From the words of my master

Aye, and for this neglect, the coarser sort

Of earthen jars there may molest me too.

Well, with mine own frail pitcher, what to do

I have decreed:  keep it from waves, and press,

Lest it be jostled, cracked, made nought or less;

Live to that point I will for which I am man,

And dwell as in my center as I can,

Still looking to and ever loving heaven,

With reverence using all the gifts thence given;

'Mongst which, if I have any friendships sent,

Such as are square, well-tagged, and permanent,

Not built with canvas, paper, and false lights

As are the glorious scenes at the great sights,

And that there be no fev'ry heats nor colds,

Oily expansions, or shrunk dirty folds,

But all so clear, and lead by reason's flame,

As but to stumble in her sight were shame;

These I will honor, love, embrace, and serve,

And free it from all question to preserve.

So short you read my character, and theirs

I would call mine, to which not many stairs

Are asked to climb.  First give me faith, who know

Myself a little; I will take you so

As you have writ yourself.

(Ben Jonson, "An Epistle Answering to One that Asked to be Sealed of the Tribe of Ben")

**
I know, I know:  "Sir, I know Teddy Roosevelt.  Teddy Roosevelt is a good friend of mine.  And you, sir, are no Teddy Roosevelt."  fair enough.   Hell, I'm no Ben Jonson either.