The Works of Ben Jonson...: With Notes Critical and Explanatory, and a Biographical Memoir, Volume 8G. and W. Nicol, 1816 |
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Acci appears beauty Ben Jonson better brave call'd called captain Chloridia Cook COUNTESS OF BEDFORD court Cupid dance dare dost doth earl earl of Newcastle Ears envy epigram EPISTLE EPITAPH eyes fair Fame fate father favour fear feast Fitz folio fool fortune give glory grace Gundomar hath heart heaven honour Inigo Inigo Jones Johp Jonson king lady learned light live look lord lord chamberlain Love's lover Masque MASQUERS master mistress muse never noble Nose PAN'S ANNIVERSARY Penshurst person piece play poem poet poet's poetry praise prince queen rhyme Richard Brome Robert Wroth says scarce Shakspeare shew sing sir Henry sir Henry Carey SONG soul spirit sport sweet tell thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought triumph true truth unto verse VIII virtue Vitruvius WHAL Whalley Whilst word worth write
Popular passages
Page 332 - Triumph, my Britain! Thou hast one to show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears, or, like a Mercury, to charm. Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines, Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
Page 333 - Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James!
Page 30 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known; In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Page 330 - The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
Page 268 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 332 - Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all; thy Art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
Page 441 - My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place or honours ; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only proper to himself; in that he seemed to me ever by his work one of the greatest men and most worthy of admiration that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength, for greatness he could not want...
Page 230 - Weep with me, all you that read This little story : And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature.
Page 269 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Page 159 - Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe All that I am in arts, all that I know, (How nothing's that?) to whom my country owes The great renown, and name wherewith she goes.