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In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures, life may perfect be.

Ben Jonson

Well, I will scourge those apes, And to these courteous eyes oppose a mirror, As large as is the stage whereon we act; Where they shall see the time’s deformity Anatomised in every nerve, and sinew, With constant courage, and contempt of fear.
BEN JONSON

Act Apes Courage Eye Mirror Time
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.
BEN JONSON

Chair Light Queens Seated Sleep
Love that is ignorant and hatred have almost the same ends.
BEN JONSON

Hate Hatred Ignorant
Court a mistress, she denies you; let her alone, she will court you.
BEN JONSON

Court Deny Mistress
Sweet meat must have sour sauce.
BEN JONSON

Meat Swans Sweet
I have no urns, no dusty monuments; No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose; no forged tales Of long descents, to boast false honors from.
BEN JONSON

Broken Honor Long
A good man should and must Sit rather down with loss than rise unjust.
BEN JONSON

Good Loss Men Rise
The day For whose returns, and many, all these pray; And so do I.
BEN JONSON

Birthday Praying Return
Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: ‘Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.
BEN JONSON

Applause Crowns Mind Virtue
If you succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the forge and file again; turn it new.
BEN JONSON

Crafts Scratches Succeed
Hell itself must yield to industry.
BEN JONSON

Hell Industry Yield
If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick
BEN JONSON

Illness Neurosis Sick
The burnt child dreads the fire.
BEN JONSON

Children Dread Fire
It is less dishonor to hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly. The ears are excused; the understanding is not.
BEN JONSON

Ears Speak Understanding
The world knows only two, that’s Rome and I.
BEN JONSON

Conceited Fools Rome Two
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.
BEN JONSON

Art Common Lying Security Sleep

In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures, life may perfect be.

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In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures, life may perfect be.

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