An Ode for Him (Ben Jonson)

               Ah Ben!
           Say how, or when
           Shall we thy guests,
       Meet at those lyric feasts
           Made at the Sun,
       The Dog, the Triple Tun?
           Where we such clusters had,
       As made us nobly wild, not mad;
           And yet each verse of thine
Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.

                          My Ben!
                      Or come again,
                      Or send to us
               Thy wit's great overplus;
                      But teach us yet
               Wisely to husband it,
           Lest we that talent spend:
       And having once brought to an end
           That precious stock; the store
Of such a wit the world should have no more.