How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse, <br />That unto me dost such religion use! <br />How I do fear myself, that am not worth <br />The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth! <br />At once thou mak'st me happy, and unmak'st; <br />And giving largely to me, more thou takest! <br />What fate is mine, that so itself bereaves? <br />What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives? <br />When even there, where most thou praisest me, <br />For writing better, I must envy thee.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-francis-beaumont/
