U  N  D  E  R  W  O  O  D  S . MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. III. — IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND. — A SONG APOLOGETIC.    Men, if you love us, play no more The fools or tyrants with your friends, To make us still sing o'er and o'er Our own false praises, for your ends : We have both wits and fancies too, And if we must, let's sing of you. Nor do we doubt, but that we can, If we would search with care and pain, Find some one good, in some one man ; So going thorough all your strain, We shall at last, of parcels make One good enough for a song's sake. And as a cunning painter takes, In any curious piece you see, More pleasure while the thing he makes, Than when 'tis made ; why, so will we. And having pleas'd our art, we'll try To make a new, and hang that by.
Source: Jonson, Ben.  The Works of Ben Jonson. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Co., 1853. 813.

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