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CORNELL  STUDIES  IN  ENGLISH 

EDITED    BY 

JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS 

CLARK  SUTHERLAND  NORTHUP 

MARTIN  WRIGHT  SAMPSON 


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BEN  JONSON 

Prefixed  to  The  Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson,  1640,  and  Ben:  Jonson's 
Execration  against  Vulcan,  1640.  From  an  early  state  of  the  engraving  in  the 
library  of  Mr.  Beverly  Chew,  and  here  reproduced  by  permission. 


-C° 


THE 


JONSON  ALLUSION-BOOK 


A  COLLECTION  OF  ALLUSIONS  TO 
BEN  JONSON  FROM  1597  TO  1700 


BY 


JESSE  FRANKLIN  BRADLEY,  Ph.D. 

Assistant  Professor  of  English  in  the  University  of  Louisville 


AND 


JOSEPH  QUINCY  ADAMS,  Ph.D.,  Litt.D. 

Professor  of  English  in  Cornell  University    ' 


THIS  VOLUME  is  BASED  UPON  A  THESIS  PRESENTED  TO  THE  GRADUATE 

SCHOOL  OF  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY  FOR  THE  DEGREE  OF  DOCTOR 

OF  PHILOSOPHY  BY  JESSE  FRANKLIN  BRADLEY 


NEW  HAVEN:  YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

LONDON:  HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

MDCCCCXXII 


\ 


Copyright,  1922 
BY  YALE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 


First  Published  in  August  1922 


PR 


PREFACE 

This  volume  proposes  to  do  for  Jonson  what  The  Shakespeare 
Allusion-Book  does  for  Shakespeare.  While  primarily  intended 
to  set  forth  the  materials,  within  the  limits  specified,  relating 
to  Jonson's  career  as  a  man  of  letters,  and  to  disclose  the  estimates 
of  his  genius  as  expressed  by  his  contemporaries  and  immediate 
successors,  it  will  also  incidentally  supply  information  on  a 
variety  of  subjects  connected  with  the  literature  of  the  time. 
For  example,  it  will  be  of  service  as  a  partial  allusion-book  to 
many  poets  of  the  Elizabethan  and  Jacobean  ages;  and  it  will 
be  of  no  little  value  as  a  body  of  seventeenth-century  dramatic 
criticism. 

The  editors  are  not  vain  enough  to  suppose  that  they  have  been 
able  to  collect  all  the  important  references  to  Jonson;  for  only 
by  the  co-operation  of  many  scholars,  with  labor  extending  over 
a  long  period  of  years,  could  a  work  of  this  nature  be  made  even 
approximately  complete.  In  his  Preface  to  The  Shakespeare 
Allusion-Book,  the  editor  states:  "These  volumes  were  not  made 
in  a  day.  Thirty  years  have  passed  in  their  compilation,  and  the 
thousands  of  books  from  which  their  contents  have  been  drawn 
stretch  over  three  hundred  years.  Many  willing  hands,  too,  have 
lent  assistance.  Antiquarians,  scholars,  and  friendly  readers 
have  all  most  kindly  helped."  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  prolonged  and 
painstaking  effort  of  so  many  collaborators,  several  supplements 
to  the  volumes  have  appeared,  and  numerous  allusions  to  Shake 
speare  remain  still  ungathered.  The  editors  of  The  Jonson  Allu 
sion-Book  have  worked  without  assistance  of  any  kind,  and  they 
can  only  hope  that  they  have  made  a  fair  beginning. 

A  few  biographical  documents  have  been  included  when  these 
relate  to  the  poet's  literary  career;  doubtful  allusions,  unless 


vi  PREFACE 

supported  by  reasonable  evidence,  have  been  excluded;  and 
mere  indications  of  Jonson's  influence  upon  others,  in  the  form  of 
imitation  or  quotation,  have,  as  a  rule,  been  omitted.  More 
over,  in  the  period  following  the  Restoration  the  editors  have 
had  to  exercise  a  certain  discretion  in  condensing  allusions  and 
passing  over  those  possessing  little  or  no  significance.  Most  of 
these,  however,  have  been  collected,  and,  if  the  opportunity 
offers,  may  later  be  published  by  way  of  a  supplement.  Perhaps 
it  should  be  added  that  the  numerous  jingling  rhymes  printed  by 
W.  R.  Chetwood  in  his  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Sen 
Jonson,  1756,  have  been  entirely  ignored;  Chetwood  cites  no 
authority  for  them,  and  they  seem  to  be  crude  fabrications  of 
his  own  Muse. 

Mr.  Bradley  originally  undertook  the  task  of  gathering  these 
allusions  in  the  preparation  of  a  doctoral  dissertation  at  Cornell 
University,  and  to  him  belongs  the  major  credit  of  collecting  and 
transcribing  the  passages.  Later  Mr.  Adams  became  associated 
with  him  in  the  labor,  and  assumed  specifically  the  responsibility 
of  editing  the  material  for  the  reader. 

It  has  not  always  been  easy  to  fix  the  dates  of  the  passages 
quoted,  or  to  identify  the  authors;  and  in  dealing  with  such  a 
mass  of  detail,  it  has  doubtless  been  impossible  to  escape  errors. 
For  all  such  defects  the  editors  crave  the  indulgence  of  scholars. 


The  Privy  Council,  1597. 

A  letter  to  Richard  Topclyfe,  Thomas  Fowler,  and  Richard 
Skevington,  esquires,  Doctour  Fletcher  and  Mr.  Wilbraham. 

Uppon  informacion  given  us  of  a  lewd  plaie  [The  Isle  of  Dogs] 
that  was  plaied  in  one  of  the  plaiehowses  on  the  Bancke  Side, 
contanynge  very  seditious  and  sclaxiderous  matter,  wee  caused 
some  of  the  players  [Robert  Shaw,  Gabriel  Spencer,  and  Ben 
Jonson]  to  be  apprehended  and  corny tted  to  pryson,  whereof 
one  of  them  [Ben  Jonson]  was  not  only  an  actor  but  a  maker  of 
parte  of  the  said  plaie.  For  as  moche  as  yt  ys  thought  meete 
that  the  rest  of  the  players  or  actors  in  that  matter  shalbe 
apprehended  to  receave  soche  punyshment  as  theire  leude  and 
mutynous  behavior  doth  deserve,  these  shalbe  therefore  to  require 
you  to  examine  those  of  the  plaiers  that  are  corny  tted,  whose 
names  are  knowne  to  you,  Mr.  Topclyfe,  what  ys  become  of  the 
rest  of  theire  fellowes  that  either  had  theire  partes  in  the  devys- 
inge  of  that  sedytious  matter  or  that  were  actors  or  plaiers  in  the 
same,  what  copies  they  have  given  forth  of  the  said  playe  and  to 
whome,  and  soche  other  pointes  as  you  shall  thincke  meete  to  be 
demaunded  of  them,  wherein  you  shall  require  them  to  deale 
trulie  as  they  will  looke  to  receave  anie  favour.  Wee  praie  you 
also  to  peruse  soch  papers  as  were  fownde  in  Nash  his  lodgings, 
which  Ferrys,  a  Messenger  of  the  Chamber,  shall  delyver  unto 
you,  and  to  certyfie  us  th'examynacions  you  take. 

[Acts  of  the  Privy  Council  1597,  New  Series,  ed.  J.  R.  Dasent,  1890 
— ,  xxvii,  338.  The  letter  was  written  in  the  latter  half  of  July, 
and  relates  to  the  performance  of  The  Isle  of  Dogs  by  the  Pem 
broke's  Company  at  the  Swan.  For  a  full  discussion  of  this  episode 
see  Joseph  Q.  Adams,  Shakespearean  Playhouses,  pp.  170-75;  154- 
55-] 

Philip  Henslowe,  1597. 
ty  of  Bengemenes  Johnsones 

Share  as  followeth  1597 
R.  the  28  of  July  1597 iij8  ixd 


2  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

lent  unto  Bengemen  Johnson  player  the  28  of  July  1 
1597  in  Redey  mony  the  some  of  fower  poundes  to  [....„ 
be  payd  yt  agayne  when  so  ever  ether  I  or  any  for  I 

me  shall  demande  yt  I  saye J 

wittnes  E  Alleyn  &  John  Synger 

[Henslowe's  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1904,  pp.  47,  200.  The  meaning 
of  the  first  passage  is  not  clear;  the  second  passage  suggests  the 
interpretation  that  when  Jonson  was  in  trouble  over  The  Isle  of 
Dogs  he  applied  to  Henslowe  for  aid.] 

The  Privy  Council,  1597. 

A  warrant  to  the  keeper  of  the  Marshalsea  to  release  Gabriell 
Spencer  and  Robert  Shaa,  stage-players,  out  of  prison,  who  were 
of  lat  comitted  to  his  custodie.  The  like  warrant  for  the  releasing 
of  Benjamine  Johnson. 

[Acts  of  the  Privy  Council  1597,  New  Series,  ed.  J.  R.  Dasent,  1904, 
xxviii,  33.] 

The  Northumberland  Manuscripts,  about  1597-8. 

[Table  of  Contents.} 
*         *         *         * 

Rychard  the  second 
Rychard  the  third 
Asmund  and  Cornelia 

He  of  Doges  frmn*  [fragment]  by  Thomas  Nashe  &  inferior 
plaier[s]. 

[Northumberland  Manuscripts:  Collotype  Facsimile  and  Type  Transcript 
of  an  Elizabethan  Manuscript  preserved  at  Alnwick  Castle,  North 
umberland,  ed.  F.  J.  Burgoyne,  1904.] 

Philip  Henslowe,  1597-98. 

lent  unto  Bengemen  Johnsone  the  [2]  3  of  desembr 
1597  upon  a  Bocke  wch  he  was  to  writte  for  us 
befor  crysmas  next  after  the  date  herof  wch  he 
showed  the  plotte  unto  the  company  J  saye 
lente  in  Redy  money  unto  hime  the  some  of .... 

lent  unto  Bengemen  Johnson  the  3  of  desembr] 
1597  upon  a  boocke  wch  he  showed  the  plotte  unto  I 
the  company  wch  he  promysed  to  dd  unto  the  j 
company  at  cryssmas  next  the  some  of.  . 


TO   BEN  JONSON 

lent  Bengemyne  Johnson  the  5  of  Jenewary  1597"! 
J  Redy  mony  the  some  of  ....................  jv 

lent  unto  the  company  the  18  of  aguste  1598  to 
bye  a  Boocke  called  hoote  anger  sone  cowld  of 
mr  porter  mr  cheattell  &  bengemen  Johnson  in 
f  ulle  payment  the  some  of  .................... 

Lent  unto   Robart  shawe  &  Jewbey  the  23  of 
Octobr  1598  to  lend  unto  mr  Chapmane  one  his 
playe  boocke  &  ij  ectes  of  a  tragedie  of  bengemens 
plotte  the  some  of  ........................... 

[Henslowe's  Di&ry,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1904,  pp.  70,  82,  200,  93,  98.] 

Francis  Meres,  1598. 

...  .So  these  are  our  best  for  Tragedie,  The  Lorde  Buckhurst, 
Doctor  Leg  of  Cambridge,  Doctor  Edes  of  Oxford,  Master 
Edward  Ferris,  the  author  of  the  Mirror  for  Magistrates,  Marlow, 
Peele,  Watson,  Kid,  Shakespeare,  Dray  ton,  Chapman,  Decker, 
and  Beniamin  lohnson. 
[Palladis  Tamia,  1598.] 

Middlesex  Sessions'  Rolls,  1598. 

22  September,  40  Elizabeth.  —  True  Bill  against  Benjamin 
Johnson,  late  of  London,  yoman,  for  killing  Gabriel  Spencer  in 
the  fields  of  Shorediche. 

*         *         *         * 

Cogn'  Indictament  petit  librum  legit  vt  Cl'icus  sign'  cum  Vr'a  T 
Et  delr  juxta  formam  statut',  &c. 

Middss:  —  Juratores  pro  D'na  Regina  p'ntant  qd  Benjaminus 
Johnson  nup'  de  London  yoman  vicesimo  secundo  die  Septembris 
Anno  regni  d'n'e  n'r'e  Elizabethe  Dei  gra'  Anglie  Franc'  et 
Hib'  nie  Regine  fidei  defensor',  &c.,  quadragesimo  vi  &  armis,  &c. 
In  et  sup'  quendam  Gabrielem  Spencer  in  pace  Dei&d'c'e  d'n'e 
Regine  apud  Shordiche  in  Com'  Midd'  pred'  in  Campis  ib'm 
existen  insultu'  fecit  Et  eund'm  Gabrielem  cum  quodam  gladio 
de  ferro  et  calibe  vocat'  a  Rapiour  precii  iiis.  quern  in  manu  sua 
dextra  adtunc  &  ibi'm  h'uit  et  tenuit  extract'  felonice  ac  voluntar' 


4  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

percussit  &  pupugit  Dans  eidem  Gabrieli  Spencer  adtunc  &  ib'm 
cu'  gladio  pred'  in  et  sup'  dextern'  latus  ip'ius  Gabrielis  unam 
plagam  mortalem  p'funditat'  sex  pollic'  &  latidud'  unius  pollicis 
de  qua  quidem  plaga  mortali  id'm  Gabriel  Spencer  apud  Shordiche 
pred'  in  pred'c'o  Com'  Midd'  in  Campis  pred'c'is  adtunc  &  ib'm 
instant'  obiit  Et  sic  Jur'  pred'c'i  dicunt  sup'  Sacr'm  suu'  qd 
prefat'  Benjaminus  Johnson  pred'c'm  Gabrielem  Spencer  apud 
Shorediche  pred'in  pred'c'o  Com'  Midd'  &  in  Campis  predic'is 
[die  &  anno]  predic'is  felonice  et  voluntar'  interfecit  &  occidit 
contra  pacem  D'c'e  D'n'e  Regine,  &c. 

Translation: 

He  confesses  the  indictment,  asks  for  the  book]  reads  like  a  clerk, 
is  marked  with  the  letter  T,  and  is  delivered  according  to  the 
statute,  &c. 

Middlesex:— The  jurors  for  the  Lady  the  Queen  present,  that 
Benjamin  Johnson,  late  of  London,  yeoman,  on  the  22nd  day  of 
September,  in  the  fortieth  year  of  the  reign  of  our  Lady  Elizabeth, 
by  God's  grace  Queen  of  England,  France,  and  Ireland,  Defender 
of  the  Faith,  &.,  with  force  and  arms,  &c.,  made  an  attack 
against  and  upon  a  certain  Gabriel  "Spencer,  being  in  God's  and 
the  said  Lady  the  Queen's  peace,  at  Shordiche  in  the  aforesaid 
county  of  Middlesex,  in  the  Fields  there,  and  with  a  certain 
sword  of  iron  and  steel  called  a  Rapiour,  of  the  price  of  three 
shillings,  which  he  then  and  there  had  and  held  drawn  in  his 
right  hand,  feloniously  and  wilfully  beat  and  struck  the  same 
Gabriel,  giving  then  and  there  to  the  same  Gabriel  Spencer  with 
the  aforesaid  sword  a  mortal  wound  of  the  depth  of  six  inches 
and  of  the  breadth  of  one  inch,  in  and  upon  the  right  side  of  the 
same  Gabriel,  of  which  mortal  blow  the  same  Gabriel  Spencer 
at  Shordiche  aforesaid,  in  the  aforesaid  county,  in  the  aforesaid 
Fields,  then  and  there  died  instantly.  And  thus  the  aforesaid 
jurors  say  upon  their  oath,  that  the  aforesaid  Benjamin  Johnson, 
at  Shordiche  aforesaid,  in  the  aforesaid  county  of  Middlesex, 
and  in  the  aforesaid  Fields,  in  the  year  and  day  aforesaid, 
feloniously  and  wilfully  killed  and  slew  the  aforesaid  Gabriel 
Spencer,  against  the  peace  of  the  said  Lady  the  Queen,  &c. 

[Middlesex  Sessions'  Rolls,  ed.  J.  C.  Jeaffreson,  1886-92,  i,  249,  xxxviii.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON 

Philip  Henslowe,  1598. 

Letter  to  Edward  Alleyn,  September  26, 
.  .  .  J  will  teall  you  some  [news]  but  y t  is  for  me  harde  & 
heavey  sence  you  weare  wth  me  J  haue  loste  one  of  my  company 
wch  hurteth  me  greatley  that  is  gabrell  for  he  is  slayen  in  hogesden 
[Hoxton]  fylldes  by  the  hands  of  bengefmen]  Jonson  bricklayer 
therfore  J  wold  fayne  haue  alittell  of  your  cownsell  yf  J  cowld 
.  .  .  your  assured  frend 

to  my  power 

Phillippe  Henlowe 
[Henslowe  Papers,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1907,  p.  47.] 

Thomas  Nashe,  1599. 

The  straunge  turning  of  the  He  of  Dogs  fro  a  commedie  to  a 
tragedie  two  summers  past,  with  the  troublesome  stir  which 
hapned  aboute  it,  is  a  generall  rumour  that  hath  filled  all  England. 
[In  a  marginal  gloss  Nashe  says:]  I  hauing  begun  but  the  induc 
tion  and  first  act  of  it,  the  other  foure  acts  without  my  consent, 
or  the  least  guesse  of  my  drift,  or  scope,  by  the  players  were 
supplied,  which  bred  both  their  trouble  and  mine  to. 

