2.19

ben jonson was a brick-layer, a soldier and a writer in england [1572-1637]. he was an extremely talented writer who faced charges of sedition and treason because of a play he wrote. he actually went to prison for that! jonson also got into a duel with an actor and killed the other guy. he got out of that one by pleading 'benefit of clergy' which is the olde worlde equivalent of 'diplomatic immunity' that diplomats today have.
the poem i've picked here is gentle and almost delicate in its romantic requests. can't imagine how the 'bricklayer, soldier, actor, writer, duellist, prisoner' came up with such sublime sweetness.

by Ben Jonson
Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kisse but in the cup,
And Ile not looke for wine.
The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,
Doth aske a drinke divine:
But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath,
Not so much honoring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered bee.
But thou thereon did'st onely breath,
And sent'st it back to mee:
Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare,
Not of it selfe, but thee.

-Ben Jonson