126 quotes
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.
He hath consumed a whole night in lying looking to his great toe, about which he hath seen Tartars and Turks, Romans and Carthaginians, fight in his imagination.
Conversations with William Drummond of Hawthornden (1711)
Cut
Men's throats with whisperings.
A good life is a main argument.
The Works of Ben Jonson, Second Folio (1640)
There shall be no love lost.
Every Man out of His Humour (1598)
That old bald cheater, Time.
The Poetaster (1601)
Where dost thou careless lie,
Buried in ease and sloth?
Knowledge that sleeps, doth die;
And this security,
It is the common moth,
That eats on wits and arts, and oft destroys them both.
The Works of Ben Jonson, Second Folio (1640)
No simple word
That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,
Shall make us sad next morning; or affright
The liberty that we'll enjoy to-night.
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.
The Works of Ben Jonson, Second Folio (1640)
They say that princes learn no art truly, but the art of horsemanship. The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer. He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.
A crafty knave needs no broker.
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.
Eastward Hoe (1605)
A valiant man
Ought not to undergo, or tempt a danger,
But worthily, and by selected ways,
He undertakes with reason, not by chance.
His valor is the salt t' his other virtues,
They're all unseason'd without it.
Upon her head she weares a crowne of starres,
Through which her orient hayre waves to her waist,
By which beleeving mortalls hold her fast,
And in those golden chordes are carried even,
Till with her breath she blowes them up to heaven.
He cursed Petrarch for redacting verses to sonnets, which he said were like that tyrant's bed, where some who were too short were racked, others too long cut short.
Conversations with William Drummond of Hawthornden (1711)
When I would know thee * * * my thought looks
Upon thy well-made choice of friends and books;
Then do I love thee, and behold thy ends
In making thy friends books, and thy books friends.
Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night,
And despairs day, but for thy volumes light.
To the Memory of My Beloved, the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare (1618)
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.
The Silent Woman (1609)
It was a mighty while ago.
Every Man in His Humour (1598)
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".
The Works of Ben Jonson, Second Folio (1640)