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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Page 180

Ben Jonson. (1572–1637) (continued)
    Let those that merely talk and never think,
That live in the wild anarchy of drink. 1
          Underwoods. An Epistle, answering to One that asked to be sealed of the Tribe of Ben.
    Still may syllabes jar with time,
Still may reason war with rhyme,
Resting never!
          Underwoods. Fit of Rhyme against Rhyme.
    In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.
          Underwoods. To the immortal Memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison. III.
    What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew,
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew? 2
          Elegy on the Lady Jane Pawlet.
John Webster. (1580?–1634)
    I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exit. 3
          Duchess of Malfi. Act iv. Sc. 2.
    ’T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,—the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out. 4
          The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2.
    Condemn you me for that the duke did love me?
So may you blame some fair and crystal river
For that some melancholic, distracted man
Hath drown’d himself in ’t.
          The White Devil. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Note 1.
They never taste who always drink;
They always talk who never think.
Matthew Prior: Upon a passage in the Scaligerana. [back]
Note 2.
What beckoning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
Alexander Pope: To the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. [back]
Note 3.
Death hath so many doors to let out life.—Beaumont and Fletcher: The Customs of the Country, act ii. sc. 2. [back]
Note 4.
See Davies, Quotation 2. [back]