[Lenten  Stuff e,  1599;  The  Works  of  Thomas  Nashe,  ed.  R.  B.  McKerrow, 
1905,  iii,  153-54.  For  Jensen's  share  in  The  Isle  of  Dogs  see  the 
entries  under  the  year  1597.]  • 

Philip  Henslowe,  1599. 

Lent  unto  wm  Borne  alles  birde  the  10  of  aguste  1599 

to    Lend    unto    bengemyne    Tohnsone    &    thomas 

Y xxxx8 
deckers  in  earneste  of  ther  boock  wch  they  [are]  a 

writtenge  called  pagge  of  p[le]moth  the  some 

Lent  unto  Thomas  downton  the  3  of  Septmbr  1599 
to  lend  unto  Thomas  deckers  Bengemen  Johnson 
hary  chettell  &  other  Jentellman  in  earneste  of  a  -xxxxs 
playe    calle    Robart    the    second    kinge    of   scottes 
tragedie  the  some  of 

Lent  unto  wm  Borne  the  27  of  Setmbr  1599  to  lend 
unto  Bengemen  Johnsone  in  earneste  of  a  Booke 

called  the  scottes  tragedie  the  some  of 

[Henslowe's  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1904,  i,  no,  in,  112.] 


6  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Weever,  1599- 

Ad  lo:  Marston,  &  Ben:  lohnson. 
Marston,  thy  Muse  enharbours  Horace  vaine, 
Then  some  Augustus  give  thee  Horace  merit, 
And  thine  embuskin'd  lohnson  doth  retaine 
So  rich  a  stile,  and  wondrous  gallant  spirit; 
That  if  to  praise  your  Muses  I  desired, 
My  Muse  would  muse.     Such  wittes  must  be  admired. 
[Epigrammes  in  the  Oldest  Cut  and  Newest  Fashion,  ed.  R.  B.  McKerrow, 
1911,  p.  96-] 

The  Stationers*  Registers,  1600. 

8  Aprilis 
William  holme 

Entred  for  his  copie  under  the  handes  of  master  Harsnet. 
and  master  Wyndet  warden.  A  Comicall  Satyr e  of 
euery  man  out  of  his  humour 

4.  Augusti 

As  you  like  yt  /  a  booke 
Henry  the  ffift  /  a  booke 
Euery  man  in  his  humour  /  a  booke 
The  commedie  of  'muche  A  doo  about  nothing'  /  a 
booke 

14.  Augusti 
Master  Burby 
Walter  Burre 

Entred  for  yeir  [their]  copie  under  the  handes  of  master 
Pasvill  [i.e.  Pasfeild]  and  ye  Wardens,  a  booke 

called  Euery  man  in  his  humour vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  159,  37,  169.] 

Title-pages,  1600. 

The  Comicall  Satyre  of  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humor.  As  it 
was  first  composed  by  the  Author  B.  I.  Containing  more  than 
hath  been  publikely  Spoken  or  Acted.  With  the  severall 
Character  of  every  Person.  [With  an  oblong  printer's  ornament 
of  two  winged  satyr-like  figures  supporting  a  vase.]  London, 
Printed  for  William  Holme  .  .  1600. 


•  to  be  staied 


TO   BEN  JONSON  7 

[Second  edition,  with  same  wording,  but  with  Peter  Short's 
device,  and  different  signatures  and  setting  of  type.]  London, 
Printed  for  William  Holme  .  .  .  1600. 

[Third  edition,  with  same  wording.]  London,  Printed  for 
Nicholas  Linge,  1600. 

John  Bodenham,  1600. 

To  the  Reader. 

.  .  .  Now  that  euery  one  may  be  fully  satisfied  concerning 
this  Garden,  that  no  man  doth  assume  to  him-selfe  the  praise 
thereof,  or  can  arrogate  to  his  owne  deseruing  those  things  which 
haue  been  deriued  from  so  many  rare  and  ingenious  spirits;  I 
haue  set  down  both  how,  whence,  and  where  these  flowres  had 
their  first  springing,  till  thus  they  were  drawne  togither  into  the 
Muses  Garden,  that  euery  ground  may  challenge  his  owne,  each 
plant  his  particular,  and  no  one  be  iniuried  in  the  iustice  of  his 
merit  .  .  .  out  of  .... 

Thomas,  Earle  of  Surrey. 

The  Lord  Marquesse  of  Winchester. 

Mary,  Countesse  of  Pembrooke. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
From  Poems  and  workes  of  these  noble  personages,  extant. 

Edward,  Earle  of  Oxenford. 

Ferdinando,  Earle  of  Derby. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

Sir  Edward  Dyer. 

Fulke  Greuile,  Esquier. 

Sir  John  Harrington. 

From  diuers  essayes  of  their  Poetrie ;  some  extant  among  other 
Honourable  personages  writings ;  some  from  priuate  labours  and 
translations. 

Edmund  Spencer. 

Henry  Constable,  Esquier. 

Samuell  Daniell. 

Thomas  Lodge,  Doctor  of  Physicke. 

Thomas  Watson. 


8  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Michaell  Dray  ton. 

John  Dames. 

Thomas  Hudson. 

Henrie  Locke,  Esquier. 

John  Mar  stone. 

Christopher  Marlow. 

Beniamin  Johnson. 

William  Shakspeare. 

Thomas  Churchyard,  Esquier. 

Thomas  Nash. 

Thomas  Kidde. 

George  Peele. 

Robert  Greene. 

Josuah  Syluester. 

Nicholas  Breton. 

Geruase  Markham. 

Thomas  Storer. 

Robert  Wilmot. 

Christopher  Middleton. 

Richard  Barnefield. 

These  being  Moderne  and  extant  Poets,  that  have  liu'd 
togither;  from  many  of  their  extant  workes,  and  some  kept  in 
priuat. 

Thomas  Norton  Esquier. 

George  Gascoigne  Esquier. 

Frauncis  Kindlemarsh,  Esquier. 

Thomas  Atchlow. 

George  Whetstones. 
These  being  deceased.  .  .  . 

[Belvedere,  or  The  Garden  of  the  Muses,  reprinted  in  The  Spenser  Society's 
Publications,  1875.  The  volume  consists  of  a  collection  of  brief 
extracts  from  the  English  poets  mentioned  above.  Four  passages 
are  quoted  from  Jonson's  The  Case  is  Altered.] 

Robert  Allot,  1600. 

[In  his  England's  Parnassus,  or  The  Choicest  Flowers  of  our 
Modern  Poets,  Allot  quotes :  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  II,  i,  223, 
and  V,  i,  265;  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  Induction,  11.  181, 


TO   BEN   JONSON  9 

230,  I,  i,  343,  I,  i,  405,  II,  ii,  80,  III,  ii,  113,  IV,  iv,  188;  The 
Forest,  Epode  XI;  Underwoods,  Ode  to  the  Earl  of  Desmond. 
The  following  passages  attributed  to  Jonson  remain  untraced : 

Those  that  in  blood  such  violent  pleasure  have, 
Seldome  descend  but  bleeding  to  their  grave.     (P.  159.) 

Warres  greatest  woes,  and  miseries  increase, 

Flowes  fro  the  surfets  which  we  take  in  peace.     (P.  171.) 

Gold  is  a  sutor,  never  tooke  repulse, 

It  carries  Palme  with  it,  (where  e're  it  goes) 

Respect,  and  observation;  it  uncovers 

The  knottie  heads  of  the  most  surly  Groomes, 

Enforcing  yron  doores  to  yeeld  it  way, 

Were  they  as  strong  ram'd  up  as  Aetna  gates. 

It  bends  the  hams  of  Gossip  Vigilance, 

And  makes  her  supple  feete,  as  swift  as  winde. 

It  thawes  the  frostiest,  and  most  stiffe  disdaine: 

Muffles  the  clearnesse  of  Election, 

Straines  fancie  unto  foule  Apostacie. 

And  strikes  the  quickest-sighted  ludgement  blinde. 

Then  why  should  we  dispaire?  dispaire?  Away: 

Where  Gold's  the  Motive,  women  have  no  Nay.     (P.  192.)] 

John  Marston,  1 600-01. 

Phi[lomuse\.     .  .  .  Believe  it,  Doricus,  his  spirit 
Is  higher  blooded  than  to  quake  and  pant 
At  the  report  of  Scoff's  artillery. 
Shall  he  be  crest-fall'n,  if  some  looser  brain, 
]ji  flux  of  wit  uncivilly  befilth 
His  slight  composures?     Shall  his  bosom  faint, 
If  drunken  Censure  belch  out  sour  breath 
From  Hatred's  surfeit  on  his  labour's  front? 
Nay,  say  some  half  a  dozen  rancorous  breasts 
Should  plant  themselves  on  purpose  to  discharge 
Imposthum'd  malice  on  his  latest  scene, 
Shall  his  resolve  be  struck  through  with  the  blirt 


I0  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

Of  a  goose-breath?     What  imperfect-born, 
What  short-liv'd  meteor,  what  cold-hearted  snow 
Would  melt  in  dolour,  cloud  his  mudded  eyes, 
Sink  down  his  jaws,  if  that  some  juiceless  husk, 
Some  boundless  ignorance,  should  on  sudden  shoot 
His  gross-knobb'd  burbolt  with — "  That's  not  so  good: 
Mew,  blirt,  ha,  ha,  light  chaffy  stuff!  " 
Why,  gentle  spirits,  what  loose-waving  vane, 
What  anything,  would  thus  be  screw'd  about 
With  each  slight  touch  of  odd  phantasmatas? 
No,  let  the  feeble  palsey'd  lamer  joints 
Lean  on  opinion's  crutches;  let  the — 

Dor[icus\.     Nay,  nay,  nay. 

Heaven's  my  hope,  I  cannot  smooth  this  strain; 
Wit's  death,  I  cannot.     What  a  leprous  humour 
Breaks  from  rank  swelling  of  these  bubbling  wits? 
Now  out  upon  't,  I  wonder  what  tight  brain, 
Wrung  in  this  custom  to  maintain  contempt 
'Gainst  common  censure;  to  give  stiff  counter-buffs, 
To  crack  rude  scorn  even  on  the  very  face 
Of  better  audience.     Slight,  is't  not  odious? 
Why,  hark  you,  honest,  honest  Philomuse 
(You  that  endeavour  to  endear  our  thoughts 
To  the  composer's  spirit),  hold  this  firm: 
Music  and  poetry  were  first  approved 
By  common  sense;  and  that  which  pleased  most, 
Held  most  allowed  pass :  know,  rules  of  art 
Were  shaped  to  pleasure,  not  pleasure  to  your  rules; 
Think  you,  if  that  his  scenes  took  stamp  in  mint 
Of  three  or  four  deem'd  most  judicious, 
It  must  enforce  the  world  to  current  them, 
That  you  must  spit  defiance  on  dislike? 
Now,  as  I  love  the  light,  were  I  to  pass 
Through  public  verdict,  I  should  fear  my  form, 
Lest  ought  I  offer'd  were  unsquared  or  warp'd. 
The  more  we  know,  the  more  we  want : 
What  Bayard  bolder  than  the  ignorant? 


TO    BEN   JONSON  II 

Believe  me,  Philomuse,  i'  faith  thou  must, 
The  best,  best  seal  of  wit  is  wit's  distrust. 

[The  Induction  to  What  You  Will.  It  is  generally  supposed  that  in 
this  passage  Marston  rebukes  Jonson  for  his  arrogant  scorn  of 
public  criticism.] 

John  Marston,  1 600-01. 

Sim[plicius  Faber].  Monsieur  Laverdure,  do  you  see  that 
gentleman?  He  goes  but  in  black  satin,  as  you  see,  but,  by 
Helicon!  he  hath  a  cloth  of  tissue  wit.  He  breaks  a  jest;  ha, 
he'll  rail  against  the  courts  till  the  gallants — O  God!  he  is  very 
nectar;  if  you  but  sip  of  his  love,  you  were  immortal.  .  .  . 

(P-  345-) 

*  *         *         * 

Lampatho.     I'll  stand  as  confident  as  Hercules, 
And,  with  a  frightless  resolution, 
Rip  up  and  lance  our  time's  impieties  .  .  . 
Let  me  unbrace  my  breasts,  strip  up  my  sleeves, 
Stand  like  an  executioner  to  vice  .  .  . 
For  I'll  make  greatness  quake.     I'll  tan  the  hide 
Of  thick-skinn'd  Hugeness  .  .  . 
This  is  the  strain  that  chokes  the  theatres; 
That  makes  them  crack  with  full-stuff'd  audience; 
This  is  your  humour  only  in  request, 

Forsooth  to  rail.     (P.  376.) 

*  *         *         * 

Jaco.     They  say  there's  revels  and  a  play  at  court. 

Lav.     A  play  to-night? 

Qua.     Ay,  'tis  this  gallant's  wit. 

Jaco.     Is't  good?     Is't  good? 

Lam.     I  fear  'twill  hardly  hit.     (P.  403.) 

[What  You  Will;  the  page  references  are  to  The  Works  of  John  Marston, 
ed.  A.  H.  Bullen,  1887,  vol.  ii.  Throughout  the  play  Marston 
satirizes  Jonson  in  the  person  of  Lampatho.  The  above  passages 
are  cited  merely  by  way  of  illustration.  The  last  refers  to  Jonson's 
Cynthia's  Revels.} 


I2  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1601. 

23  Maij 
Walter  Burre 

Entred  for  his  Copye  under  the  handes  of  master 
Pasfeyld  and  master  warden  whyte  A  booke  called 
Narcissus  the  fountaine  of  self  love vjd 

21  Decembris. 
Mat  he  we  Lownes 

Entred  for  his  copie  under  the  handes  of  master  Pas- 
feild  and  the  Wardens.  A  booke  called  Poetaster  or 

his  arrai[g]nement vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  185,  199.] 

Title-pages,  1601. 

Every  Man  in  his  Humor.  As  it  hath  beene  sundry  times 
publikely  acted  by  the  right  honorable  the  Lord  Chamberlaine 
his  servants.  Written  by  Ben.  lohnson.  Imprinted  at  London 
for  Walter  Burre,  .  .  .  1601. 

The  Fountaine  of  Selfe-Love.  Or  Cynthias  Revels.  As  it 
hath  beene  sundry  times  privately  acted  in  the  Black-Friers  by 
the  Children  of  her  Maiesties  Chappell.  Written  by  Ben: 
lohnson.  .  .  .  Imprinted  at  London  for  Walter  Burre,  .  .  • 
1601. 

Charles  Fitzgeoffrey,  1601. 
Ad  Benjaminum  Jonsonum. 
In  jus  te  voco,  JONSONI  venito: 
Adsum,  qui  plagii  et  malae  rapinae 
Te  ad  Phcebi  peragam  reum  tribunal, 
Assidente  choro  novem  dearum. 
Quaedam  dramata  scilicet  diserta, 
Nuper  quae  Elysii  roseti  in  umbra, 
Faestivissimus  omnium  poeta, 
Plautus  composuit,  diisque  tandem 
Stellato  exhibuit  poli  in  theatro, 
Movendo  superis  leves  cachinnos, 
Et  risos  tetrico  Jovi  ciendo, 


TO   BEN   JONSON  13 

Axe  plausibus  intonante  utroque ; 
Haec  tu  dramata  scilicet  diserta, 
Clepsisti  superis  negotiosis, 
Quae  tu  nunc  tua  venditare  pergis : 

In  jus  te  voco,  Jonsoni  venito. 

En  pro  te  pater  ipse,  Rexque  Phoebus 
Assurgit  modo,  Jonsoni,  palamque 
Testatur,  tua  serio  fuisse 
Ilia  dramata,  teque  condidisse 
Sese  non  modo  conscio,  at  juvante: 
Unde  ergo  sibi  Plautus  ilia  tandem 
Nactus  exhibuit,  Jovi  Deisque? 
Maiae  Filius,  et  Nepos  Atlantis, 
Pennatus  celeres  pedes,  at  ungues 
Viscatus,  volucer  puer,  vaferque, 
Furto  condere  quidlibet  jdcoso, 
Ut  quondam  facibus  suis  Amorem 
Per  ludos  viduavit,  et  pharetra, 
Sic  nuper  (siquidem  solet  frequenter 
Tecum  ludere,  plaudere,  et  jocari) 
Neglectas  tibi  clepsit  has  papyrus 
Secumque  ad  superos  abire  jussit: 

Jam  victus  taceo  pudore,  vincis 

Phoebo  Judice,  JONSONI,  et  Patrono. 
[Charles  Fitzgeoffrey,  Affaniae:  sive  Epigrammatum,  1601.] 

Love's  Martyr,  1601. 

Hereafter  Follow  Diverse  Poeticall  Essaies  on  the  former 
Subject;  viz:  the  Turtle  and  Phcenix.  Done  by  the  best  and 
chief est  of  our  moderne  writers,  with  their  names  subscribed  to 
their  particular  workes:  never  before  extant.  And  (now  first) 
consecrated  by  them  all  generally,  to  the  love  and  merite  of  the 
true-noble  Knight,  Sir  lohn  Salisburie.  Dignum  laude  virum 
Musa  vetat  mori.  [Printer's  device.]  MDCI. 

[The  above  is  the  title  of  a  small  collection  of  verse  appended  to  Robert 
Chester's  Love's  Martyr,  celebrating  Chester's  patron,  Sir  John 
Salisbury.  Jonson  contributes  a  poem,  as  do  also  Shakespeare, 
Chapman,  Marston,  and  "Ignoto."] 


