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Ben Jonson - Epode
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Not to know vice at all, and keep true state,
   Is virtue and not fate:
Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,
   And her black spite expel.
Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,
   Or safe, but she`ll procure
Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard
   Of thoughts to watch and ward
At th` eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
   That no strange, or unkind
Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,
   Give knowledge instantly
To wakeful reason, our affections` king:
   Who, in th` examining,
Will quickly taste the treason, and commit
   Close, the close cause of it.
`Tis the securest policy we have,
   To make our sense our slave.
But this true course is not embraced by many:
   By many! scarce by any.
For either our affections do rebel,
   Or else the sentinel,
That should ring `larum to the heart, doth sleep:
   Or some great thought doth keep
Back the intelligence, and falsely swears
   They`re base and idle fears
Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.
   Thus, by these subtle trains,
Do several passions invade the mind,
   And strike our reason blind:
Of which usurping rank, some have thought love
   The first:  as prone to move
Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,
   In our inflamed breasts:
But this doth from the cloud of error grow,
   Which thus we over-blow.
The thing they here call love is blind desire,
   Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;
Inconstant, like the sea, of whence `tis born,
   Rough, swelling, like a storm;
With whom who sails, rides on the surge of fear,
   And boils as if he were
In a continual tempest.  Now, true love
   No such effects doth prove;
That is an essence far more gentle, fine,
   Pure, perfect, nay, divine;
It is a golden chain let down from heaven,
   Whose links are bright and even;
That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines
   The soft and sweetest minds
In equal knots:  this bears no brands, nor darts,
   To murder different hearts,
But, in a calm and god-like unity,
   Preserves community.
O, who is he that, in this peace, enjoys
   Th` elixir of all joys?
A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,
   And lasting as her flowers;
Richer than Time and, as Times`s virtue, rare;
   Sober as saddest care;
A fixed thought, an eye untaught to glance;
   Who, blest with such high chance,
Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,
   Cast himself from the spire
Of all his happiness?  But soft:  I hear
   Some vicious fool draw near,
That cries, we dream, and swears there`s no such thing,
   As this chaste love we sing.
Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those
   Who, being at sea, suppose,
Because they move, the continent doth so:
   No, Vice, we let thee know
Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows` wings do fly,
   Turtles can chastely die;
And yet (in this t` express ourselves more clear)
   We do not number here
Such spirits as are only continent,
   Because lust`s means are spent;
Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,
   And for their place and name,
Cannot so safely sin:  their chastity
   Is mere necessity;
Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience
   Have filled with abstinence:
Though we acknowledge who can so abstain,
   Makes a most blessed gain;
He that for love of goodness hateth ill,
   Is more crown-worthy still
Than he, which for sin`s penalty forbears:
   His heart sins, though he fears.
But we propose a person like our Dove,
   Graced with a Phoenix` love;
A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,
   Would make a day of night,
And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys:
   Whose odorous breath destroys
All taste of bitterness, and makes the air
   As sweet as she is fair.
A body so harmoniously composed,
   As if nature disclosed
All her best symmetry in that one feature!
   O, so divine a creature
Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows
   How only she bestows
The wealthy treasure of her love on him;
   Making his fortunes swim
In the full flood of her admired perfection?
   What savage, brute affection,
Would not be fearful to offend a dame
   Of this excelling frame?
Much more a noble, and right generous mind,
   To virtuous moods inclined,
That knows the weight of guilt:  he will refrain
   From thoughts of such a strain,
And to his sense object this sentence ever,
   "Man may securely sin, but safely never."
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