Ben Jonson Quotes
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Those that merely talk and never think, That live in the wild anarchy of drink.
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Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression.
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True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice.
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Thou look'st like Antichrist in that lewd hat.
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It is an art to have so much judgment as to apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing.
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Art hath an enemy call'd ignorance.
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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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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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Courses even with the sun Doth her mighty brother run.
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As he brews, so shall he drink.
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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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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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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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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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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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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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Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing.
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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.