Ben Jonson

"To make a proper estimation of his merits as a dramatic writer, we are to consider what was the state of the drama and the usual practice of the stage-writers in those early times; and what alterations and improvements it received from the plays of Jonson. Shakespear, and Beaumont and Fletcher, are the only contemporary writers that can be put in competition with him; and as they have excellencies of genius superior to those of Jonson, they have weaknesses and defects which are proportionably greater. If they transcend him in the creative powers, and the astonishing flights of imagination, their judgment is much inferior to his; and if he doth not at any time rise so high, neither perhaps doth he sink so low as they have done."

"Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance."

"There shall be no love lost."

"Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears: Yet, slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs: List to the heavy part the music bears, Woe weeps out her division, when she sings. Droop herbs, and flowers, Fall grief in showers, Our beauties are not ours; O, I could still, Like melting snow upon some craggy hill, Drop, drop, drop, drop, Since nature's pride is now, a withered daffodil."

"True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice."

"Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright."

"That old bald cheater, Time."

"Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant; and of all tame, a flatterer."

"The world knows only two, — that's Rome and I."

"Calumnies are answered best with silence."

"You that would last long, list to my song, Make no more coil, but buy of this oil. Would you be ever fair and young? Stout of teeth and strong of tongue? Tart of palate, quick of ear? Sharp of sight, of nostril clear? Moist of hand and light of foot? (Or, I will come nearer to it) Would you live free from all diseases, Do the act your mistress pleases; Yet fright all aches from your bones? Here's a medicine for the nones."

"Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression."

"Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast."

"Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd, Lady, it is to be presum'd, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart."

"Subtle. No egg but differs from a chicken more Than metals in themselves. Surly. That cannot be. The egg's ordained by nature to that end And is a chicken in potentia. Subtle. The same we say of lead and other metals, Which would be gold if they had time. ...for 'twere absurd To think that nature in the earth bred gold Perfect in the instant; something went before. There must be remote matter."

"Thou look'st like Antichrist in that lewd hat."

"Where it concerns himself, Who's angry at a slander makes it true."

"The dignity of truth is lost With much protesting."

"Ambition, like a torrent, ne'er looks back; And is a swelling, and the last affection A high mind can put off; being both a rebel Unto the soul and reason, and enforceth All laws, all conscience, treads upon religion, and offereth violence to nature's self."

"So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains, Wherein rude winter bound her veins; So grows both stream and source of price, That lately fettered were with ice. So naked trees get crispèd heads, And coloured coats the roughest meads, And all get vigour, youth and spright, That are but looked on by his light."

"I will eat exceedingly, and prophesy."

"Reader, look, Not at his picture, but his book."

"Truth is the trial of itself And needs no other touch, And purer than the purest gold, Refine it ne'er so much."

"Courses even with the sun Doth her mighty brother run."

"Underneath this sable hearse Lies the subject of all verse,— Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother. Death, ere thou hast slain another, Learn'd and fair and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee."

"What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew, Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew?"

"It was a mighty while ago."

"Hang sorrow! care'll kill a cat."

"As he brews, so shall he drink."

"Get money; still get money, boy, No matter by what means."

"Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years."

"It must be done like lightning."

"In the meantime, to all suits, to all entreaties, to all letters, to all tricks, I will be deaf as an adder, blind as a beetle, lay mine ear to the ground, and lock mine eyes i' my hand against all temptations."

"The burnt child dreads the fire."

"The Devil is an Ass! fool'd off! and beaten!"

"If he were To be made honest by an act of parliament I should not alter in my faith of him."

"The Devil is an Ass, I do acknowledge it."

"Pray thee, take care, that tak'st my book in hand, To read it well: that is, to understand."

"If all you boast of your great art be true; Sure, willing poverty lives most in you."

"There's reason good, that you good laws should make: Men's manners ne'er were viler, for your sake."

"He that fears death, or mourns it, in the just, Shows of the resurrection little trust."

"Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy! My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. O, could I lose all father now. For why Will man lament the state he should envy? To have soon 'scaped world's and flesh's rage, And, if no other misery, yet age! Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry: For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much."

"Thy praise or dispraise is to me alike; One doth not stroke me, nor the other strike."

"The ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds: Through which our merit leads us to our meeds. How willful blind is he then, that would stray, And hath it in his powers, to make his way! This world death's region is, the other life's: And here, it should be one of our first strifes, So to front death, as men might judge us past it. For good men but see death, the wicked taste it."

"Thus, in his belly, can he change a sin, Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in."

"Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than doth live."

"Come my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain; Suns that set may rise again, But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys."

"Follow a shadow, it still flies you; Seem to fly it, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you."

"Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows and smells, I swear, Not of itself, but thee."

"Not to know vice at all, and keep true state, Is virtue, and not fate: Next to that virtue is to know vice well, And her black spite expel."