Ben Jonson

[T]each thy Incubus to Poëtize, / And throwe abroad thy spurious Snotteries, / Upon that puft-up Lumpe of Barmy froth, […]

We have not been covetous, honourable fathers, to change, neither is it now any new lust that alters our affection, or old lothing, but those needful jealousies of state, that warn wiser princes hourly to provide their safety, and do teach them how learned a thing it is to beware of the humblest enemy; much more of those great ones, whom their own employed favours have made fit for their fears.

O, sir, 'tis past the scotomy;

[W]here ere I come, / I love to be considerative; and, 'tis true, / I have, at my free houres, thought upon / Some certaine Goods, unto the State of Venice, / Which I do call my Cautions: […]

He would have sold his part of paradise / For ready money, had he met a cope-man.

subject to the petulancy of every vernaculous orator

And am asham'd you' should ha' no more forehead / Than thus to be the patron, or St. George, / To a lewd harlot, a base fricatrice, / A female devil, in a male outside

You will not be acknown, sir; why, 'tis wise. / Thus do all gamesters, at all games, dissemble: / No man will seem to win.

As for those that will (by faults which charity hath raked up, or common honesty concealed) make themselves a name with the multitude, or, to draw their rude and beastly claps, care not whose living faces they intrench with their petulant styles, may they do it without a rival, for me! I choose rather to live graved in obscurity, than share with them in so preposterous a fame. Nor can I blame the wishes of those severe and wise patriots, who providing the hurts these licentious spirits may do in a state, desire rather to see fools and devils, and those antique relics of barbarism retrieved, with all other ridiculous and exploded follies, than behold the wounds of private men, of princes and nations

Go, cramp dull Mars, light Venus, when he snorts, / Or with thy tribade trine invent new sports; / Thou, nor thy looseness with my making sorts.