I4  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Philip  Henslowe,  1601. 

Lent  unto   mr  alleyn   the   25   of  septmbr 
1601  to  lend  unto  Bengemen  Johnson  upon 

f  ./LA.  A.  A. 

his  writtinge  of  his  adicians  in  geronymo 

the  some  of 

[Henslowe's  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1904,  i,  149-     The  entry  relates  to 
additions  to  Thomas  Kyd's  The  Spanish  Tragedy.} 

Thomas  Dekker,  1601. 

To  the  World. 

...  I  care  not  much  if  I  make  description  (before  thy  Uni 
versality}  of  that  terrible  Poetomachia  lately  commenc'd  betweene 
Horace  the  second  [i.e.  Jonson]  and  a  band  of  leane-witted  Poet 
asters  [Marston,  Dekker,  and  others].  They  have  bin  at  high 
wordes,  and  so  high,  that  the  ground  could  not  serve  them,  but 
(for  want  of  chopins)  have  stalk't  upon  Stages. 

Horace  hal'd  his  Poetasters  to  the  barre  [in  his  play,  Poetaster], 
the  Poetasters  untruss'd  Horace  [in  Satiromastix,  or  The  Un- 
trussing  of  the  Humorous  Poet}:  how  worthily  eyther,  or  how 
wrongfully,  (World)  leave  it  to  the  jurie.  Horace  (questionles) 
made  himselfe  beleeve,  that  his  Burgonian  wit  might  desperately 
challenge  all  commers,  and  that  none  durst  take  up  the  foyles 
against  him.  It's  likely,  if  he  had  not  so  beleiv'd,  he  had  not 
bin  so  deceiv'd,  for  hee  was  answer'd  at  his  owne  weapon;  and 
if  before  Apollo  himselfe  (who  is  Corbnator  Poetarum]  an  in 
quisition  should  be  taken  touching  this  lamentable  merry  murder 
ing  of  Innocent  Poetry,  all  Mount  Helicon  to  Bun-hill,  it  would 
be  found  on  the  Poetasters  side  se  defendendo.  Notwithstanding, 
the  Doctors  thinke  otherwise.  I  meete  one  and  he  runnes  full 
butt  at  me  with  his  satires  homes,  for  that  in  untrussing  Horace 
I  did  onely  whip  his  fortunes  and  condition  of  life,  where  the 
more  noble  reprehension  had  bin  of  his  mindes  deformitie,  whose 
greatnes,  if  his  criticall  lynx  had  with  as  narrow  eyes  observ'd  in 
himselfe,  as  it  did  little  spots  upon  others,  without  all  disputation, 
Horace  would  not  have  left  Horace  out  of  Every  man  in's  Humour. 
His  fortunes?  why,  does  not  he  taxe  that  onely  in  others?  Read 
his  Arraignement  and  see.  A  second  cat-a-mountaine  mewes 


TO   BEN   JONSON  15 

and  calles  me  barren,  because  my  brames  could  bring  foorth 
no  other  stigmaticke  than  Tucca,  whome  Horace  had  put  to 
making,  and  begot  to  my  hand;  but  I  wonder  what  language 
Tucca  would  have  spoke,  if  honest  Capten  Hannam  had  bin 
borne  without  a  tongue?  1st  not  as  lawfull  then  for  mee  to 
imitate  Horace,  as  Horace  Hannam?  Besides,  if  I  had  made  an 
opposition  of  any  other  new-minted  fellow,  (of  what  test  so  ever) 
hee  had  bin  out-fac'd  and  out-weyed  by  a  settled  former  approba 
tion;  neyther  was  it  much  improper  to  set  the  same  dog  upon 
Horace,  whom  Horace  had  set  to  worrie  others. 

I  could  heere  (eeven  with  the  feather  of  my  pen)  wipe  off  other 
ridiculous  imputations,  but  my  best  way  to  answer  them,  is  to 
laugh  at  them:  onely  thus  much  I  protest  (and  sweare  by  the 
divinest  part  of  true  Poesie)  that  (howsoever  the  limmes  of  my 
naked  lines  may  bee,  and  I  know  have  bin,  tortur'd  on  the 
racke)  they  are  free  from  conspiring  the  least  disgrace  to  any 
man,  but  onely  to  our.  new  Horace;  neyther  should  this  ghost 
of  Tucca  have  walkt  up  and  downe  Poules  Church-yard,  but  that 
hee  was  raiz'd  up  (in  print)  by  newe  exorcismes.  World,  if  thy 
Hugenes  will  beleive  this,  doe;  if  not,  I  care  not,  for  I  dedicate 
my  booke,  not  to  thy  Greatnes,  but  to  the  Greatnes  of  thy  scorne, 
defying  which,  let  that  mad  dog  Detraction  bite  till  his  teeth 
bee  worne  to  the  stumps.  Envy  feede  thy  snakes  so  fat  with 
poyson  till  they  burst.  World,  let  all  thy  adders  shoote  out 
their  Hidra-headed-forked  stinges.  Ha,  Ha,  Nauci;  if  none  will 
take  my  part,  (as  I  desire  none)  yet  I  thanke  thee  (thou  true 
Venusian  Horace)  for  these  good  wordes  thou  giv'st  me :  Pop.ulus 
me  sibylat  at  mihi  plaudo.  World  farewell. 
*  *  *  * 

Horrace  [i.e.  Jonson]  sitting  in  a  study  behinde  a  curtaine,  a 
candle  by  him  burning,  bookes  lying  confusedly:  to  himself e. 

Horace.     To  thee  whose  fore-head  swels  with  roses, 
Whose  most  haunted  bower 
Gives  life  &  sent  to  every  flower, 
Whose  most  adored  name  incloses 
Things  abstruse,  deep,  and  divine, 
Whose  yellow  tresses  shine, 


!6  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Bright  as  Eoan  fire. 

O  me,  thy  priest,  inspire! 

For  I  to  thee  and  thine  immortall  name, 

In — in — in  golden  tunes, 

For  I  to  thee  and  thine  immortall  name — 

In — sacred  raptures  flowing,  flowing,  swimming,  swimming, 

In  sacred  raptures  swimming, 

Immortal  name,  game,  dame,  tame,  lame,  lame,  lame, 

Pux,  hath,  shame,  proclaime,  oh — 

In  sacred  raptures  flowing,  will  proclaime,  not— 

O  me,  thy  priest,  inspyre! 

For  I  to  thee  and  thine  immortall  name, 

In  flowing  numbers  fild  with  spright  and  flame, 

Good,  good!  in  flowing  numbers  fild  with  spright  &  flame.  .  .  . 

(I,  ii,  1-20.) 

*  *         *         * 

Asin[ius\.  ...  As  God  judge  me,  ningle,  for  thy  wit  thou 
mayst  answer  any  Justice  of  peace  in  England  I  warrant;  thou 
writ'st  in  a  most  goodly  big  hand  too — I  like  that — &  readst  as 
leageably  as  some  that  have  bin  sav'd  by  their  neck- verse. 

(I,  ii,  137-42.) 

*  *         *         * 

Hor.  A  pox  upon  him !  By  the  white  &  soft  hand  of  Minerva, 
He  make  him  [Captain  Tucca]  the  most  ridiculous — dam  me  if  I 
bring  not's  humor  ath  stage!  & — scurvy,  lymping  tongu'd 
captaine,  poor  greasie  buffe  jerkin,  hang  him!  Tis  out  of  his 
element  to  traduce  me:  I  am  too  well  ranckt,  Asinius,  to  bee 
stab'd  with  his  dudgion  wit:  sirra,  He  compose  an  epigram  upon 
him,  shall  goe  thus — 

Asin.  Nay,  I  ha  more  news :  ther's  Crispinus  &  his  jorneyman 
poet,  Demetrius  Fannius,  too,  they  sweare  they'll  bring  your  life 
&  death  upon'th  stage  like  a  bricklayer  in  a  play.  (I,  ii,  161-173.) 

*  *         *         * 

Cm.     Doe  we  not  see  fooles  laugh  at  heaven,  and  mocke 
The  Makers  workmanship?     Be  not  you  griev'd, 
If  that  which  you  molde  faire,  upright,  and  smooth, 
Be  skrewed  awry,  made  crooked,  lame  and  vile, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  17 

By  racking  coments,  and  calumnious  tongues; 
So  to  be  bit,  it  ranckles  not,  for  innocence 
May  with  a  feather  brush  off  the  foulest  wrongs. 
But  when  your  dastard  wit  will  strike  at  men 
In  corners,  and  in  riddles  folde  the  vices 
Of  your  best  friends,  you  must  not  take  to  heart, 
If  they  take  off  all  gilding  from  their  pilles, 
And  onely  offer  you  the  bitter  coare. 

HOT.     Crispinus! 

Cris.     Say  that  you  have  not  sworne  unto  your  paper, 
To  blot  her  white  cheekes  with  the  dregs  and  bottome 
Of  your  friends  private  vices :  say  you  sweare 
Your  love  and  your  aleageance  to  bright  vertue 
Makes  you  descend  so  low  as  to  put  on 
The  office  of  an  executioner, 
Onely  to  strike  off  the  swolne  head  of  sinne, 
Where  ere  you  finde  it  standing: 
Say  you  sweare, 

And  make  damnation  parcell  of  your  oath, 
That  when  your  lashing  jestes  make  all  men  bleed, 
Yet  you  whip  none.     Court,  citty,  country,  friends, 
Foes,  all  must  smart  alike;  yet  court,  nor  citty, 
Nor  foe,  nor  friend,  dare  winch  at  you.     (I,  ii,  259-84.) 
*         *         *         * 

Tucca.  .  .  .  Why  doe  you  walk  heere  in  this  gorgeous  gallery 
of  gallant  inventions,  with  that  whooreson,  poore  lyme  &  hayre- 
rascall?  why — 

Cris.     O  peace,  good  Tucca,  we  are  all  sworne  friends. 

Tuc.  Sworne?  That  Judas  yonder  that  walkes  in  rug,  will 
dub  you  Knights  ath  Poste,  if  you  serve  under  his  band  of  oaths  : 
the  copper-fact  rascal  wil  for  a  good  supper  out  sweare  twelve 
dozen  of  graund  juryes. 

Blunt.     A  pox  ont,  not  done  yet,  and  bin  about  it  three  dayes? 

Hor.     By  Jesu,  within  this  houre — save  you,  Captayne  Tucca. 

Tuc.  Dam  thee,  thou  thin  bearded  hermaphrodite,  dam  thee, 
He  save  my  selfe  for  one,  I  warrant  thee.  Is  this  thy  tub, 
Diogines?  (I,  ii,  330-46.) 


1 8  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

Tuc.  Out,  bench-whistler,  out,  ile  not  take  thy  word  for  a 
dagger  pye:  you  browne-bread-mouth  stinker,  Ile  teach  thee  to 
turne  me  into  Bankes  his  horse,  and  to  tell  gentlemen  I  am  a 
jugler,  and  can  shew  trickes. 

Hor.     Captaine  Tucca,  but  halfe  a  word  in  your  eare. 

Tuc.  No,  you  starv'd  rascall,  thou't  bite  off  mine  eares 
then:  you  must  have  three  or  foure  suites  of  names,  when  like  a 
lowsie,  pediculous  vermin  th'ast  but  one  suite  to  thy  backer 
you  must  be  call'd  Asper,  and  Criticus,  and  Horace,  thy  tytle's 
longer  a  reading  then  the  stile  a  the  big  Turkes — Asper,  Criticus, 
Quintus  Horatius  Flaccus.  (I,  ii,  366-80.) 
*  *  *  * 

Blunt.     Nay  prethee,  deare  Tucca,  come,  you  shall  shake — 

Tuc.  Not  hands  with  great  Hunkes  there,  not  hands,  but  Ile 
shake  the  gull-groper  out  of  his  tan'd  skinne. 

Cris.  &  Dem.     For  our  sake,  Captaine,  nay,  prethee,  holde. 

Tuc.  Thou  wrongst  heere  a  good,  honest  rascall,  Crispinus, 
and  a  poore  varlet,  Demetrius  Fannius,  (bretheren  in  thine  owne 
trade  of  poetry) ;  thou  sayst  Crispinus  sattin  dublet  is  reavel'd 
out  heere,  and  that  this  penurious  sneaker  is  out  at  elboes. 
Goe  two,  my  good  full-mouth'd  ban-dog,  lie  ha  thee  friends 
with  both. 

Hor.  With  all  my  heart,  captaine  Tucca,  and  with  you  too, 
Ile  laye  my  handes  under  your  feete,  to  keepe  them  from  aking. 

Omnes.     Can  you  have  any  more?  9 

Tuc.  ...  lie  have  thee  in  league  first  with  these  two  rowly 
powlies:  .  .  .  Crispinus  shall  give  thee  an  olde  cast  sattin  suite, 
and  Demetrius  shall  write  thee  a  scene  or  two,  in  one  of  thy 
strong  garlicke  comedies;  and  thou  shalt  take  the  guilt  of  con 
science  for't,  and  sweare  tis  thine  owne,  olde  lad,  tis  thine  owne: 
thou  never  yet  fels't  into  the  hands  of  sattin,  didst? 

Hor.     Never,  Captaine,  I  thanke  God. 

Tuc.  Goe  too,  thou  shalt  now,  King  Gorboduck,  thou  shalt, 
because  lie  ha  thee  damn'd,  lie  ha  thee  all  in  sattin,  Asper, 
Criticus,  Quintus  Horatius  Flaccus;  Crispinus  shall  doo't,  thou 
shalt  doo't,  heyre  apparant  of  Helicon,  thou  shalt  doo't.  (I,  ii, 
385-420.) 


TO   BEN   JONSON  19 

Tuc.  ...  I  know  th'art  an  honest,  low  minded  pigmey,  foi 
I  ha  seene  thy  shoulders  lapt  in  a  plaiers  old  cast  cloake,  like  a 
slie  knave  as  thou  art:  and  when  thou  ranst  mad  for  the  death  of- 
Horatio,  thou  borrowedst  a  gowne  of  Roscius  the  stager,  (that 
honest  Nicodemus)  and  sentst  it  home  lowsie,  didst  not?  Re- 
sponde,  didst  not?  .  .  .  What,  wut  end?  wut  hang  thy  selfe 
now?  has  he  not  writ  finis  yet,  Jacke?  What,  will  he  bee  fif- 
teene  weekes  about  this  cockatrices  egge  too?  has  hee  not  cackeld 
yet?  not  laide  yet? 

Blunt.     Not  yet,  hee  sweares  hee  will  within  this  houre. 

Tuc.  His  wittes  are  somewhat  Hard  bound:  the  puncke,  his 
muse,  has  sore  labour  ere  the  whoore  be  delivered:  the  poore 
saffron-cheeke  sun-burnt  gipsie  wantes  phisicke;  give  the  hungrie- 
face  pudding-pye-eater  ten  pilles,  ten  shillings,  my  faire  Angelica, 
they'l  make  his  muse  as  yare  as  a  tumbler. 

Blunt.     He  shall  not  want  for  money,  if  heele  write. 

Tuc.     ...  He  dam  rip's  oven-mouth  for  rayling  at's.     (I,  ii, 

433-650 

*  *         *         * 

King.     Horace?     What's  he,  Sir  Vaughan? 

Sir  Vaughan.  As  hard-favourd  a  fellow  as  your  majestic  has 
seene  in  a  sommers  day;  he  does  pen,  an't  please  your  grace, 
toyes  that  will  not  please  your  grace;  tis  a  poet — we  call  them 
bardes  in  our  countrie — singes  ballads  and  rymes,  and  I  was 
mightie  sealous  that  his  inke,  which  is  blacke  and  full  of  gall, 
had  brought  my  name  to  your  majestic,  and  so  lifted  up  your 
hye  and  princely  coller. 

King.     I  neither  know  that  Horace,  nor  mine  anger.     (II,  i, 

150-60.) 

*  *         *         * 

Hor.  Well,  away,  deare  Asinius,  deliver  this  letter  to  the 
young  gallant,  Druso,  he  that  fell  so  strongly  in  love  with  mee 
yesternight. 

Asin.  .  .  .  But  hast  writ  all  this  since,  ningle?  I  know  thou 
hast  a  good  running  head  and  thou  listest. 

Hor.  .  .  .  Why,  you  rooke,  I  have  a  set  of  letters  readie 
starcht  to  my  hands,  which  to  any  fresh  suited  gallant  that  but 


20  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

newlie  enters  his  name  into  my  rowle,  I  send  the  next  morning, 
ere  his  ten  a  clocke  dreame  has  rize  from  him,  onelie  with  claping 
•  my  hand  to  't,  that  my  novice  shall  start,  ho,  and  his  haire 
stand  an  end,  when  hee  sees  the  sodaine  flash  of  my  writing. 
What,  you  prettie,  diminutive  roague,  we  must  have  false  fiers 
to  amaze  these  spangle  babies,  these  true  heires  of  Ma[ster] 
Justice  Shallow.  .  .  .  heere  be  epigrams  upon  Tucca,  divulge 
these  among  the  gallants.  .  .  .  (II,  ii,  26-49.) 

*  *         *         * 

Sir  Quint[ilian].  What  gentleman  is  this  in  the  mandilian, 
a  soldyer? 

