Tis the common disease of all your musicians that they know no mean, to be entreated, either to begin or end. — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, a pernicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the disturber of his reason,… — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Where dost thou careless lie, Buried in ease and sloth? Knowledge that sleeps, doth die; And this security, It is the common… — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Soul of the Age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser,… — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Heaven prepares good men with crosses; but no ill can happen to a good man. — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
All discourses but my own afflict me; they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Spread yourself upon his bosom publicly, whose heart you would eat in private. — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Rich apparel has strange virtues; it makes him that hath it without means esteemed for an excellent wit; he that enjoys it with means… — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
Each petty hand Can steer a ship becalm'd; but he that will Govern and carry her to her ends, must know His tides, his… — Ben Jonson Copy Share Image
