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The day For whose returns, and many, all these pray And so do I.

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
Whose
Return
Many
Returns
Birthday
Pray
Praying

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The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.
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To the old, long life and treasure To the young, all health and pleasure.
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Books are faithful repositories, which may be awhile neglected or forgotten, but when they are opened again, will again impart their instruction.
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Prevent your day at morning.
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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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Sweet Swan of Avon! What a sight it were To see thee in our water yet appear.
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Great honours are great burdens, but on whom They are cast with envy, he doth bear two loads.
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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.
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Ready writing makes not good writing, but good writing brings on ready writing.
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Calumnies are answered best with silence.
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I would rather have a plain down-right wisdom than a foolish and affected eloquence.
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To speak and to speak well are two things. A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.
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Freedom doth with degree dispense.
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A good man will avoid the spot of any sin. The very aspersion is grievous, which makes him choose his way in his life, as he would in his journey.
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Well, as he brews, so shall he drink.
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Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys.
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Tis not the wholesome sharp mortality, Or modest anger of a satiric spirit, That hurts or wounds the body of a state, But the sinister application Of the malicious, ignorant, and base Interpreter who will distort and strain The general scope and purpose of an author To his particular and private spleen.
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Custom is the most certain mistress of language, as the public stamp makes the current money.
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I glory, more in the cunning purchase of my wealth than in the glad possession.
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The pipe marks the point at which the orangutan ends and man begins.
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