Quote

It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest Would thou could'st make the time to do so too I'll wind thee up no more.

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
Watch
Strikes
Enough
Beat
Make
Wind
Six
Would
Rest
Thou
Time
Sleep
Thee
Four
Beats
Five
Dear
Pulse
Three
Watches
Hath
Two

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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.
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I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, a pernicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the disturber of his reason, and common confounder of truth.
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Court a mistress, she denies you let her alone, she will court you.
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It is less dishonor to hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly. The ears are excused the understanding is not.
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Folly often goes beyond her bounds, but impudence knows none.
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Well, as he brews, so shall he drink.
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Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
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Doing, a filthy pleasure is, and short And done, we straight repent us of the sport: Let us not rush blindly on unto it, Like lustful beasts, that only know to do it: For lust will languish, and that heat decay, But thus, thus, keeping endless Holy-.
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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.
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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.
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Out of clothes out of countenance, out of countenance out of wit.
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O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion!
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Nothing is more short-lived than pride.
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Now we are all fallen, youth from their fear, And age from that which bred it, good example.
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I see compassion may become a justice, though it be a weakness, I confess, and nearer a vice than a virtue.
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Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture their industry the right way.
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