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;… — 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