Sir  Vaughan.  No,  tho  he  has  a  very  bad  face  for  a  souldier, 
yet  he  has  as  desperate  a  wit  as  ever  any  scholler  went  to 
cuffes  for;  tis  a  sentleman  poet;  he  has  made  rimes  called 
thalamimums,  for  M.  Pride-groome.  .  .  . 

Sir  Quint.  Is  this  he?  Welcome,  sir,  your  name?  Pray 
you  walke  not  so  statelie,  but  be  acquainted  with  me  boldlie; 
your  name,  sir? 

Hor.     Quintus  Horacius  Flaccus.     (Ill,  i,  69-79.) 

*  *         *         * 

Sir  Vaughan.  ...  I  will  indite  the  ladies  &  Miniver  caps 
to  a  dinner  of  plumbes,  and  I  shall  desire  you,  M.  Horace,  to 
speake  or  raile;  you  can  raile,  I  hope  in  God  a  mighty. 

Hor.     You  meane  to  speake  bitterlie. 

Sir  Vaughan.  Right,  to  spitte  bitterly  upon  baldnes,  or  the 
thinnes  of  haire.  (Ill,  i,  116-22.) 

*  *         *         * 

Tuc[ca\.     .  .  .  Thou  hast  been  at  Parris  garden  hast  not? 

Hor.     Yes,  Captaine,  I  ha  plaide  Zulziman  there. 

Sir  Vaughan.  Then,  M.  Horace,  you  plaide  the  part  of  an 
honest  man. 

Tuc.  Death  of  Hercules,  he  could  never  play  that  part  well 
in  's  life,  no  Fulkes  you  could  not:  thou  call'st  Demetrius  jorney- 
man  poet,  but  thou  putst  up  a  supplication  to  be  a  poore  jorney- 
man  player,  and  hadst  beene  still  so,  but  that  thou  couldst  not 
set  a  good  face  upon  't:  thou  hast  forgot  how  thou  amblest  (in 
leather  pilch)  by  a  play-wagon,  in  the  high  way,  and  took'st  mad 


TO   BEN   JONSON  21 

Jeronimoes  part,  to  get  service  among  the  mimickes:  and,  when 
the  Stagerites  banisht  thee  into  the  He  of  Dogs,  thou  turn'dst 
ban-dog  (villanous  Guy)  &  ever  since  bitest,  therefore  I  aske  if 
th'ast  been  at  Parris-garden,  because  thou  hast  such  a  good 
mouth;  thou  baitst  well,  read,  lege,  save  thy  selfe  and  read. 

(IV,  i,  151-70.) 

*  *         *         * 

Boy.     Capten,  Capten,  Horace  stands  sneaking  heere. 

Tuc.  I  smelt  the  foule-fisted  morter-treader :  come,  my  most 
damnable  fastidious  rascal,  I  have  a  suite  to  both  of  you. 

Asin.     O  holde,  most  pittifull  Captaine,  holde. 

Hor.  Holde,  Capten,  tis  knowne  that  Horace  is  valliant,  &  a 
man  of  the  sword. 

Tuc.  A  gentleman  or  an  honest  cittizen  shall  not  sit  in  your 
pennie-bench  theaters,  with  his  squirrell  by  his  side  cracking 
nuttes,  nor  sneake  into  a  taverne  with  his  mermaid,  but  he  shall 
be  satyr'd,  and  epigram'd  upon,  and  his  humour  must  run  upo'th 
stage:  you'll  ha  Every  Gentleman  in  's  humour,  and  Every  Gentle 
man  out  on  's  humour:  wee  that  are  heades  of  legions  and  bandes, 
and  feare  none  but  these  same  shoulder-clappers,  shall  feare  you, 
you  serpentine  rascall. 

•Hor.     Honour'd  Capten — 

Tuc.  Art  not  famous  enough  yet,  my  mad  Horastratus,  for 
killing  a  player,  but  thou  must  eate  men  alive?  thy  friends? 
Sirra  wilde-man,  thy  patrons?  thou  Anthropophagite,  thy 
Mecaenasses?  (IV,  ii,  65-87.) 

*  *         *         * 

Tuc.  .  .  .  Tis  thy  fashion  to  flirt  inke  in  everie  mans  face, 
and  then  to  craule  into  his  bosome,  and  damne  thy  selfe  to  wip't 
off  agen,  yet  to  give  out  abroad,  that  hee  was  glad  to  come  to 
composition  with  thee:  I  know,  Monsieur  Machiavell,  tis  one  a 
thy  rules;  My  long-heel'd  troglodite,  I  could  make  thine  eares 
burne  now,  by  dropping  into  them  all  those  hot  oathes,  to  which 
thy  selfe  gav'st  voluntarie  fire,  (whe  thou  wast  the  man  in  the 
moone)  that  thou  wouldst  never  squib  out  any  new  salt-peter 
jestes  against  honest  Tucca,  nor  those  maligotasters,  his  poet 
asters;  I  could  Cinocephalus,  but  I  will  not,  yet  thou  knowst 


22  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

thou  hast  broke  those  oathes  in  print,  my  excellent  infernall. 

.  Thou  'It  shoote  thy  quilles  at  mee  when  my  terrible  backe  's 

turn'd  for  all  this,  wilt  not  porcupine?  and  bring  me  &  my 

Heliconistes  into  thy  dialogues  to  make  us  talke  madlie,  wut  not 

Lucian?     (IV,  ii,  101-31.) 

*  *         *         * 

Dicache.  That  same  Horace,  me  thinkes,  has  the  most  un 
godly  face,  by  my  fan;  it  lookes,  for  all  the  world,  like  a  rotten 
russet  apple  when  tis  bruiz'd:  its  better  then  a  spoonefull  of 
sinamon  water  next  my  heart,  for  me  to  heare  him  speake;  hee 
soundes  it  so  i'  th'  nose,  and  talkes  and  randes  for  all  the  world 
like  the  poore  fellow  under  Ludgate :  oh  fye  upon  him ! 

Min[iver}.  By  my  troth,  sweet  ladies,  it's  cake  and  pudding 
to  me  to  see  his  face  make  faces  when  hee  reades  his  songs  and 
sonnets. 

Hor.     He  face  some  of  you  for  this  when  you  shall  not  budge. 

Tuc.     Its  the  stinckingst  dung-farmer — foh  upon  him ! 

Sir  Vaughan.  Foh?  oundes,  you  make  him  urse  than  old 
herring:  foh?  by  Sesu,  I  thinke  he's  as  tidy  and  as  tall  a  poet  as 
ever  drew  out  a  long  verse. 

Tuc.  The  best  verse  that  ever  I  knew  him  hacke  out  was  his 
white  neck-verse.  Noble  Ap  Rees,  thou  wouldst  scorne  to  laye 
thy  lippes  to  his  commendations,  and  thou  smeldst  him  out  as  I 
doe:  hee  calles  thee  the  burning  Knight  of  the  Salamander.  .  .  . 

Cris.  Come,  Tucca,  come,  no  more;  the  man's  wel  knowne, 
thou  needst  not  paint  him:  whom  does  he  not  wrong? 

Tuc.  Mary,  himselfe,  the  uglie  Pope  Boniface  pardons  him- 
selfe,  and  therefore  my  judgement  is  that  presently  he  bee  had 
from  hence  to  his  place  of  execution,  and  there  bee  stab'd,  stab'd, 
stab'd.  (IV,  iii,  100-54.) 

*  *         *         * 

Tuc.  .  .  .  Feele  my  weapon.  ...  As  blunt  as  the  top  of 
Poules;  tis  not  like  thy  aloe,  cicatrine  tongue,  bitter;  no  tis  no 
stabber,  but  like  thy  goodly  and  glorious  nose,  blunt,  blunt, 
blunt:  dost  roare  bulchin?  dost  roare?  th'ast  a  good  rouncivall 
voice  to  cry  lanthorne  &  candlelight. 

Sir    Vaughan.     Two   urds,    Horace,   about   your   eares:   how 


TO   BEN   JONSON  23 

chance  it  passes  that  you  bid  God  boygh  to  an  honest  trade  of 
building  symneys  and  laying  downe  brickes,  for  a  worse  handi- 
crafthes,  to  make  nothing  but  railes;  your  muse  leanes  upon 
nothing  but  filthy  rotten  railes,  such  as  stand  on  Poules  head, 
how  chance?  (IV,  iii,  181-98.) 

*  *         *         * 

Tuc.  .  .  .  Dost  stampe?  thou  thinkst  th'ast  morter  under 
thy  feete,  dost?  (IV,  iii,  211-12.) 

*  *         *         * 

Hor.     Why  would  you  make  me  thus  the  ball  of  scorne? 

Tuc.  He  tell  thee  why,  because  th'ast  entred  actions  of 
assault  and  battery  against  a  companie  of  honourable  and 
worshipfull  fathers  of  the  law:  you  wrangling  rascall,  law  is  one 
of  the  pillers  ath  land,  and  if  thou  beest  bound  too  't  (as  I  hope 
thou  shalt  bee)  thou't  proove  a  skip-jacke,  thou't  be  whipt. 
He  tell  thee  why,  because  thy  sputtering  chappes  yelpe  that 
arrogance,  and  impudence,  and  ignoraunce  are  the  essential 
parts  of  a  courtier.  ...  He  tell  thee  why,  because  thou  cryest 
ptrooh  at  worshipfull  cittizens,  and  cal'st  them  flat-caps,  cuck 
olds,  and  banckrupts,  and  modest  and  vertuous  wives  punckes  & 
cockatrices.  He  tell  thee  why,  because  th'ast  arraigned  two 
poets  against  all  lawe  and  conscience;  and  not  content  with  that, 
hast  turn'd  them  amongst  a  company  of  horrible  blacke  fryers. 
.  .  .  Thou  art  the  true  arraign'd  poet,  and  shouldst  have  been 
hang'd,  but  for  one  of  these  part- takers,  these  charitable  copper- 
lac'd  Christians,  that  fetcht  thee  out  of  purgatory  (players  I 
meane)  theaterians,  pouch-mouth,  stage-walkers;  for  this,  poet, 
for  this,  thou  must  lye  with  these  foure  wenches,  in  that  blancket, 
for  this — 

Hor.     What  could  I  doe,  out  of  a  just  revenge, 
But  bring  them  to  the  stage?  they  envy  me 
Because  I  holde  more  worthy  company. 

Dem.     Good  Horace,  no;  my  cheekes  doe  blush  for  thine, 
As  often  as  thou  speakst  so.     Where  one  true 
And  nobly-vertuous  spirit,  for  thy  best  part 
Loves  thee,  I  wish  one  ten,  even  from  my  heart. 
I  make  account  I  put  up  as  deepe  share 


24  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

In  any  good  mans  love,  which  thy  worth  earnes, 
As  thou  thy  selfe.     We  envy  not  to  see 
Thy  friends  with  bayes  to  crowne  thy  poesie. 
No,  heere  the  gall  lyes,  we  that  know  what  stuffe 
Thy  verie  heart  is  made  of,  know  the  stalke 
On  which  thy  learning  growes,  and  can  give  life 
To  thy  (once  dying)  basenes,  yet  must  we 
Dance  antickes  on  your  paper. 

Hor.  Fannius — 

Cris.     This  makes  us  angry,  but  not  envious. 
No,  were  thy  warpt  soule  put  in  a  new  molde, 
Ide  weare  thee  as  a  jewel  set  in  golde. 

Sir  Vaughan.  And  jewels,  Master  Horace,  must  be  hang'd 
you  know.  .  .  . 

Tuc.  1st  not  better  be  out  at  elbowes,  then  to  bee  a  bond 
slave,  and  to  goe  all  in  parchment  as  thou  dost? 

Hor.     Parchment,  Captaine?  tis  Perpetuana  I  assure  you. 

Tuc.  My  perpetuall  pantaloone,  true,  but  tis  waxt  over; 
th'art  made  out  of  wax;  thou  must  answere  for  this  one  day; 
thy  muse  is  a  hagler,  and  weares  cloathes  upon  best-be-trust: 
th'art  great  in  some  bodies  books  for  this,  thou  knowst  where; 
thou  wouldst  bee  out  at  elbowes,  and  out  at  heeles  too,  but  that 
thou  layest  about  thee  with  a  bill  for  this,  a  bill — 

Hor.     I  confesse,  Capten,  I  followed  this  suite  hard.  .  .  . 

Sir  Vaughan.  ...  I  have  put  upon  my  heade  a  fine  device 
to  make  you  laugh;  tis  not  your  fooles  cap,  Master  Horace, 
which  you  cover'd  your  poetasters  ijn,  but  a  fine  tricke,  ha,  ha, 
is  jumbling  in  my  braine.  .  .  .  To  conclude,  tis  after  this 
manners,  because  Ma.  Horace  is  ambition,  and  does  conspire  to 
bee  more  hye  and  tall  as  God  a  mightie  made  him,  wee '11  carry 
his  terrible  person  to  court,  and  there  before  his  Masestie  dub, 
or  what  you  call  it,  dip  his  muse  in  some  licour,  and  christen 
him,  or  dye  him  into  collours  of  a  poet.  (IV,  iii,  225-323.) 
*  *  *  * 

Cris.     My  Leige,  to  wed  a  comical!  event 
To  presupposed  tragicke  argument, 
Vouchsafe  to  exercise  your  eyes,  and  see 
A  humorous  dreadfull  poet  take  degree. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  25 

King.     Dreadfull,  in  his  proportion,  or  his  pen? 

Cris.  In  both,  he  calles  himselfe  the  whip  of  men.  .  .  . 
Demetrius, 

Call  in  that  selfe-creating  Horace,  bring 
Him  and  his  shaddow  foorth.  .  .  . 

Enter  Tucca,  his  boy  after  him  with  two  pictures  under  his 
cloake,  and  a  wreath  of  nettles:  Horace  and  Bubo  puVd  in 
by  th'  homes  bound  both  like  Satyres,  .  .  . 

Tuc.  So,  tug,  tug,  pull  the  mad  bull  in  by'th  homes:  so, 
baite  one  at  that  stake,  my  place-mouth  yelpers,  and  one  at  that 
stake,  Gurnets-head.  .  .  . 

Sir  Vaughan.  Goe  too,  I  pray,  Captaine  Tucca,  give  us  all- 
leave  to  doe  our  busines  before  the  King. 

Tuc.  With  all  my  heart,  shi,  shi,  shi  shake  that  Beare-whelp 
when  thou  wut. 

Sir  Vaughan.  Horace  and  Bubo,  pray  send  an  answere  into 
his  Masesties  eares,  why  you  goe  thus  in  Ovids  Morter-Morphesis 
and  strange  fashions  of  apparrell.  .  .  . 

Hor.     I  did  it  to  retyre  me  from  the  world, 
And  turne  my  Muse  into  a  Timonist, 
Loathing  the  general  leprozie  of  sinne, 
Which  like  a  plague  runs  through  the  soules  of  men : 
I  did  it  but  to— 

Tuc.  But  to  bite  every  Motley-head  vice  by'th  nose;  you 
did  it,  ningle,  to  play  the  bug-beare  satyre,  &  make  a  campe 
royall  of  fashion-mongers  quake  at  your  paper  bullets:  you 
nastie  tortois,  you  and  your  itchy  poetry  breake  out  like  Christ 
mas,  but  once  a  yeare,  and  then  you  keepe  a  Revelling,  &  Araign- 
ing,  &  a  scratching  of  mens  faces,  as  tho  you  were  Tyber,  the 
long-tail'd  Prince  of  Rattes,  doe  you?  .  .  . 

Cris.     Under  controule  of  my  dreade  Soveraigne, 
We  are  thy  Judges;  thou  that  didst  Arraigne, 
Art  now  prepar'd  for  condemnation? 
Should  I  but  bid  thy  muse  stand  to  the  barre, 
Thy  selfe  against  her  wouldst  give  evidence, 
For  flat  rebellion  gains*  the  sacred  lawes 
Of  divine  Poesie:  heerein  most  she  mist, 


26  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thy  pride  and  scorne  made  her  turne  Saterist, 
And  not  her  love  to  vertue  (as  thou  preachest). 
Or,  should  we  minister  strong  pilles  to  thee, 
What  lumpes  of  hard  and  indigested  stuffe, 
Of  bitter  satirisme,  of  arrogance, 
Of  selfe-love,  of  detraction,  of  a  blacke 
And  stinking  insolence,  should  we  fetch  up? 
But  none  of  these;  we  give  thee  what's  more  fit: 
With  stinging  nettles  crowne  his  stinging  wit. 

Tuc.  Wei  said,  my  poeticall  huckster,  now  he's  in  thy  hand 
ling,  rate  him,  doe,  rate  him  well. 

Hor.  O  I  beseech  your  Majesty,  rather  then  thus  to  be  netled, 
He  ha  my  satyres  coate  pull'd  over  mine  eares,  and  bee  turn'd 
out  a  the  nine  muses  service.  .  .  . 

Sir  Vaughan.  Flea  off  this  hairie  skin,  M.  Horace,  so,  so,  so, 
untrusse,  untrusse. 

Tuc.     His  poeticall  wreath,  my  dapper  puncke-fetcher. 

Hor.     Ooh— 

Tuc.  Nay  your  oohs,  nor  your  Callinoes  cannot  serve  your 
turne:  your  tongue  you  know  is  full  of  blisters  with  rayling, 
your  face  full  of  pockey-holes  and  pimples  with  your  fierie 
inventions,  and  therefore  to  preserve  your  head  from  aking,  this 
biggin  is  yours, — 

Sir  Vaughan.  Nay,  by  Sesu,  you  shall  bee  a  poet,  though 
not  lawrefyed,  yet  nettlefyed,  so. 

