A Farewell To The World
By Ben Jonson
False world, good night! since thou hast brought
That hour upon my morn of age;
Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,
My part is ended on thy stage.
Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear
As little as I hope from thee:
I know thou canst not show nor bear
More hatred than thou hast to me.
My tender, first, and simple years
Thou didst abuse and then betray;
Since stirdst up jealousies and fears,
When all the causes were away.
Then in a soil hast planted me
Where breathe the basest of thy fools;
Where envious arts professd be,
And pride and ignorance the schools;
Where nothing is examined, weighd,
But as tis rumourd, so believed;
Where every freedom is betrayd,
And every goodness taxd or grieved.
But what were born for, we must bear:
Our frail condition it is such
That what to all may happen here,
If t chance to me, I must not grutch.
Else I my state should much mistake
To harbour a divided thought
From all my kindthat, for my sake,
There should a miracle be wrought.
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,
As wanderers do, that still do roam;
But make my strengths, such as they are,
Here in my bosom, and at home.