Ben Jonson

“ Chloe. My name is Chloe, sir; I am a gentlewoman. Tuc. Thou art in merit to be an empress, Chloe, for an eye and a lip; thou hast an emperor's nose: kiss me again: 'tis a virtuous punk; so! Before Jove, the gods were a sort of goslings, when they suffered so sweet a breath to perfume the bed of a stinkard: thou hadst ill fortune, Thisbe; the Fates were infatuate, they were, punk, they were. Chloe. That's sure, sir: let me crave your name, I pray you, sir. Tuc. I am known by the name of Captain Tucca, punk; the noble Roman, punk: a gentleman, and a commander, punk. ”

“ Sir, to a wise man, all the world's his soil: It is not Italy, nor France, nor Europe, That must bound me, if my fates call me forth. Yet, I protest, it is no salt desire Of seeing countries, shifting a religion, Nor any disaffection to the state Where I was bred, and unto which I owe My dearest plots, hath brought me out; much less, That idle, antique, stale, gray-headed project Of knowing men's minds, and manners, with Ulysses! But a peculiar humour of my wife's Laid for this height of Venice, to observe, To quote, to learn the language, and so forth— I hope you travel, sir, with license? ”

“ DAW: Ay, sir. TRUE: That may give you some light to conceive of him: but 'tis nothing to the principal. Some false brother in the house has furnish'd him strangely; or, if it were out of the house, it was Tom Otter. DAW: Indeed he's a captain, and his wife is his kinswoman. TRUE: He has got some body's old two-hand sword, to mow you off at the knees; and that sword hath spawn'd such a dagger!—But then he is so hung with pikes, halberds, petronels, calivers and muskets, that he looks like a justice of peace's hall: a man of two thousand a-year, is not cess'd at so many weapons as he has on. ”

“ Nay, not so neither, you shall pardon me: but I speak to serve my turn. E. Know. Your turn, coz! do you know what you say? A gentleman of your sorts, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk of your turn in this company, and to me alone, like a tankard-bearer at a conduit! fie! A wight that, hitherto, his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, as every word the savour of a strong spirit, and he! this man! so graced, gilded, or, to use a more fit metaphor, so tenfold by nature, as not ten housewives' pewter, again a good time, shews more bright to the world than he! ”

“ The sons of prince Germanicus: it shews
A gallant clearness in him, a straight mind,
That envies not, in them, their father’s name.
ARRUNTIUS.
His name was, while he lived, above all envy;
And, being dead, without it. O, that man!
If there were seeds of the old virtue left,
They lived in him.
SILIUS.
He had the fruits, Arruntius,
More than the seeds: Sabinus, and myself
Had means to know him within; and can report him.
We were his followers, he would call us friends;
He was a man most like to virtue; in all,
And every action, nearer to the gods,
Than men, in nature ”

“ MER. Nay, then, Cupid, I think we must have you hood-wink'd again; for you are grown too provident since your eyes were at liberty. CUP. Not so, Mercury, I am still blind Cupid to thee. MER. And what to the lady nymph you serve? CUP. Troth, page, boy, and sirrah: these are all my titles. MER. Then thou hast not altered thy name with thy disguise? CUP. O, no, that had been supererogation; you shall never hear your courtier call but by one of these three. MER. Faith, then both our fortunes are the same. CUP. Why, what parcel of man hast thou lighted on for a master? ”

“ PIS. Oh, you'll slip your head out of the collar: why, Cob, you mistake me. COB. Nay, I have my rheum, and I be angry as well as another, sir. PIE. Thy rheum? thy humour, man, thou mistakest. COB. Humour? mack, I think it be so indeed: what is this humour? it's some rare thing, I warrant. PIS. Marry, I'll tell thee what it is (as 'tis generally received in these days) : it is a monster bred in a man by self-love and affectation, and fed by folly. COB. How? must it be fed? PIS. Oh ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed, why, didst thou never hear of that? it's a common phrase, "Feed my humour." ”

“ Opinio.—Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing; settled in the imagination, but never arriving at the understanding, there to obtain the tincture of reason. We labour with it more than truth. There is much more holds us than presseth us. An ill fact is one thing, an ill fortune is another; yet both oftentimes sway us alike, by the error of our thinking.
Impostura.—Many men believe not themselves what they would persuade others; and less do the things which they would impose on others; but least of all know what they themselves most confidently boast. ”

