; 5 The voice most echoed by consenting men; The soul which answered best to all well said By others, and which most requital made; Tuned to the highest key of ancient Rome, Returning all her music with his own; 10 In whom with nature study claimed a part, And yet who to himself owed all his art: Here lies Ben Jonson! every age will look With sorrow here, with wonder on his book. _John Cleveland._ XLVII _A CONTENTED MIND._ I weigh not fortune’s frown or smile; I joy not much in earthly joys; I seek not state, I seek not style; I am not fond of fancy’s toys; I rest so pleased with what I have, 5 I wish no more, no more I crave. I quake not at the thunder’s crack; I tremble not at noise of war; I swound not at the news of wrack; I shrink not at a blazing star; 10 I fear not loss, I hope not gain, I envy none, I none disdain. I see ambition never pleased; I see some Tantals starved in store; I see gold’s dropsy seldom eased; 15 I see e’en Midas gape for more: I neither want, nor yet abound-- Enough’s a feast, content is crowned. I feign not friendship, where I hate; I fawn not on the great in show; 20 I prize, I praise a mean estate-- Neither too lofty nor too low: This, this is all my choice, my cheer-- A mind content, a conscience clear. _Joshua Sylvester._ XLVIII _SONNET._