In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures, life may perfect be.
BEN JONSONCares that have entered once in the breast, will have whole possession of the rest.
More Ben Jonson Quotes
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Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star.
BEN JONSON -
I have discovered that a famed familiarity in great ones is a note of certain usurpation on the less; for great and popular men feign themselves to be servants to others to make those slaves to them.
BEN JONSON -
The two chief things that give a man reputation in counsel, are the opinion of his honesty, and the opinion of his wisdom; the authority of those two will persuade.
BEN JONSON -
Silence in woman is like speech in man.
BEN JONSON -
Woman, the more careful she is about her face, the more careless about her house.
BEN JONSON -
Spread yourself upon his bosom publicly, whose heart you would eat in private.
BEN JONSON -
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 -
For they have the authority of years, and out of their intermission do win to themselves a kind of grace-like newness. But the eldest of the present, and newest of the past Language, is the best.
BEN JONSON -
Sweet meat must have sour sauce.
BEN JONSON -
I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand.
BEN JONSON -
Your highest female grace is silence.
BEN JONSON -
Nothing is more short-lived than pride.
BEN JONSON -
Ambition, like a torrent, never looks back.
BEN JONSON -
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.
BEN JONSON -
Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast, Still to be powder’d, all perfum’d. Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound.
BEN JONSON