“ A noble count, a don of Spain, my dear Delicious compeer, and my party-bawd, Who is come hither private for his conscience, And brought munition with him, six great slops, Bigger than three Dutch hoys, beside round trunks, Furnished with pistolets, and pieces of eight, Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath, (That is the colour,) and to make his battery Upon our Dol, our castle, our cinque-port, Our Dover pier, our what thou wilt. Where is she? She must prepare perfumes, delicate linen, The bath in chief, a banquet, and her wit, For she must milk his epididimis. ”

“ That's true, I had almost forgot this
rug, this hedgehog's nest, this hay-mow,
this bear's-skin, this heath, this furze-bush.
Junip. O let me go, you tear my hair,
you revolve my brains and understanding.
Jaq. Heart, thou art somewhat eas'd; half of my fear
Hath ta'en his leave of me, the other half
Still keeps possession in despight of hope,
Until these amorous eyes court my fair gold.
Dear, I come to thee; fiend, why art not gone?
Avoid, my soul's vexation; Satan, hence;
Why do'st thou stare on me? why do'st thou stay! ”

“ Gallus here, Apollo; you, Cytheris, Pallas; I will be Bacchus; and my love Plautia, Ceres: and to install you and your husband, fair Chloe, in honours equal with ours, you shall be a goddess, and your husband a god. Chloe. A god!—O my gods! Tib. A god, but a lame god, lady; for he shall be Vulcan, and you Venus: and this will make our banquet no less than heavenly. Chloe. In sincerity, it will be sugared. Good Jove, what a pretty foolish thing it is to be a poet! but, hark you, sweet Cytheris, could they not possibly leave out my husband? methinks a body's husband does not so well at court ”

“ FACE. Purposing then, sir, To have burnt rose-vinegar, treacle, and tar, And have made it sweet, that you shou'd ne'er have known it; Because I knew the news would but afflict you, sir.
LOVE. Breathe less, and farther off! Why this is stranger: The neighbours tell me all here that the doors Have still been open --
FACE. How, sir!
LOVE. Gallants, men and women, And of all sorts, tag-rag, been seen to flock here In threaves, these ten weeks, as to a second Hogsden, In days of Pimlico and Eye-bright.
FACE. Sir, Their wisdoms will not say so.
LOVE. To-day they speak Of coaches and gallants ”

“ DRUG. Thirty shillings, sir; And for six syringes.
SUR. Hydra of villainy!
FACE. Nay, sir, you must quarrel him out o' the house.
KAS. I will: - Sir, if you get not out of doors, you lie; And you are a pimp.
SUR. Why, this is madness, sir, Not valour in you; I must laugh at this.
KAS. It is my humour: you are a pimp and a trig, And an Amadis de Gaul, or a Don Quixote.
DRUG. Or a knight o' the curious coxcomb, do you see?
[ENTER ANANIAS.]
ANA. Peace to the household!
KAS. I'll keep peace for no man. ”

“ MAM. But when you see th' effects of the Great Medicine, Of which one part projected on a hundred Of Mercury, or Venus, or the moon, Shall turn it to as many of the sun; Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum: You will believe me.
SUR. Yes, when I see't, I will. But if my eyes do cozen me so, and I Giving them no occasion, sure I'll have A whore, shall piss them out next day.
MAM. Ha! why? Do you think I fable with you? I assure you, He that has once the flower of the sun, The perfect ruby, which we call elixir, Not only can do that, but, by its virtue, Can confer honour, love, respect, long life ”

“ PUNT. Sir, for signior Sogliardo's sake, let it suffice, I know you. SOG. Why, as I am a gentleman, I thank you, knight, and it shall suffice. Hark you, sir Puntarvolo, you'd little think it; he's as resolute a piece of flesh as any in the world. PUNT. Indeed, sir! SOG. Upon my gentility, sir: Carlo, a word with you; do you see that same fellow, there? CAR. What, cavalier Shirt? SOG. O, you know him; cry you mercy: before me, I think him the tallest man living within the walls of Europe. CAR. The walls of Europe! take heed what you say, signior, Europe's a huge thing within the walls. ”