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Neither do thou lust after that tawny weed tobacco.
Ben Jonson
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Ben Jonson
Age: 65 †
Born: 1572
Born: June 21
Died: 1637
Died: August 6
Actor
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Benjamin Jonson
Marijuana
Weed
Lust
Thou
Neither
Tawny
Tobacco
More quotes by Ben Jonson
The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator.
Ben Jonson
Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men?
Ben Jonson
Truth is man's proper good, and the only immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.
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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.
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If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick
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Heaven prepares good men with crosses but no ill can happen to a good man.
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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.
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Success hath made me wanton.
Ben Jonson
Court a mistress, she denies you let her alone, she will court you.
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Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed That sets his doors wide open to a thief, And shows the felon where his treasure lies?
Ben Jonson
Tell troth and shame the devil.
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Fortune, thou hadst no deity, if men Had wisdom.
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Affliction teacheth a wicked person sometime to pray prosperity never.
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Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us, and that friendly and lovingly. We owe no thanks to rivers that they carry our boats, or winds that they be favoring and fill our sails, or meats that they be nourishing for these are what they are necessarily. Horses carry us, trees shade us but they know it not.
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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.
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Tis the common disease of all your musicians that they know no mean, to be entreated, either to begin or end.
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It is an art to have so much judgment as to apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing.
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The day For whose returns, and many, all these pray And so do I.
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I'll give anything for a good copy now, be it true or false, so it be news.
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How near to good is what is fair!
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