Ben Jonson: l'homme et l'oeuvre (1572-1637).

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Librairie Hachette, 1907 - 953 pages
 

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Page 494 - As for Jonson, to whose character I am now arrived, if we look upon him while he was himself (for his last plays were but his dotages), I think him the most learned and judicious writer which any theatre ever had. He was a most severe judge of himself, as well as others. One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.
Page 42 - Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances.
Page 875 - And then at last, sir, starting, behold a man hanging, and tottering, and tottering, as you know the wind will wave a man, and I with a trice to cut him down. And looking upon him by the advantage of my torch, find it to be my son Horatio. There you may show a passion, there you may show a passion. Draw me like old Priam of Troy, crying, The house is a-fire, the house is a-fire; and the torch over my head...
Page 120 - scaped world's and flesh's rage, And if no other misery, yet age! Rest in soft peace, and asked, say, Here doth lie Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.
Page 875 - Well, sir ; then bring me forth, bring me through alley and alley, still with a distracted countenance going along, and let my hair heave up my night-cap. Let the clouds scowl, make the moon dark, the stars extinct, the winds blowing, the bells tolling, the owls shrieking, the toads croaking, the minutes jarring, and the clock striking twelve. And then at last, sir, starting, behold a man hanging, and tottering and tottering, as you know the wind will wave a man, and I with a trice to cut him down.
Page 495 - But he has done his robberies so openly, that one may see he fears not to be taxed by any law. He invades authors like a monarch ; and what would be theft in other poets, is only victory in him.
Page 120 - On My First Son'. Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy: Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
Page 874 - O ambitious beggar, wouldst thou have that That lives not in the world ? ! Why, all the undelved mines cannot buy An ounce of Justice, 'tis a jewel so inestimable. I tell thee, God hath engross'd all justice in his hands, And there is none but what comes from him.
Page 640 - Hymeiuei, or the Solemnities of Masque and Barriers, magnificently performed on the eleventh and twelfth nights, from Christmas, at court : to the auspicious celebrating of the Marriage-union betweene Robert, Earle of Essex, and the lady Frances, second daughter of the most noble Earle of Suff olke, 1606. Jam veniet virgo, jam dicetur Hymenaus" The author's reason for "not being more particular" is now sufficiently apparent.
Page 476 - You say well, but I would fain hear one of these autumnjudgments define once, Quid sit comcedia ? if he cannot, let him content himself with Cicero's definition, till he have strength to propose to himself a better, who would have a comedy to be imitatio vitae, speculum consuetudinis, imago veritatis; a thing throughout pleasant and ridiculous, and accommodated to the correction of manners...

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