Tuc.  Sirra  stincker,  thou'rt  but  untruss'd  now:  I  owe  thee  a 
whipping  still,  and  He  pay  it:  ...  it  shall  not  bee  the  Whipping 
oC  th  Satyre,  nor  the  Whipping  of  the  blinde-Beafe,  but  of  a 
counterfeit  Jugler,  that  steales  the  name  of  Horace. 

King.     How?  counterfeit?  does  hee  usurpe  that  name? 

Sir  Vaughan.  Yes  indeede,  ant  please  your  Grace,  he  does 
sup  up  that  abhominable  name. 

Tuc.  Hee  does,  O  King  Cambises,  hee  does:  thou  hast  no 
part  of  Horace  in  thee  but  's  name  and  his  damnable  vices: 
thou  hast  such  a  terrible  mouth,  that  thy  beard's  afraide  to 
peepe  out:  but,  looke  heere,  you  staring^ Leviathan,  heere's  the 
sweete  visage  of  Horace;  looke,  perboylde-face,  looke:  Horace 


TO   BEN  JONSON  27 

had  a  trim  long-beard,  and  a  reasonable  good  face  for  a  poet, 
(as  faces  goe  now-a-dayes) :  Horace  did  not  skrue  and  wriggle 
himselfe  into  great  mens  famyliarity ,  (inpudentlie)  as  thou  doost : 
nor  weare  the  badge  of  gentlemens  company,  as  thou  doost  thy 
taffetie  sleeves,  tactkt  too  onely  with  some  pointes  of  profit:  no, 
Horace  had  not  his  face  puncht  full  of  oylet-holes,  like  the  cover 
of  a  warming-pan:  Horace  lov'd  poets  well,  and  gave  coxcombes 
to  none  but  fooles,  but  thou  lov'st  none,  neither  wisemen  nor 
fooles,  but  thy  selfe:  Horace  was  a  goodly  corpulent  gentleman, 
and  not  so  leane  a  hollow-cheekt  scrag  as  thou  art:  no,  heere's 
thee  coppy  of  thy  countenance,  by  this  will  I  learne  to  make  a 
number  of  villanous  faces  more,  and  to  looke  scurvily  upon'th 
world,  as  thou  dost. 

Cris.     Sir  Vaughan  will  you  minister  their  oath?  .  .  . 

Sir  Vaughan.  Now,  Master  Horace,  you  must  be  a  more 
horrible  swearer,  for  your  oath  must  be  (like  your  wittes)  of 
many  collours,  and,  like  a  brokers  booke,  of  many  parcels. 

Tuc.     Read,  read  th'inventory  of  his  oath.  .  .  . 

Sir  Vaughan.  Inprimis,  you  shall  sweare  by  Phoebus  and 
the  halfe  a  score  muses  lacking  one,  not  to  sweare  to  hang  your 
selfe,  if  you  thought  any  man,  ooman  or  silde,  could  write  playes 
and  rimes,  as  well-favour'd  ones  as  your  selfe.  .  .  .  You  shall 
sweare  not  to  bumbast  out  a  new  play,  with  the  olde  lynings  of 
jestes,  stolne  from  the  Temples  Revels.  .  .  .  Moreover,  you 
shall  not  sit  in  a  gallery,  when  your  comedies  and  enterludes 
have  entred  their  actions,  and  there  make  vile  and  bad  faces  at 
everie  lyne,  to  make  sentlemen  have  an  eye  to  you,  and  to  make 
players  afraide  to  take  your  part.  .  .  .  Besides,  you  must  for- 
sweare  to  venter  on  the  stage,  when  your  play  is  ended,  and  to 
exchange  curtezies  and  complements  with  gallants  in  the  lordes 
roomes,  to  make  all  the  house  rise  up  in  armes,  and  to  cry  that's 
Horace,  that's  he,  that's  he,  that's  he,  that  pennes  and  purges  hu 
mours  and  diseases.  .  .  .  Secondly,  when  you  bid  all  your  friends 
to  the  marriage  of  a  poore  couple,  that  is  to  say,  your  Wits  and 
necessities,  alias  dictus,  to  the  rifling  of  your  Muse,  alias,  your 
Muses  up-sitting,  alias,  a  Poets  Whitson-Ale,  you  shall  sweare 
that  within  three  dayes  after,  you  shall  not  abroad,  in  booke- 


28  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

binders  shops,  brag  that  your  Vize-royes  or  Tributorie  Kings, 
have  done  homage  to  you,  or  paide  quarterage.  .  .  .  Moreover 
and  Inprimis,  when  a  knight  or  sentlemen  of  urship,  does  give 
you  his  passe-port,  to  travaile  in  and  out  to  his  company,  and 
gives  you  money  for  Gods  sake,  I  trust  in  Sesu,  you  will  sweare 
(tooth  and  nayle)  not  to  make  scalde  and  wry-mouth  jestes 
upon  his  knight-hood,  will  you  not? 

Hor.     I  never  did  it,  by  Parnassus. 

Tuc.  Wut  sweare  by  Parnassus,  and  lye  too,  Doctor  Doddi- 
pol? 

Sir  Vaughan.  Thirdly,  and  last  of  all,  saving  one,  when  your 
playes  are  misse-likt  at  court,  you  shall  not  crye  mew  like  a 
pusse-cat,  and  say  you  are  glad  you  write  out  the  courtiers 
element. 

Tuc.     Let  the  element  alone,  tis  out  a  thy  reach. 

Sir  Vaughan.  In  brieflynes,  when  you  sup  in  tavernes  amongst 
your  betters,  you  shall  sweare  not  to  dippe  your  manners  in  too 
much  sawce,  nor  at  table  to  fling  epigrams,  embleames,  or  play- 
speeches  about  you  (lyke  hayle-stones)  to  keepe  you  out  of  the 
terrible  daunger  of  the  shot,  upon  payne  to  sit  at  the  upper  ende 
of  the  table,  a'th  left  hand  of  Carlo  Buffon.  Sweare  all  this,  by 
Apollo  and  the  eight  or  nine  muses. 

Hor.  By  Apollo,  Helicon,  the  muses  (who  march  three  and 
three  in  a  rancke)  and  by  all  that  belongs  to  Pernassus,  I  sweare 
all  this.  .  .  . 

King.     ...  He  whose  pen 

Drawes  both  corrupt  and  cleare  bloud  from  all  men, 
Careles  what  veine  he  prickes,  let  him  not  rave 
When  his  owne  sides  are  strucke.     Blowes  blowes  doe  crave. 
(V,  ii,  112-403.) 


EPILOGUS. 

Tucca.  ...  I  recant,  beare  witnes  all  you  gentle-folkes  (that 
walke  i'th  galleries)  I  recant  the  opinions  which  I  helde  of 
courtiers,  ladies,  &  cittizens,  when  once  (in  an  assembly  of 
friers)  I  railde  upon  them.  That  hereticall  libertine  Horace, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  29 

taught  me  so  to  mouth  it.  Besides,  twas  when  stiffe  Tucca  was 
a  boy:  twas  not  Tucca  that  railde  and  roar'd  then,  but  the  Devill 
&  his  angels.  .  .  .  Are  you  adviz'd  what  you  doe  when  you 
hisse?  you  blowe  away  Horaces  revenge,  but  if  you  set  your 
hands  and  scales  to  this,  Horace  will  write  against  it,  and  you 
may  have  more  sport.  He  shall  not  loose  his  labour,  he  shall 
not  turne  his  blanke  verses  into  waste  paper.  No,  my  poetasters 
will  not  laugh  at  him,  but  will  untrusse  him  agen,  and  agen, 
and  agen. 

[Satiromastix,  or  The  Untrussing  of  the  Humorous  Poet.  This  play, 
the  climax  of  the  Poetomachia,  or  war  between  Jonson  and  Marston 
and  Dekker,  was  written  in  reply  to  Jonson's  Poetaster,  in  which 
he  represented  himself  as  Horace.  The  passages  quoted  above  are 
designed  merely  as  illustrations;  one  should  read  the  play  in  its 
entirety.  The  line  numbers  refer  to  the  edition  by  Josiah  H. 
Penniman,  Belles-Lettres  Series,  1913.] 

W.  I.,  1601. 
TO  THE  VAYNE-GLORIOVS, 

the  Satyrist,  Epigrammatist,  and  Humorist. 
.  .  .  Now  by  your  leave,  Monsieur  Humorist  [i.  e.  Jonson], 
you  that  talke  of  mens  humours  and  dispositions  ...  I  con 
sider  of  you,  as  of  a  younger  brother:  you  wanted  this  same 
muleis  nimittm,  and  nulli  satis,  coyne  (a  goodyere  of  it)  and 
therefore  opus  &  usus  put  you  to  such  a  pinch,  that  you  made 
sale  of  your  Humours  to  the  Theater,  and  there  plaid  Pee  boh 
with  the  people  in  your  humour,  then  out  of  your  humour.  I 
do  not  blame  you  for  this:  for  though  you  were  guilty  of  many 
other  things,  yet  I  dare  say,  you  were  altogether  without  guilt 
at  that  time,  notwithstanding  I  suppose  you  would  have  writ 
ten  for  love,  and  not  for  money:  but  I  see  you  are  one  of  those 
that  if  a  man  can  finde  in  his  purse  to  give  them  presently, 
they  can  finde  in  their  hearts  to  love  him  everlastingly;  for 
now-adaies  Aes  in  presenti  perfectum  format  amor  em.  But  it 
makes  the  lesse  matter,  because  I  know  but  few  but  are  corivals 
with  you  in  the  love  of  silver.  .  .  . 

*     *     *     * 

It  seemes  your  brother  Satyre,  and  ye  twayne, 
Plotted  three  wayes  to  put  the  Divell  downe ; 
One  should  outrayle  him  by  invective  vaine, 


30  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

One  all  to  flout  him  like  a  countrey  clowne; 
And  one  in  action,  on  a  stage  out-face, 
And  play  upon  him  to  his  great  disgrace. 

You  Humorist,  if  it  be  true  I  heare, 
An  action  thus  against  the  Divell  brought,1 
Sending  your  humours  to  each  Theater, 
To  serve  the  writ  that  ye  had  gotten  out. 
That  Mad-cap2  yet  superiour  praise  doth  win, 
Who,  out  of  hope,  even  casts  his  cap  at  sin. 

1  Against  the  booke  of  Humours. 
*Pasquils  Mad-cap. 

[The  Whipping  of  the  Satyre.  Imprinted  at  London,  for  John  Flasket. 
1 60 1.  The  pamphlet  is  directed  against  John  Marston,  Nicholas 
Breton,  and  Ben  Jonson.  The  passages  cited  above  are  merely  illus 
trative;  the  entire  volume  should  be  consulted.  Dr.  F.  E.  Fiske  is 
now  preparing  a  reprint  of  this  and  other  related  pamphlets.  A  reply 
to  The  Whipping  of  the  Satyre  was  issued  in  1601  by  an  anonymous 
writer,  entitled  The  Whipper  of  the  Satire,  his  Penancz  in  a  White 
.  Sheet,  but  this  work,  mainly  a  defense  of  Marston,  contains  no  clear 
allusion  to  Jonson.] 

Nicholas  Breton,  1601. 

Maye  it  please  you  to  understand,  that  it  was  my  happe  of 
late,  passing  through  Paules  Church  yarde,  to  looke  upon 
certaine  pieces  of  Poetrye,  where  I  found  (that  it  greeues  me  to 
speake  of)  one  writer  so  strangely  inueigh  against  another,  that 
many  shallow  wits  stoode  and  laught  at  their  follies.  Now, 
findinge  their  labours  so  toucht  with  ill  tearms,  as  befitted  not  the 
learned  to  lay  open;  I  thought  good,  having  little  to  doe,  to 
write  unto  all  such  writers,  as  take  pleasure  to  see  their  wits 
plaie  with  the  world,  that  they  will  henceforth,  before  they  fall 
to  worke,  haue  in  minde  this  good  prouerbe:  Play  with  me; 
but  hurt  me  not:  and  iest  with  me;  but  disgrace  me  not;  Least  that 
the  world  this  iest  do  kindly  smother,  Why  should  one  foole  be 
angry  with  an  other?  .  .  . 


TO   BEN  JONSON  31 

Tis  strange  to  see  the  humors  of  these  daies : 
How  first  the  Satyre  bites  at  imperfectios : 
The  Epigrammist  in  his  quips  displaies 
A  wicked  course  in  shadowes  of  corrections : 
The  Humorist  hee  strictly  makes  collections 
Of  loth'd  behauiours  both  in  youthe  and  age: 
And  makes  them  plaie  their  parts  upon  a  stage. 

An  other  Madcappe  in  a  merry  fit, 
For  lacke  of  witte  did  cast  his  cappe  at  sinne: 
And  for  his  labour  was  well  tould  of  it, 
For  too  much  playing  on  that  merry  pinne : 
For  that  all  fishes  are  not  of  one  finne : 

And  they  that  are  of  cholerick  complections, 
Loue  not  too  plain  to  reade  their  imperfections. 

Now  comes  another  with  a  new  founde  vaine: 
And  onely  falls  to  reprehensions : 
Who  in  a  kind  of  scoffing  chiding  straine, 
Bringes  out  I  knowe  not  what  in  his  inuentions : 
But  I  will  ghesse  the  best  of  his  intencions : 
Hee  would  that  all  were  well,  and  so  would  I: 
Fooles  shuld  not  too  much  shew  their  foolery. 

And  would  to  God  it  had  ben  so  in  deed, 
The  Satyres  teeth  had  neuer  bitten  so : 
The  Epigrammist  had  not  had  a  seede 
Of  wicked  weedes,  among  his  herbes  to  sowe, 
Nor  one  mans  humor  did  not  others  showe, 

Nor  Madcap  had  not  showen  his  madness  such, 
And  that  the  whipper  had  not  ierkt  so  much. 

*         *         *         * 

No,  poets,  no:  I  write  to  yee  in  loue, 
Let  not  the  world  haue  cause  to  laugh  at  us : 
Let  us  our  mindes  from  such  ill  meanes  remoue, 
As  makes  good  spirits  for  to  fall  out  thus  : 
Let  us  our  causes  with  more  care  discusse : 

Not  bite,  nor  claw,  nor  scoffe,  nor  check,  nor  chide: 
But  eche  mend  one,  and  ware  the  fall  of  pride. 


32  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

But,  if  you  could,  you  should  doe  better  much, 

To  bend  your  studie  to  a  better  end, 

And  neither  one  nor  other  seeme  to  tuch : 

But  in  such  sorte,  as  may  beseeme  a  friend: 

And  doe  no  more  your  spirits  idly  spend 

With  ierking,  biting,  skoffing  and  such  humors 
As  fill  the  world  too  full  of  wicked  rumors. 

*  *         *         * 

Let  all  good  wits,  if  any  good  there  be; 
Leaue  trussing,  and  untrussing  of  their  points, 
And  heare  thus  much  (although  not  learne)  of  me ; 
The  spirits,  that  the  Oyle  of  Grace  annoy ntes, 
Will  keepe  their  senses  in  those  sacred  ioynts, 

That  each  true-learned,  Christian-harted  brother 

Will  be  unwilling  to  offend  another. 

[No  Whippinge,  Nor  Trippinge:  But  a  Kinde  Friendly  Snippinge,  ed. 
Charles  Edmonds,  in  the  I  sham  Reprints,  1895.] 

Anonymous,  1601. 
Beniamin  lohnson. 

Iud[icio\.  The  wittiest  fellow  of  a  Bricklayer  in  England. 
Ing[enioso\.  A  meere  Empyrick,  one  that  getts  what  he  hath 
by  obseruation,  and  makes  onely  nature  priuy  to  what  he  indites, 
so  slow  an  Inuentor  that  he  were  better  betake  himselfe  to  his 
old  trade  of  Bricklaying,  a  bould  whorson,  as  confident  now  in 
making  a  booke,  as  he  was  in  times  past  in  laying  of  a  brick. 

(P.  87.) 

*  *         *         * 

Kemp.  Few  of  the  university  pen  plaies  well,  they  smell  too 
much  of  that  writer  Quid,  and  that  writer  Metamorphosis,  and 
talke  too  much  of  Proserpina  &  Juppiter.  Why  heres  our 
fellow  Shakespeare  puts  them  all  downe,  I  and  Ben  lonson  too. 
O  that  Ben  lonson  is  a  pestilent  fellow,  he  brought  up  Horace 
giuing  the  Poets  a  pill,  but  our  fellow  Shakespeare  hath  giuen 
him  a  purge  that  made  him  beray  his  credit.  (P.  138.) 

[The  Returnefrom  Pernassus,  Part  II,  ed.  W.  D.  Macray,  1886.  The 
play,  though  probably  written  in  1601,  was  apparently  not  acted 
until  1602.  It  was  printed  in  1606.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  33 

Title-page,  1602. 

Poetaster  or  The  Arraignment:  As  it  hath  beene  sundry 
times  privately  acted  in  the  Blacke  Friers,  by  the  children  of  her 
Maiesties  Chappell.  Composed,  by  Ben.  lohnson.  .  .  .  London, 
printed  for  M[athew]  L[ownes],  .  .  .  1602. 

'  Philip  Henslowe,  1602. 

