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Freedom doth with degree dispense.

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
Dispense
Doth
Degree
Degrees
Freedom

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A prince without letters is a Pilot without eyes. All his government is groping.
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Fortune, thou hadst no deity, if men Had wisdom.
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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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He was not of an age, but for all time!
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It is the highest of earthly honors to be descended from the great and good. They alone cry out against a noble ancestry who have none of their own.
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The dignity of truth is lost with much protesting.
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There is no bounty to be showed to such As have real goodness: Bounty is A spice of virtue and what virtuous act Can take effect on them that have no power Of equal habitude to apprehend it?
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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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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.
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He threatens many that hath injured one.
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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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How near to good is what is fair!
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The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.
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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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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 feel my griefs too, and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t'inflict another wound. Yet dare I not complain, or wish for death With holy Paul lest it be thought the breath Of discontent or that these prayers be For weariness of life, not love of thee.
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Cares that have entered once in the breast, will have whole possession of the rest.
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Ready writing makes not good writing, but good writing brings on ready writing.
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To the old, long life and treasure To the young, all health and pleasure.
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All discourses but my own afflict me they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome
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