Ben Jonson Quotes

That old bald cheater, Time.

Thy worst. I fart at thee.

It is an art to have so much judgment as to apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing.

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".

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

He wil sooner lose his best friend, then his least jest.

Language most shews a man: Speak, that I may see thee.

For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such, as what he loves may never like too much.

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.

Soul of the age! The applause! delight! The wonder of our stage!

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

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.

It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, dry, bald and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.

I will eat exceedingly, and prophesy.

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.