Lent  unto  bengemy  Johnsone  at  the 
a  poyntment  of  E  Alleyn  &  wm  birde 
the  22  of  June  1602  in  earneste  of  a 
Boocke  called  Richard  crockbacke  &  for 
new  adicyons  for  Jeronymo  the  some  of. 

[Henslowe1  s  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1904,  p.  168.  This  is  the  second 
payment  to  Jonson  for  additions  to  The  Spanish  Tragedy.} 

Anonymous,  1602. 

Pha[ntastes].  ...  That  fellow  in  the  bays,  methinks  I  should 
have  known  him;  O,  'tis  Comedus,  'tis  so;  but  he  has  become 
nowadays  something  humorous,  and  too-too  satirical  up  and 
down,  like  his  great  grandfather  Aristophanes. 

[Lingua,  1607;  Hazlitt's  ed.  of  Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays,  1874,  ix, 
416.  The  passage  quoted  seems  to  be  directed  at  Jonson,  whose 
satirical  comedies  offended  many  contemporary  writers.] 

John  Manningham,  1603. 

12  Feb.  1602. 

Ben  Johnson,  the  poet,  nowe  lives  upon  one  Townesend,  and 
scornes  the  world.  (Tho:  Overbury.) 

[Diary  of  John  Manningham,  ed.  J.  C.  Bruce,  Camden  Society,  1868, 
p.  130.] 

William  Camden,  1603. 

These  may  suffice  for  some  Poeticall  descriptions  of  our  ancient 
Poets;  if  I  would  come  to  our  time,  what  a  world  could  I  present 
to  you  out  of  Sir  Philipp  Sidney,  Ed.  Spencer,  Samuel  Daniel, 
Hugo  Holland,  Ben.  Johnson,  Th.  Campion,  Mich.  Drayton, 
George  Chapman,  lohn  Marston,  William  Shakespeare,  and  other 
most  pregnant  witts  of  these  our  times,  whom  succeeding  ages 
may  justly  admire. 

[Remaines  concerning  Britaine,  1605.     Poems,  p.  8.] 


34 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Donne,  1603. 

To  Ben  Jonson,  p  Novembris,  1603. 
If  great  men  wrong  me,  I  will  spare  myself; 
If  mean  I  will  spare  them.     I  know  the  pelf 
Which  is  ill-got  the  owner  doth  upbraid ; 
It  may  corrupt  a  judge,  make  me  afraid, 
And  a  jury;   but  'twill  revenge  in  this, 
That,  though  himself  be  judge,  he  guilty  is. 
What  care  I  though  of  weakness  men  tax  me  ? 
I  had  rather  sufferer  than  doer  be. 
That  I  did  trust  it  was  my  nature's  praise, 
For  breach  of  word  I  knew  but  as  a  phrase. 
That  judgment  is,  that  surely  can  comprise 
The  world  in  precepts,  most  happy  and  most  wise. 
What  though?     Though  less,  yet  some  of  both  have  we, 
Who  have  learn 'd  it  by  use  and  misery. 
Poor  I,  whom  every  petty  cross  doth  trouble, 
Who  apprehend  each  hurt  that's  done  me,  double, 
Am  of  this,  though  it  should  sink  me,  careless; 
It  would  but  force  me  to  a  stricter  goodness. 
They  have  great  gain  of  me,  who  gain  do  win, 
If  such  gain  be  not  loss,  from  every  sin. 
The  standing  of  great  men's  lives  would  afford 
A  pretty  sum,  if  God  would  sell  His  word. 
He  cannot;   they  can  theirs,  and  break  them  too; 
How  unlike  they  are  that  they're  liken'd  to. 
Yet  I  conclude,  they  are  amidst  my  evils; 
If  good,  like  Gods;  the  naught  are  so  like  devils. 
[Poems  of  John  Donne,  ed.  1635.] 

Henry  Chettle,  1603. 
Death  now  hath  seiz'd  her  in  his  icy  arms, 

That  sometime  was  the  sun  of  our  delight; 
And,  pitiless  of  any  after  harms, 

Hath  veil'd  her  glory  in  the  cloud  of  night: 
Nor  doth  one  poet  seek  her  name  to  raise, 
That  living,  hourly,  striv'd  to  sing  her  praise. 


TO   BEN   JONSON  35 

He  that  so  well  could  sing  the  fatal  strife 

Between  the  royal  Roses,  white  and  read, 
That  prais'd  so  oft  Eliza  in  her  life, 

His  muse  seems  now  to  die,  as  she  is  dead : 
Thou  sweetest  song-man  of  all  English  swains, 
Awake  for  shame !  honour  ensues  thy  pains. 

But  thou  alone  deserv'dst  not  to  be  blam'd: 

He  that  sung  forty  years  her  life  and  birth, 
And  is  by  English  Albions  so  much  fam'd, 
For  sweet  mixt  lays  of  majesty  and  mirth, 
Doth  of  her  loss  take  now  but  little  keep; 
Or  else  I  guess  he  cannot  sing,  but  weep. 

Neither  doth  Coryn,  full  of  worth  and  wit, 

That  finish'd  dead  Musseus'  gracious  song, 
With  grace  as  great,  and  words,  and  verse  as  fit, 
Chide  meagre  death  for  doing  virtue  wrong: 

He  doth  not  seek  with  songs  to  deck  her  hearse, 
Nor  make  her  name  live  in  his  lively  verse. 

Nor  does  our  English  Horace,  whose  steel  pen 

Can  draw  characters  which  will  never  die, 
Tell  her  bright  glories  unto  list'ning  men, 
Of  her  he  seems  to  have  no  memory: 
His  muse  another  path  desires  to  tread, 
True  satyrs  scourge  the  living,  leave  the  dead. 

[England's  Mourning  Garment;  worn  here  by  plain  Shepherds,  in  Memory 
of  their  sacred  Mistress,  Elizabeth;  Queen  of  Virtue,  while  she  lived; 
and  Theme  of  Sorrow,  being  dead.  1603;  reprinted  in  The  Harleian 
Miscellany,  1809,  Hi,  534.  In  the  last  stanza  Chettle  alludes  to 
Jonson.  During  the  course  of  the  poem  he  has  occasion  to  refer 
to  many  contemporary  poets.] 

Anonymous,  1603. 

You  Poets  all,  brave  Shakspeare,  Johnson,  Greene, 
Bestow  your  time  to  write  for  Englands  Queene. 
Lament,  lament,  lament  you  English  Peeres, 
Lament  your  losse  possest  so  many  yeeres. 


36  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Returne  your  songs  and  Sonnets  and  your  sayes: 
To  set  foorth  sweete  Elizabeth[a]' s  praise. 

[A  mourneful  Dittie,  entituled  Elizabeth's  losse,  together  with  a  welcome 
for  King  James.  In  the  Heber  Collection  of  Ballads  and  Broad 
sides.] 

I.  C.,  about  1604. 

Who'e're  will  go  unto  the  presse  may  see, 
The  hated  Fathers  of  vilde  balladrie : 
One  sings  in  his  base  note  the  River  Thames 
Shal  sound  the  famous  memory  of  noble  king  lames; 
Another  sayes  that  he  will,  to  his  death, 
Sing  the  renowned  worthinesse  of  sweet  Elizabeth, 
So  runnes  their  verse  in  such  disordered  straine, 
And  with  them  dare  great  majesty  prophane, 
Some  dare  to  this;  some  other  humbly  craves 
For  helpe  of  Spirits  in  their  sleeping  graves, 
As  he  that  calde  to  Shakespeare,  lohnson,  Greene, 
To  write  of  their  dead  noble  Queene ; 
But  he  that  made  the  Ballads  of  oh  hone, 
Did  wondrous  well  to  whet  the  buyer  on : 
These  fellowes  are  the  slaunderes  of  the  time, 
Make  ryming  hatefull  through  their  bastard  rime. 
But  were  I  made  a  judge  in  poetry, 
They  all  should  burne  for  their  vilde  heresie. 

[Epigrames.     Served  out  in  52  severall  Dishes  for  every  man  to  tast  with 
out  surfeiting,  n.  d.,  Epigram  12.] 

Sir  John  Roe,  1604. 

To  Ben.  lohnson,  6  Ian.  1603. 
The  State  and  mens  affaires  are  the  best.playes 
Next  yours;  'Tis  not  more  nor  lesse  than  due  praise. 
Write,  but  touch  not  the  much  descending  race 
Of  Lords  houses,  so  settled  in  worths  place, 
As  but  themselves  none  thinke  them  usurpers. 
It  is  no  fault  in  thee  to  suffer  theirs. 
If  the  Queene  Masque,  or  King  a  hunting  goe, 
Though  all  the  Court  follow,  Let  them.     We  know 
Like  them  in  goodnesse  that  Court  ne'r  will  be, 
For  that  were  vertue,  and  not  flatterie. 
Forget  we  were  thrust  out;  It  is  but  thus, 


TO   BEN   JONSON  37 

God  threatens  Kings,  Kings  Lords,  as  Lords  doe  us. 
Judge  of  strangers,  Trust  and  believe  your  friend, 
And  so  me;  And  when  I  true  friendship  end, 
With  guilty  conscience  let  me  be  worse  stonge, 
Then  with  Pophams  sentence  theeves,  or  Cookes  tongue 
Traitors  are.     Friends  are  our  selves.     This  I  thee  tell 
As  to  my  friend,  and  to  my  selfe  as  Counsell; 
Let  for  a  while  the  times  unthrifty  rout 
Coritemne  learning,  and  all  your  studies  flout. 
Let  them  scorne  Hell,  they  will  a  Sergeant  feare, 
More  then  wee  that;  ere  long  God  may  forbeare, 
But  Creditors  wilt  not.     Let  them  increase 

In  riot  and  excesse  as  their  meanes  cease; 
*         *         *         * 

Well,  let  all  passe,  and  trust  him  who  nor  cracks 
The  bruised  Reed,  nor  quencheth  smoaking  flaxe. 

[Although  these  verses  were  attributed  to  Donne  in  the  1699  edition  of 
his  poems,  the  real  author  is  revealed  in  Jonson's  Conversations 
with  William  Drummond:  "Sir  John  Roe  loved  him;  and  when 
they  two  were  ushered  by  my  Lord  Suffolk  from  a  Mask,  Roe 
wrote  a  moral  Bpistle  to  him  which  began,  That  next  to  playes,  the 
Court  and  the  State  were  the  best;  God  threatneth  Kings,  Kings 
Lords,  [as]  Lords  do  us."  The  masque  referred  to  was  probably  by 
Samuel  Daniel.  Cf.  the  entry  under  "Richard  Whitlock,  1654."] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1604. 

John  Smythick  l6'  ^bruarij 

Entred  for  his  copy  under  the  handes  of  master  Pasfeild 
and  the  wardens  A  booke  called  the  case  is  altered. 
How?  Aske  Dalio  and  Millo  provided  that  this  copie  be 
not  taken  from  my  other  to  the  hurt  of  another  mans 
book vjd 

Edward  Blunt  2  Novembris 

putt    over    to 

Thomas  Thorp 

6  Augusti  1605 

Entred  for  his  copy  under  th[e  hjandes  of  Master 
Pasfeild  and  the  Wardens  a  booke  called  the  tragedie  of 

Seianus  written  by  Beniamin  Johnson , vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  252,  272.] 


38  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Title-page,  1604. 

B.  JON:  his  part  of  King  James  his  Royall  and  Magnificent 
Entertainement  through  his  Honorable  Cittie  of  London. 
Thurseday  the  15.  of  March.  1603.  So  much  as  was  presented 
in  the  first  and  last  of  their  Triumphall  Arch's.  With  his  speach 
made  to  the  last  Presentation,  in  the  Strand,  erected  by  in 
habitants  of  the  Dutchy,  and  Westminster.  Also  a  briefe 
Panegyre  of  his  Majesties  first  and  well  auspicated  entrance  to 
his  high  Court  of  Parliament,  on  Monday,  the  19.  of  the  same 
Moneth.  With  other  Additions.  V.  S.  for  Edward  B  hunt,  1604. 

[An  interesting  description  of  this  pageant  will  be  found  in  Gilbert 
Dugdale's  The  Time  Triumphant,  1664;  see  An  English  Garner, 
Stuart  Tracts,  ed.  C.  H.  Firth,  'p.  77.] 

John  Marston,  1604. 

[Dedication.] 

BENIAMINO    JONSONIO, 

POETAE 

ELEGANTISSIMO, 
GRAVISSIMO, 

AMICO 

SUO,    CANDIDO   ET   CORDATO, 

JOHANNES   MARSTON, 

MUSARUM   ALUMNUS, 

ASPERAM   HANC    SUAM   THALIAM 

D.    D. 
***** 

Epilogue. 

Then  till  another's  happier  Muse  appears, 
Till  his  Thalia  feast  your  learned  ears, 
To  whose  desertful  lamps  pleased  Fates  impart 
Art  above  nature,  judgment  above  art, 
Receive  this  piece,  which  hope  nor  fear  yet  daunteth : 
He  that  knows  most  knows  most  how  much  he  wanteth. 

[The  Malcontent,  1604.  The  allusion  in  the  Epilogue  is  probably  to 
Jonson's  forthcoming  play,  Volpone.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  39 

Sir  Thomas  Edmonds,  1604. 

Letter  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  December  5,  1604. 

Our  Court  of  ladies  is  preparing  to  solemnize  the  Christmas 

with  a  gallant  mask  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Blackness]  which  doth 

cost  the  Exchequer  £3000.     Sir  Philip  Herbert's  marriage  will 

also  produce  another  mask  among  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen. 

[Edmund  Lodge,  Illustrations  of  British  History,  1838,  iii,  114.] 

John  Packer,  1604. 

Letter  to  Sir  Ralph  Winwood,  December  12,  1604. 
Now  Sir  for  Women's  News.  Wee  have  here  great  Preparation 
for  the  Queen's  Mask  [of  Blackness] ;  wherein  besides  her  Majesty 
will  be  eleven  Ladies,  Bedford,  Suffolk,  Susan  Vere,  Lady 
Dorothy  Rich,  a  Daughter  of  my  Lord  Chamberlaines,  Lady 
Walsingham,  Lady  Bevill,  and  some  other  which  I  have  for 
gotten  for  haste.  But  the  Lady  of  Northumberland  is  excused 
by  Sickness,  Lady  Hertford  by  the  Measles.  Lady  of  Notting 
ham  hath  the  Polypus  in  her  Nostril,  which  some  fear  must  be 
cut  off.  The  Lady  Hatton  would  feign  have  had  a  Part,  but 
some  unknown  reason  kept  her  out;  whereupon  she  is  gone  to 
her  House. 

[Winwood  State  Papers,  ii,  39.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1604. 

Letter  to  Sir  Ralph  Winwood,  December  18,  1604. 
.  .  .  Here  is  great  Provision  for  Cockpit,  to  entertaine  him 
[King  James]  at  home,  and  of  Masks  and  Revells  against  the 
Marriage  of  Sir  Phillip  Herbert  and  the  Lady  Susan  Vere,  which 
is  to  be  celebrated  on  St.  John's  Day.     The  Queen  hath  likewise 
a  great  Mask  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Blackness]  in  hand  against 
Twelfth-Tide,  for  which  there  was  3OOo£.  delivered  a  Month  ago. 
[Winwood  State  Papers,  1725,  ii,  41.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1604. 

Nicolo  Molin,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge  and 

Senate,  December  29  [O.S.  19],  1604. 

Her   Majesty   is   preparing   a   masque    [Jonson's    Masque   of 
Blackness]   which  will   cost   twenty-five   thousand  crowns.     At 


4o  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Court  they  are  studying  how  the  Ambassadors  can  be  present 
at  the  festival.  But  as  the  King  declines  to  make  any  decision 
as  to  precedence  between  France  and  Spain,  it  is  held  certain 
that  no  Ambassador  will  be  invited,  and  if  anyone  is  curious 
to  see  the  sight,  he  must  go  privately. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  x,  201.] 

The  Revells  Booke,  1605. 

1605 

On  Twelfe  Night  the  Queens  Matis  Maske  of  Moures  [Jonson's 
Masque  of  Blackness]  wh  Aleven  Laydies  of  honnor  to  accupayney 
her  matie  wch  cam  in  great  showes  of  devises  wch  thay  satt  in  wth 
exselent  musike. 

By  his  Maiie  plaiers.  The  8  of  January  A  play  cauled  Euery 
on  out  of  his  Umor. 

By  his  Maii3  plaiers.  On  Candelmas  night  A  playe  Euery 
one  in  his  Umor. 

[Peter  Cunningham,  Extracts  from  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court* 
1842,  p.  204.] 

Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  1605. 

