Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Benjamin "Ben" Jonsonwas an English playwright, poet, actor and literary critic of the 17th century, whose artistry exerted a lasting impact upon English poetry and stage comedy. He popularised the comedy of humours. He is best known for the satirical plays Every Man in His Humour, Volpone, or The Foxe, The Alchemistand Bartholomew Fayre: A Comedyand for his lyric poetry; he is generally regarded as the second most important English dramatist, after William Shakespeare, during the reign of James I...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth11 June 1572
A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
Who falls for love of God, shall rise a star.
Though I am young, and cannot tell Either what Death or Love is well, Yet I have heard they both bear darts, And both do aim at human hearts. And then again, I have been told Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold; So that I fear they do but bring Extremes to touch, and mean one thing. As in a ruin we it call One thing to be blown up, or fall; Or to our end like way may have By a flash of lightning, or a wave; So Love’s inflamèd shaft or brand May kill as soon as Death’s cold hand; Except Love’s fires the virtue have To fight the frost out of the grave.
Forbear, you things That stand upon the pinnacles of state, To boast your slippery height! when you do fall, You dash yourselves in pieces, ne'er to rise: And he that lends you pity, is not wise.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow, / Before rude hands have touched it? / Have you marked but the fall o' the snow / Before the soil hath smutched it? . . . O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!
In his adversity I ever prayed, that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want.
Still to be neat, still to be drest, / As you were going to a feast.
That for which all virtue now is sold, and almost every vice- almighty gold
The fear of every man that heard him was, lest he should make an end.
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears; / Yet slower yet, O faintly, gentle springs.
Follow a shadow, it still flies you,Seem to fly it, it will pursue.So court a mistress, she denies you;Let her alone, she will court you.Say, are not women truly, thenStyled but the shadows of us men?
Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly it, 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?
Twas only fear first in the world made gods.
This is the danger, when vice becomes a precedent