Life & Wisdom Quote by Ben Jonson

Jonson needles the reader with a viciously modern paradox: the very thing you chase to prove your competence is what most reliably dismantles it. The sentence moves like a cautionary domino run - success, confidence, relaxation, negligence, ruin - compressing an entire career arc into one grim chain reaction. He doesn’t moralize with thunder; he diagnoses with clockwork.

The intent is prophylactic. Jonson, a poet and playwright who worked in the high-stakes patronage economy of early Stuart England, knew reputation wasn’t a vibe; it was currency. One sloppy masque, one ill-judged dedication, one recycled line, and the court or the public could decide you’d peaked. Accuracy, in that world, meant more than factual correctness. It signaled discipline, craft, and respect for an audience whose favor was fickle and whose gossip traveled fast.

The subtext is that confidence is not a virtue by default; it’s a solvent. It dissolves the friction that keeps workmanship honest. Jonson’s most cutting move is making “industry” (labor, diligence) something that can be “relaxed,” as if work ethic were a muscle that atrophies the moment you stop fearing failure. The final clause lands hardest: “the reputation which accuracy had raised.” Reputation is framed as an edifice built painstakingly, then demolished not by grand scandal but by negligence - the small, bored shortcuts that success whispers you can afford.

It’s also Jonson defending craft against charisma. Talent wins attention; accuracy keeps it.