Letter  to  Sir  Ralph  Winwood,  January,  1605. 
On  Twelfth-Day  ...  at  Night  we  had  the  Queen's  Maske  [of 
Blackness]  in  the  Banquetting-House,  or  rather  her  Pagent. 
There  was  a  great  Engine  at  the  lower  end  of  the  Room,  which 
had  Motion,  and  in  it  were  the  Images  of  Sea-Horses  with  other 
terrible  Fishes,  which  were  ridden  by  Moors:  The  Indecorum 
was,  that  there  was  all  Fish  and  no  Water.  At  the  further  end 
was  a  great  Shell  in  form  of  a  Skallop,  wherein  were  four  Seats; 
on  the  lowest  sat  the  Queen  with  my  Lady  Bedford;  on  the  rest 
were  placed  the  Ladies  Suffolk,  Darby,  Rich,  Effingham,  Ann 
Herbert,  Susan  Herbert,  Elizabeth  Howard,  Walsingham  and  Bevil. 
Their  Apparell  was  rich,  but  too  light  and  Curtizan-like  for.  such 
great  ones.  Instead  of  Vizzards,  their  Faces,  and  Arms  up  to 
the  Elbows,  were  painted  black,  which  was  Disguise  sufficient, 
for  they  were  hard  to  be  known;  but  it  became  them  nothing  so 


TO   BEN  JONSON  41 

well  as  their  red  and  white,  and  you  cannot  imagine  a  more  ugly 
Sight,  then  a  Troop  of  lean-cheek'd  Moors.  The  Spanish  and 
Venetian  Ambassadors  were  both  present,  and  sate  by  the  king 
in  State;  at  which  Monsieur  Beaumont  quarrells  so  extreamly, 
that  he  saith  the  whole  Court  is  Spanish.  But  by  his  Favour,  he 
should  fall  out  with  none  but  himself,  for  they  were  all  indiffer 
ently  invited  to  come  as  private  Men,  to  a  private  Sport;  which 
he  refusing,  the  Spanish  Ambassador  willingly  accepted,  and 
being  there,  seeing  no  Cause  to  the  contrary,  he  put  off  Don 
Taxis,  and  took  upon  him  El  Senor  Embaxadour,  wherein  he 
outstript  our  little  Monsieur.  .  .  .  The  Night's  Work  was  con 
cluded  with  a  Banquet  in  the  great  Chamber,  which  was  so 
seriously  assaulted,  that  down  went  Table  and  Tresses  before 
one  bit  was  touched. 

[Winwood  State  Papers,  1725,  ii,  43-44.! 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1605. 

Nicolo  Molin,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge  and 
Senate,  January  27  [0.5.  77],  1605. 

On  the  i6th  [O.S.  6th]  of  this  month,  Epiphany  old  style,  the 
King  created  his  second  son  Duke  of  York,  and  made  twelve 
Knights  of  the  Bath,  so  called  because  at  their  creation  they  are 
dipped.  The  morning  of  that  day,  the  Chamberlain  sent  to 
say  that  if  I  cared  to  see  the  Queen's  masque  [Jonson's  Masque 
of  Blackness]  that  evening  he  would  secure  a  convenient  seat 
for  myself  and  three  or  four  of  my  suite.  He  explained  that  all 
the  Ambassadors  were  being  invited  privately,  so  as  to  avoid 
quarrels  for  precedence.  I  said  I  would  gladly  attend.  Mean 
time  the  Spanish  Ambassador  hearing  that  the  French  Am 
bassador  was  confined  to  his  bed  made  vigorous  representations 
at  Court  to  secure  for  himself  a  public  invitation;  and  he  suc 
ceeded.  Sir  Lewis  Lewkenor  presently  went  to  visit  the  French 
Ambassador,  who  having  got  wind  of  what  the  Spaniard  was 
about,  received  Lewkenor  very  haughtily. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,    Venetian,  x,  212.     Cf.  also  State  Papers, 
Domestic,  James  I,  xii,  nos.  6,  16;  xiv,  nos.  59,  60.] 


42  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Title-page,  1605. 

Eastward  Hoe.  As  It  was  playd  in  the  Black-friers.  By 
The  Children  of  her  Maiesties  Revels.  Made  by  Geo :  Chapman. 
Ben:  lonson.  loh:  Marston.  At  London  Printed  for  William 
Aspley.  1605. 

[Three  quarto  editions  of  the  play  appeared  in  1605,  with  slight  vari 
ation  in  title-pages.] 

George  Chapman,  1605. 

To  His  Most  Gratious  Majestie: 

Vouchsafe  most  Excellent  Soveraigne  to  take  mercifull  notice 
of  the  submissive  and  amendfull  sorrowes  of  your  two  most 
humble  and  prostrated  subjects  for  your  highnes  displeasure 
[at  Eastward  Hoe?}:  Geo:  Chapman  and  Ben  Jhonson;  whose 
chief  offences  are  but  two  clawses,  and  both  of  them  not  our  owne ; 
much  less  the  unnaturall  issue  of  our  offenceles  intents:  I  hope 
your  Majestie's  universall  knowledge  will  daigne  to  remember: 
That  all  Authoritie  in  execution  of  Justice  especiallie  respects  the 
manners  and  lives  of  men  commanded  before  it ;  And  accordinge 
to  their  generall  actions  censures  anythinge  that  hath  scapt 
them  in  perticular;  which  cannot  be  so  disproportionable  that 
one  being  actuallie  good,  the  other  should  be  intentionallie  ill; 
if  not  intentionallie  (howsoever  it  may  lie  subject  to  construction) 
where  the  whole  founte  of  our  actions  may  be  justified  from 
beinge  in  this  kind  offensive ;  I  hope  the  integrall  partes  will  taste 
of  the  same  loyall  and  dutifull  order:  which  to  aspire  from  your 
most  Cesar-like  Bountie  (who  conquered  still  to  spare  the  con 
quered,  and  was  glad  of  offences  that  he  might  forgive).  In  all 
dijection  of  never-inough  itterated  sorrowe  for  your  high  dis 
pleasure,  and  vowe  of  as  much  future  delight  as  of  your  present 
anger;  we  cast  our  best  parts  at  your  highnes  feete,  and  our 
worst  to  hell. 

George  Chapman. 

[Reproduced  in  The  Athenaum,  March  30,  1901,  p.  403.  See  also 
Joseph  Q.  Adams,  Shakespearean  Playhouses,  pp.  216-18.  M.  Cas- 
telain  doubts  that  Eastward  Hoe  is  the  play  alluded  to  in  these 
letters.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  43 

George  Chapman,  1605. 

[Letters  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain.] 
Most  Worthely  Honord : 

Of  all  the  oversights  for  which  I  suffer,  none  repents  me  so 
much  as  that  our  unhappie  booke  [Eastward  Hoe?]  was  presented 
without  your  Lordshippes  allowance,  for  which  we  can  plead 
nothinge  by  way  of  pardon:  but  your  Person  so  farr  removed 
from  our  requirde  attendance;  our  play  so  much  importun'de, 
and  our  cleere  opinions,  that  nothinge  it  contain'd  could  worthely 
be  held  offensive;  and  had  your  good  Lordshippe  vouchsafte 
this  addition  of  grace  to  your  late  free  bounties,  to  have  heard 
our  reasons  for  our  well  wayd  Opinions;  And  the  wordes  truly 
related  on  which  both  they  and  our  enemies  Complaints  were 
grounded;  I  make  no  question  but  your  Impartial  Justice,  wolde 
have  stoode  much  further  from  their  clamor  then  from  our 
acquittall;  which  indifferent  favoure,  if  yet  your  no  less  than 
Princelye  respect  of  vertue  shall  please  to  bestowe  on  her  poore 
observant,  and  commaunde  my  Appearaunce;  I  doubt  not  but 
the  Tempest  that  hath  dryven  me  into  this  wrackfull  harbor 
will  cleere  with  my  Innocence;  And  withall  the  most  sorrow 
inflicting  wrath  of  his  Excellent  Majestic;  which  to  my  most 
humble  and  zealous  affection  is  so  much  the  more  stormye,  by 
how  much  some  of  my  obscured  laboures  have  striv'd  to  aspire 
in  stead  therof  his  illustrate  favoure:  And  shall  not  be  the  least 
honor  to  his  most  Royall  vertues. 

To  the  most  worthy  and  honorable  Protector  of  vertue :   The 

Lord  Chamberlain. 

George  Chapman. 
******* 
[To  The  Lord  Chamberlain :] 

Notwithstandinge  your  lordshipps  infinite  free  bountie  hath 
pardon'd  and  grac't  when  it  might  justlie  have  punisht;  and 
remembered  our  poore  reputations  when  our  acknowledged 
dewties  to  your  lordshippe  might  worthely  seeme  forgotten ;  yet 
since  true  honor  delightes  to  encrease  with  encrease  of  goodness ; 
&  that  our  habilities  and  healths  fainte  under  our  yrcksome 
burthens;  we  are  with  all  humilitie  enforc't  to  solicite  the 


44  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

propagation  of  your  most  noble  favours  to  our  present  freedome; 
And  the  rather  since  we  heare  from  the  Lord  Dawbney,  that  his 
highnes  hath  remitted  one  of  us  wholie  to'your  Lo:  favoure; 
And  that  the  other  had  still  youre  Lo:  passinge  noble  remem 
brance  for  his  jointe  libertie;  which  his  highnes  selfe  would  not 
be  displeas'd  to  allow;  And  thus  with  all  gratitude  admyringe 
youre  no  lesse  then  sacred  respect  to  the  poore  estate  of  vertue, 
never  were  our  soules  more  appropriate  to  the  powers  of  our 
lives,  then  our  uttmost  lives  are  consecrate  to  your  noblest  service. 

George  Chapman. 
[Reproduced  in  The  Athenaum,  March  30,  1901,  p.  403.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1605. 

6.  Augusti 
Thomas  Thorpe 

Entred  for  his  copy  by  assignement  of  Edward  Blunt 
the  tragedie  of  Seianus  which  was  entred  to  the  said 

Edward  2  novembris  ultimo vjd 

.[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  297.] 

Title-page,  1605. 

Seianus    his    fall.     Written    by    Ben:    lonson.     At    London, 
Printed  by  G.  Elld,  for  Thomas  Thorpe.     1605. 

George  Chapman,  1605. 

In  Sejanum  Ben.  Jonsoni  Et  Musis,  et  sibi  in  Deliciis. 
So  brings  the  wealth-contracting  Jeweller 
Pearles  and  deare  Stones,  from  richest  shores  &  streames, 
As  thy  accomplisht  Travaile  doth  confer 
From  skill-inriched  soules,  their  wealthier  Gems; 
So  doth  his  hand  enchase  in  ammeld  Gould, 
Cut,  and  adornd  beyond  their  Native  Merits, 
His  solid  Flames,  as  thine  hath  here  inrould 
In  more  then  Goulden  Verse,  those  betterd  spirits; 
So  he  entreasures  Princes  Cabinets, 
As  thy  Wealth  will  their  wished  Libraries; 
So,  on  the  throate  of  the  rude  Sea,  he  sets 
His  ventrous  foote,  for  his  illustrious  Prise; 


TO   BEN  JONSON  45 

And  through  wilde  Desarts,  armd  with  wilder  Beasts, 

As  thou  adventurst  on  the  Multitude, 

Upon  the  boggy  and  engulfed  brests 

Of  Hyrelings,  sworne  to  finde  most  Right,  most  rude: 

And  he,  in  stormes  at  Sea,  doth  not  endure, 

Nor  in  vast  Desarts,  amongst  Woolves,  more  danger; 

Then  we,  that  would  with  Vertue  live  secure, 

Sustaine  for  her  in  every  Vices  anger. 

Nor  is  this  Allegoric  unjustly  rackt, 

To  this  strange  length;  Onely  that  Jewels  are, 

In  estimation  meerely,  so  exact: 

And  thy  worke,  in  it  selfe,  is  deare  and  Rare. 

Wherein  Minerva,  had  beene  vanquished, 

Had  she,  by  it,  her  sacred  Loomes  advanc't, 

And  through  thy  subject  woven  her  graphicke  Thread, 

Contending  therein,  to  be  more  entranc't; 

For,  though  thy  hand  was  scarce  addrest  to  drawe 

The  Semi-circle  of  Sejanus  life, 

Thy  Muse  yet  makes  it  the  whole  Sphsere,  and  Lawe, 

To  all  State  Lives;   and  bounds  Ambitions  strife. 

And  as  a  little  Brooke  creepes  from  his  Spring,    . 

With  shallow  tremblings,  through  the  lowest  Vales, 

As  if  he  feard  his  streame  abroad  to  bring, 

Least  profane  Feete  should  wrong  it,  and  rude  Gales; 

But  finding  happy  Channels,  and  supplies 

Of  other  Fordes  mixe  with  his  modest  course, 

He  growes  a  goodly  River,  and  descries 

The  strength,  that  mannd  him,  since  he  left  his  Source; 

Then  takes  he  in  delightsome  Meades,  and  Groves, 

And,  with  his  two-edg'd  waters,  flourishes 

Before  great  Palaces,  and  all  Mens  Loves 

Build  by  his  shores  to  greete  his  Passages : 

So  thy  chaste  Muse,  by  vertuous  selfe-mistrust, 

Which  is  a  true  Marke  of  the  truest  Merit, 

In  Virgin  feare  of  Mens  illiterate  Lust, 

Shut  her  soft  wings,  and  durst  not  showe  her  spirit; 

Till,  nobly  cherisht,  now  thou  lett'st  her  flie, 


46  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Singing  the  sable  Orgies  of  the  Muses, 

And  in  the  highest  Pitche  of  Tragedie, 

Mak'st  her  command,  all  things  thy  Ground  produces. 

But,  as  it  is  a  Signe  of  Love's  first  firing 

Not  Pleasure  by  a  lovely  Presence  taken, 

And  Bouldnesse  to  attempt ;  but  close  Retiring 

To  places  desolate,  and  Fever-shaken ; 

So,  when  the  love  of  Knowledge  first  affects  us, 

Our  Tongues  doe  falter,  and  the  Flame  doth  rove 

Through  our  thinne  spirits,  and  of  feare  detects  us 

T'attaine  her  Truth,  whom  we  so  truely  love. 

Nor  can  (saith  Aeschilus}  a  faire  young  Dame 

Kept  long  without  a  Husband,  more  containe 

Her  amorous  eye,  from  breaking  forth  in  flame, 

When  she  beholds  a  Youth  that  fits  her  vaine; 

Then  any  mans  first  taste  of  Knowledge  truly 

Can  bridle  the  affection  she  inspireth; 

But  let  it  flie  on  Men,  that  most  unduly 

Haunt  her  with  hate,  and  all  the  Loves  she  fireth. 

If  our  Teeth,  Head,  or  but  our  Finger  ake, 

We  straight  seeke  the  Phisitian;  If  a  Fever, 

Or  any  curefull  maladie  we  take, 

The  grave  Phisitian  is  desired  ever: 

But  if  proud  Melancholic,  Lunacie, 

Or  direct  Madnesse  over-heate  our  braines, 

We  Rage,  Beate  out,  or  the  Phisitian  flie, 

Loosing  with  vehemence,  even  the  sense  of  Paines. 

So  of  Offenders,  they  are  past  recure, 

That  with  a  tyranous  spleene,  their  stings  extend 

Gainst  their  Reprovers;  They  that  will  endure 

All  discreete  Discipline,  are  not  said  t'  offend. 

Though  others  qualified,  then,  with  Naturall  skill 

(More  sweete  mouthd,  and  affecting  shrewder  wits) 

Blanche  Coles,  call  Illnesse,  good,  and  Goodnesse  ill, 

Breath  thou  the  fire,  that  true-spoke  Knowledge  fits. 

Thou  canst  not  then  be  Great?  yes.     Who  is  he, 

(Said  the  good  Spartane  King)  greater  then  I, 


TO   BEN   JONSON  47 

That  is  not  likewise  juster?     No  degree 

Can  boast  of  emminence,  or  Emperie, 

(As  the  great  Stagerite  held)  in  any  One 

Beyond  Another,  whose  Soule  farther  sees, 

And  in  whose  Life  the  Gods  are  better  knowne: 

Degrees  of  Knowledge  difference  all  Degrees. 

Thy  Poeme,  therefore,  hath  this  due  respect, 

That  it  lets  passe  nothing,  without  observing, 

Worthy  Instruction ;  or  that  might  correct 

Rude  manhers,  and  renowme  the  well  deserving: 

Performing  such  a  lively  Evidence 

In  thy  Narrations,  that  thy  Hearers  still 

Thou  turnst  to  thy  Spectators ;  and  the  sense 

That  thy  Spectators  have  of  good  or  ill, 

Thou  inject'st  joyntly  to  thy  Readers  soules. 

So  deare  is  held,  so  deckt  thy  numerous  Taske, 

As  thou  putt'st  handles  to  the  Thespian  Boules, 

Or  stuckst  rich  Plumes  in  the  Palladian  Caske. 

All  thy  worth,  yet,  thyself  must  Patronise, 

By  quaffing  more  of  the  Castalian  Head ; 

In  expiscation  of  whose  Mysteries, 

Our  Netts  must  still  be  clogd,  with  heavy  Lead, 

To  make  them  sincke  and  catche :  For  cheerefull  Gould 

Was  never  found  in  the  Pierian  Streames, 

But  Wants,  and  Scornes,  and  Shames  for  silver  sould. 

What,  what  shall  we  elect  in  these  extreames? 

Now  by  the  Shafts  of  the  great  Cyrrhan  Poet, 

That  beare  all  light,  that  is,  about  the  world ; 

I  would  have  all  dull  Poet-Haters  know  it, 

They  shall  be  soule-bound,  and  in  darknesse  hurld 

A  thousand  yeares,  (as  Sathan  was,  their  Syre) 

Ere  Any  worthy,  the  Poetique  Name, 

(Might  I,  that  warme  but,  at  the  Muses  fire, 

Presume  to  guard  it),  should  let  Deathlesse  Fame 

Light  halfe  a  beame  of  all  her  hundred  Eyes, 

At  him  dimme  Taper,  in  their  memories. 

