Quote

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.

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
Sound
Echo
Voice
Echoes
Words
Soft
Sense
Fairs
Chime
Left
Fair
Stroked
Stills
Air
Thence
Still
Sweet
Chimes
Though
Parted

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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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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?
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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.
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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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Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine.
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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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O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion!
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Tell troth and shame the devil.
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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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Ambition, like a torrent, ne'er looks back And is a swelling, and the last affection A high mind can put off being both a rebel Unto the soul and reason, and enforceth All laws, all conscience, treads upon religion, and offereth violence to nature's self.
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Words borrowed of Antiquity do lend a kind of Majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes. 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.
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Cares that have entered once in the breast, will have whole possession of the rest.
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The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.
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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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Hell itself must yield to industry.
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Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate and frail.
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