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Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze; But if the pilot slumber at the helm, The very wind that wafts us tow’rds the port May dash us on the shoals. The steersman’s part Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.

Ben Jonson

I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.
BEN JONSON

Father Men Parent
Many punishments sometimes, and in some cases, as much discredit a prince as many funerals a physician.
BEN JONSON

Funeral Physicians Punishment
Drink today, and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow; Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.
BEN JONSON

Drinking Sorrow Use
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
Spread yourself upon his bosom publicly, whose heart you would eat in private.
BEN JONSON

Heart Hypocrisy Spread
Soul of the age! The applause! delight! The wonder of our stage!
BEN JONSON

Age Delight Soul Wonder
If all you boast of your great art be true; Sure, willing poverty lives most in you.
BEN JONSON

Art Being Poverty True
Where it concerns himself, Who’s angry at a slander, makes it true.
BEN JONSON

Angry Concern Slander
The dignity of truth is lost with much protesting.
BEN JONSON

Dignity Life Losing
Your highest female grace is silence.
BEN JONSON

Female Grace Silence
The world knows only two, that’s Rome and I.
BEN JONSON

Conceited Fools Rome Two
True gladness doth not always speak; joy, bred and born but in the tongue, is weak.
BEN JONSON

Joy Speak Tongue
As it is a great point of art, when our matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out all sail, so to take it in and contract it is of no less praise when the argument doth ask it.
BEN JONSON

Art Ask Matter Praise Style
Words borrowed of Antiquity do lend a kind of Majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes.
BEN JONSON

Past Winning Years
That I might live alone once with my gold! O, ’tis a sweet companion! kind and true: A man may trust it when his father cheats him, Brother, or friend, or wife. O wondrous pelf! That which makes all men false, is true itself.
BEN JONSON

Alone Brother Companions Money Sweet
There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear.
BEN JONSON

Fear Hell No Prisoner
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.
BEN JONSON

Die Fall Flower Night Proportion
No glass renders a man’s form or likeness so true as his speech.
BEN JONSON

Glasses Men Speech
Who casts to write a living line, must sweat.
BEN JONSON

Lines Sweat Writing
Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home Can be contented to applaud myself, . . . with joy To see how plump my bags are and my barns.
BEN JONSON

Home Joy
Indeed there’s a woundy luck in names.
BEN JONSON

Indeed Luck Names Woundy
O! How vain and vile a passion is this fear! What base uncomely things it makes men do.
BEN JONSON

Fear Men Passion
My thoughts and I were of another world.
BEN JONSON

Another World Thoughts
Rich apparel has strange virtues; it makes him that hath it without means esteemed for an excellent wit; he that enjoys it with means puts the world in remembrance of his means.
BEN JONSON

Mean Remembrance Rich World
The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator.
BEN JONSON

Orators Oratory Poet
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
Freedom doth with degree dispense.
BEN JONSON

Degree Dispense Freedom

Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze; But if the pilot slumber at the helm, The very wind that wafts us tow’rds the port May dash us on the shoals. The steersman’s part Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.

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Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze; But if the pilot slumber at the helm, The very wind that wafts us tow’rds the port May dash us on the shoals. The steersman’s part Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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