Ben Jonson Quotes
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Folly often goes beyond her bounds; but Impudence knows none.
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That Donne himself, for not being understood, would perish.
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Thou look'st like Antichrist in that lewd hat.
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Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression.
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It must be done like lightning.
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As he brews, so shall he drink.
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I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare, that in his writing, whatsoever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, 'Would he had blotted a thousand'.
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For if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee surely with thy peers, And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line. And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek, From thence to honour thee, I will not seek For names…
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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.
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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.
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Have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years.
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Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance.
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I now think, Love is rather deaf, than blind, For else it could not be, That she, Whom I adore so much, should so slight me, And cast my love behind.
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I loved the man and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any.
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Courses even with the sun Doth her mighty brother run.
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If he were To be made honest by an act of parliament I should not alter in my faith of him.
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The Devil is an Ass, I do acknowledge it.
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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.
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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.
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Lady: How do's it fit? wilt come together? Prudence: Hardly. Lad: Thou must make shift with it. Pride feels no Pain.
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Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing.
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Greatness of name in the father oft-times overwhelms the son; they stand too near one another. The shadow kills the growth: so much, that we see the grandchild come more and oftener to be heir of the first.
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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.
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There's reason good, that you good laws should make: Men's manners ne'er were viler, for your sake.