At court I met it, in clothes brave enough <br />To be a courtier, and looks grave enough <br />To seem a statesman: as I near it came, <br />It made me a great face. I asked the name. <br />'A lord,' it cried, 'buried in flesh and blood, <br />And such from whom let no man hope least good, <br />For I will do none; and as little ill, <br />For I will dare none.' Good lord, walk dead still.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-something-that-walks-somewhere/
