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 JONSONGreatness of name, in the father, ofttimes helps not forth, but overwhelms the son: They stand too near one another. The shadow kills the growth.
More Ben Jonson Quotes
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A good man should and must Sit rather down with loss than rise unjust.
BEN JONSON -
You are not now to think what’s best to do, As in beginnings, but what must be done, Being thus enter’d; and slip no advantage That may secure you. Let them call it mischief; When it is past, and prosper’d , ’twill be virtue.
BEN JONSON -
I’ll give anything for a good copy now, be it true or false, so it be news.
BEN JONSON -
Weigh the meaning and look not at the words.
BEN JONSON -
Ambition, like a torrent, ne’er looks back; And is a swelling, and the last affection A high mind can put off; being both a rebel Unto the soul and reason, and enforceth All laws, all conscience, treads upon religion, and offereth violence to nature’s self.
BEN JONSON -
Blueness doth express trueness.
BEN JONSON -
Folly often goes beyond her bounds, but impudence knows none.
BEN JONSON -
Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need
BEN JONSON -
There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.
BEN JONSON -
It is the highest of earthly honors to be descended from the great and good. They alone cry out against a noble ancestry who have none of their own.
BEN JONSON -
Passions are spiritual rebels and raise sedition against the understanding.
BEN JONSON -
If men will impartially, and not asquint, look toward the offices and function of a poet, they will easily conclude to themselves the impossibility of any man’s being a good poet without first being a good man.
BEN JONSON -
Truth is man’s proper good, and the only immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.
BEN JONSON -
Vice Is like a fury to the vicious mind, And turns delight itself to punishment.
BEN JONSON -
Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet’s horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.
BEN JONSON