Ben Jonson

Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd, Lady, it is to be presum'd, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace;

Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast.

Preserving the sweetness of proportion and expressing itself beyond expression.

Calumnies are answered best with silence.

The world knows only two, — that's Rome and I.

Of all wild beasts preserve me from a tyrant; and of all tame, a flatterer.

That old bald cheater, Time.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright.

True happiness Consists not in the multitude of friends, But in the worth and choice.

Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears: Yet, slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs: List to the heavy part the music bears, Woe weeps out her division, when she sings. Droop herbs, and flowers, Fall grief in showers,

There shall be no love lost.