Flie,  flie,  you  are  too  neare;  so  odorous  Flowers, 


4g  AN  ALLUSION -BOOK 

Being  held  too  neare  the  Sensor  of  our  Sense, 
Render  not  pure,  nor  so  sincere  their  powers, 
As  being  held  a  little  distance  thence; 
Because  much  troubled  Earthy  parts  improve  them: 
Which  mixed  with  the  odors  we  exhall, 
Do  vitiate  what  we  drawe  in.     But  remoove  them 
A  little  space,  the  Earthy  parts  do  fall, 
And  what  is  pure,  and  hote  by  his  tenuitye, 
Is  to  our  powers  of  Savor  purely  borne. 
But  flie,  or  staie;  Use  thou  the  assiduitie, 
Fit  for  a  true  Contemner  of  their  scorne. 
Our  Phoebus  may,  with  his  exampling  Beames, 
Burne  out  the  webs  from  their  Arachnean  eyes, 
Whose  knowledge  (Day-star  to  all  Diadems,) 
Should  banish  knowledge-hating  Policies : 
*         *         *         * 

And  so,  good  Friend,  safe  passage  to  thy  Freight, 
To  thee  a  long  Peace,  through  a  vertuous  strife, 
In  which  lets  both  contend  to  Vertues  height, 
Not  making  Fame  our  Object,  but  good  life. 

Come  forth,  SE JANUS,  fall  before  this  Booke, 
And  of  thy  Falles  Reviver  aske  forgivenesse, 
That  thy  lowe  Birth  and  Merits  durst  to  looke 
A  Fortune  in  the  face,  of  such  unevennesse; 
For  so  his  fervent  love  to  Vertue,  hates, 
That  her  pluckt  plumes  should  wing  Vice  to  such  calling, 
That  he  presents  thee  to  all  marking  States, 
As  if  thou  hadst  beene  all  this  while  in  falling. 
His  strong  Arme  plucking,  from  the  Middle-world, 
Fames  Brazen  House,  and  layes  her  Towre  as  low, 
As  HOMERS  Barathrum;  that,  from  Heaven  hurld, 
Thou  might'st  fall  on  it:  and  thy  Ruines  growe 
To  all  Posterities,  from  his  worke,  the  Ground, 
And  under  Heav'n,  nought  but  his  Song  might  sound. 
HAEC   COMMENTATUS  EST 

Georgius  Chapmannus. 
[The  first  of  the  gratulatory  poems  prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  49 

Hugh  Holland,  1605. 

For  his  worthy  Friend,  the  Author. 
In  that  this  book  doth  deign  SEJANUS'  name, 
Him  unto  more  than  Caesar's  love  it  brings : 
For  where  he  could  not  with  ambition's  wings, 
One  quill  doth  heave  him  to  the  height  of  fame. 
Ye  great-ones  though,  (whose  ends  may  be  the  same,) 
Know,  that,  (however  we  do  flatter  kings,) 
Their  favours  (like  themselves)  are  fading  things, 
With  no  less  envy  had,  than  lost  with  shame. 
Nor  make  your  selves  less  honest  than  you  are, 
To  make  our  author  wiser  than  he  is: 
Ne  of  such  crimes  accuse  him,  which  I  dare 
By  all  his  Muses  swear  be  none  of  his. 
The  men  are  not,  some  faults  may  be  these  times : 
He  acts  those  men,  and  they  did  act  these  crimes. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 

Cygnus,  1605. 

To  the  deserving  Author. 
When  I  respect  thy  argument,  I  see 
An  image  of  those  times :  but  when  I  view 
The  wit,  the  workmanship,  so  rich,  so  true, 
The  tirnes  themselves  do  seem  retriev'd  to  me. 
And  as  Sejanus,  in  thy  tragedy, 
Falleth  from  Caesar's  grace ;  even  so  the  crew 
Of  common  playwrights,  whom  opinion  blew 
Big  with  false  greatness,  are  disgrac'd  by  thee. 
Thus,  in  one  tragedy,  thou  makest  twain  : 
And,  since  fair  works  of  justice  fit  the  part 
Of  tragic  writers,  Muses  do  ordain 
That  all  tragedians,  Masters  of  their  Art, 
Who  shall  hereafter  follow  on  this  tract, 
In  writing  well,  thy  Tragedy  shall  act. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 


50  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Th.  R.,  1605. 

To  his  learned,  and  beloved  Friend,  upon  his  aequall  worke. 
Sejanus,  great,  and  eminent  in  Rome, 
Raised  above  all  the  senate,  both  in  grace 
Of  princes'  favour,  authority,  and  place, 
And  popular  dependence;  yet  how  soon, 
Even  with  the  instant  of  his  overthrow, 
Is  all  this  pride  and  greatness  now  forgot, 
(Only  that  in  former  grace  he  stood  not) 
By  them  which  did  his  state  not  treason  know ! 
His  very  flatterers,  that  did  adorn 
Their  necks  with  his  rich  medals,  now  in  flame 
Consume  them,  and  would  lose  even  his  name, 
Or  else  recite  it  with  reproach,  or  scorn! 
This  was  his  Roman  fate.     But  now  thy  Muse 
To  us  that  neither  knew  his  height,  nor  fall, 
Hath  raised  him  up  with  such  memorial, 
All  future  states  and  times  his  name  shall  use. 
What,  not  his  good,  nor  ill  could  once  extend 
To  the  next  age,  thy  verse,  industrious, 
And  learned  friend,  hath  made  illustrious 
To  this.     Nor  shall  his,  or  thy  fame  have  end. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.     The  writer  was  probably  Sir  Thomas  Roe. 

John  Marston,  1605. 

Amicis,  amid  nostri  dignissimi,  dignissimis, 
Epigramma. 

D. 

Johannes  Marstonius. 

Ye  ready  friends,  spare  your  unneedful  bays, 
This  work  despairful  envy  must  even  praise: 
Phcebus  hath  voiced  it  loud  through  echoing  skies, 
SEJANUS'  FALL  shall  force  thy  merit  rise; 
For  never  English  shall,' or  hath  before 
Spoke  fuller  grac'd.     He  could  say  much,  not  more. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  51 

William  Strachey,  1605. 

Upon  Sejanus. 

How  high  a  poor  man  shows  in  low  estate 
Whose  base  is  firm,  and  whole  frame  competent, 
That  sees  this  cedar,  made  the  shrub  of  fate, 
Th'  one's  little,  lasting;  th'  others  confluence  spent. 
And  as  the  lightning  comes  behind  the  thunder 
From  the  torn  cloud,  yet  first  invades  our  sense: 
So  every  violent  fortune,  that  to  wonder 
Hoists  men  aloft,  is  a  clear  evidence 
Of  a  vaunt-courring  blow  the  fates  have  given 
To  his  forced  state:  swift  lightning  blinds  his  eyes, 
While  thunder,  from  comparison — hating  heaven, 
Dischargeth  on  his  height,  and  there  it  lies! 
If  men  will  shun  swol'n  fortune's  ruinous  blasts, 
Let  them  use  temperance :  nothing  violent  lasts. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 

$IAOE,  1605. 

To  him  that  hath  so  excelled  on  this  excellent  subject. 
Thy  poem  (pardon  me)  is  mere  deceit; 
Yet  such  deceit,  as  thou  that  dost  beguile, 
Art  juster  far  than  they  who  use  no  wile ; 
And  they  who  are  deceived  by  this  feat, 
More  wise,  than  such  who  can  eschew  thy  cheat: 
For  thou  hast  given  each  part  so  just  a  style, 
That  men  suppose  the  action  now  on  file ; 
(And  men  suppose,  who  are  of  best  conceit). 
Yet  some  there  be,  that  are  not  moved  hereby, 
And  others  are  so  quick,  that  they  will  spy 
Where  later  times  are  in  some  speech  unweaved, 
Those,  wary  simples;  and  these,  simple  elves; 
They  are  so  dull,  they  cannot  be  deceived, 
These  so  unjust,  they  will  deceive  themselves. 
[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.] 


52  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Ev.  B.,  1605. 

To  the  most  understanding  Poet. 

When  in  .the  Globe's  fair  ring,  our  world's  best  stage, 
I  saw  Sejanus  set  with  that  rich  foil, 
I  look't  the  author  should  have  born  the  spoil 
Of  conquest,  from  the  writers  of  the  age : 
But  when  I  viewed  the  people's  beastly  rage, 
Bent  to  confound  thy  grave,  and  learned  toil, 
That  cost  thee  so  much  sweat,  and  so  much  oil, 
My  indignation  I  could  hardly  assuage. 
And  many  there  (in  passion)  scarce  could  tell 
Whether  thy  fault,  or  theirs  deserved  most  blame; 
Thine,  for  so  showing,  theirs,  to  wrong  the  same: 
But  both  they  left  within  that  doubtful  hell, 
From  whence,  this  publication  sets  thee  free : 
They,  for  their  ignorance,  still  damned  be. 

[Prefixed  to  Sejanus,  1605.  Possibly  "Ev."  is  an  error  for  "Ed.,"  and 
the  author  Edmund  Bolton,  one  of  Jonson's  best  friends.] 

The  Privy  Council,  1605. 

7  Nov.  1605. 

A  warrant  unto  Benjamen  Johnson  to  let  a  certaine  priest 
knowe  that  offered  to  do  good  service  to  the  State,  that  he  should 
securely  come  and  goe,  to  and  from  the  Lords,  which  they 
promised  in  the  said  warrant  upon  their  honors. 

[Extract  from  a  MS.  in  the  British  Museum,  containing  an  Abstract 
of  the  Privy  Council  Register  which  is  now  lost;  reprinted  in  The 
Athentzum,  April  22,  1865,  p.  553,  with  a  letter  from  Jonson  to  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  and  a  general  discussion  of  Jonson's  connection 
with  the  gunpowder  plot  conspirators.] 

Title-page,  1606. 

Hymenaei:  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  to  the  most  noble  Earle  of  Suffolke. 
By  Ben:  lonson.  .  .  .  Valentine  Sims  for  Thomas  Thorp  .  .  . 
1606. 


TO   BEN   JONSON  53 

John  Pory,  1606. 

Letter  to  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  January,  1606. 
I  have  seen  both  the  Maske  [Hymencei]  on  Sunday,  and  the 
Barriers  on  Munday  night.  .  .  .  But  to  return  to  the  Mask. 
Inigo,  Ben,  and  the  actors,  men  and  women,  did  their  parts 
with  great  commendation.  The  conceit  or  soul  of  the  Mask 
was  Hymen  bringing  in  a  bride,  and  Juno  Pronuba's  priest  a 
bridegroom,  proclaiming  that  those  two  should  be  sacrificed  to 
Union;  and  here  the  poet  made  an  apostrophe  to  the  Union  of 
the  Kingdoms.  But  before  the  sacrifice  could  be  performed, 
Ben  Jonson  turned  the  globe  of  the  earth  standing  behind  the 
altar,  and  within  the  concave  sat  the  eight  men-maskers,  repre 
senting  the  four  Humours  and  the  four  Affections,  who  leaped 
forth  to  disturb  the  sacrifice  to  Union.  But  amidst  their  fury, 
Reason,  that  sat  above  them  all  crowned  with  burning  tapers, 
came  down  and  silenced  them.  These  eight,  with  Reason  their 
mediator,  sat  somewhat  like  the  ladies  in  the  Scollop-shell  of 
the  last  year.  About  the  globe  hovered  a  middle  region  of 
clouds,  in  the  centre  whereof  stood  a  grand  concert  of  musicians, 
and  upon  the  cantons  sat  the  ladies,  four  at  one  corner  and  four 
at  another,  who  descended  upon  the  stage,  not  in  the  down 
right  perpendicular  fashion,  like  a  bucket  in  a  well,  but  came 
gently  sloping  down.  These  eight  after  the  sacrifice  was  ended, 
represented  the  Eight  Nuptial  Powers  of  Juno  Pronuba,  who 
came  down  to  confirm  their  Union.  The  men  were  clad  in 
crimson,  and  the  women  in  white.  They  had  every  one  a  white 
plume  of  the  richest  hern's  feathers,  and  were  so  rich  in  jewels 
upon  their  heads  as  was  most  glorious.  I  think  they  hired  and 
borrowed  all  the  principal  jewels  and  ropes  of  pearls  both  in 
court  and  city.  (The  Spanish  ambassador  seemed  but  poor  to 
the  meanest  of  them.)  They  danced  all  variety  of  dances,  both 
severally  and  promiscue,  and  then  the  women  took  the  men  as 
named  by  the  Prince  [Henry]  who  danced  with  as  great  perfec 
tion,  and  as  settled  a  majesty  as  could  be  devised. 

[From  the  Cotton  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum;  see  J.  P.  Collier, 
History  of  English  Dramatic  Poetry,  1879,  i,  350;  the  Gifford- 
Cunningham  ed.  of  Jonson,  1871,  i,  xxxiii,  note  4.] 


54 


AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 


John  Marston,  1606. 

To  the  General  Reader. 

...  To  transcribe  authors,  quote  authorities,  and  translate 
Latin  prose  orations  into  English  blank  verse,  hath,  in  this 
subject,  been  the  least  aim  of  my  studies. 

[Sophonisba,  1606.     Marston  seems  to  be  alluding  to  Jonson's  Sejanus.} 

Anonymous,  1606. 

Envy.     From  my  foul  study  will  I  hoist  a  wretch, 
A  lean  and  hungry  meagre  cannibal, 
Whose  jaws  swell  to  his  eyes  with  chawing  malice, 
And  him  I'll  make  a  poet. 
This  scrambling  raven  with  his  needy  beard 
Will  I  whet  on  to  write  a  comedy, 
Wherein  shall  be  compos'd  dark  sentences, 
Pleasing  to  factious  brains. 
And  every  other  where  place  me  a  jest, 
Whose  high  abuse  shall  more  torment  than  blows. 

[Epilogue  to  the  1606  edition  of  Mucedorus.  The  allusion  has  been 
thought  to  be  to  Jonson,  and  the  phrase  "needy  beard"  certainly 
points  to  him.] 

Thomas  Dekker,  1607. 

Item,  when  a  cobler  of  poetry,  called  a  playe  patcher,  was  con 
demned  with  his  catte  to  be  duckt  three  times  in  the  cucking- 
stoole  of  Pyriphlegeton,  (beeing  one  of  the  scalding  rivers,) 
till  they  both  dropt  again,  because  he  scolded  against  his  betters, 
and  those  whom  hee  lived  uppon :  laid  out  at  that  time  for  straw, 
to  have  caried  pusse  away  if  she  had  kittened,  to  avoyd  anie 
catterwalling  in  Hell,  j.  pennie. 

[A  Knight's  Conjuring,  1607,  ed.  E.  F.  Rimbault,  1842,  p.  65.  The 
allusion  seems  to  be  to  Jonson,  and  the  Poetomachia.] 

Lewis  Machin,  1607. 

Everie  Woman  in  her  Humor.  London.  Printed  by  E.  A. 
for  Thomas  Archer,  and  are  to  be  solde  at  his  shop  in  the  Popes- 
head-Pallace,  neere  the  Royall  Exchange.  1609. 

[The  title  is  evidently  in  imitation  of  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humor, 
and  it  is  frankly  indebted  for  the  suggestion  of  several  of  its  charac 
ters  and  some  of  its  plot  to  Every  Man  -out  of  his  Humor.  For 


TO   BEN  JONSON  55 

the  identification  of  the  author,  and  the  date  of  composition,  see 
J.  Q.  Adams,  "Every  Woman  in  her  Humor  and  The  Dumb  Knight," 
in  Modern  Philology,  x,  413.  The  title  of  John  Day's  Humour  out 
of  Breath,  acted  by  the  same  company  in  1607-8,  is  probably  a 
satire  on  all  these  "humor"  plays.] 


Records  of  the  Merchant-Taylors'  School,  1607. 

Whereas  the  company  are  informed  that  the  kings  moast 
excellent  maty  with  our  gratious  queene,  and  the  noble  prince, 
and  diverse  honorable  lords  and  others,  determyne  to  dyne  at 
our  hall  on  the  day  of  theleccon  of  m-r  and  wardens,  therefore 
this  meeting  was  appointed  to  advise  and  consult  howe  every 
thinge  may  be  performed  for  the  reputacon  and  creditt  of  the 
company,  and  to  give  his  maty  best  lykeing  and  contentment, 
&c.  &c.  &c.  And  Sir  John  Swynnerton  is  entreated  to  conferr 
with  Mr.  Beniamyn  Johnson,  the  poet,  about  a  speech  to  be 
made  to  welcome  his  maty  and  for  musique  and  other  inventions 
which  may  give  liking  and  delight  to  his  maty,  by  reason  that 
the  company  doubt,  that  their  schoolem-r  and  schollers  be  not 
acquainted  with  such  kinde  of  entertagnements. 

[Minutes  of  Court,  27  June,  1607,  reprinted  in  The  History  of  Merchant- 
Taylors'  School,  H.  B.  Wilson,  1814,  p.  171.] 

Records  of  the  Merchant-Taylors'  School,  1607. 

The  following  particulars  are  taken  from  the  Merchant 
Taylors'  Company's  Records  on  the  occasion  of  King  James' 
visit  to  the  Merchant  Taylors'  School : — 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  Hall  there  was  set  a  chair  of  Estate, 
where  his  Majesty  sat  and  viewed  the  Hall;  and  a  very  proper 
child,  well  spoken,  being  clothed  like  an  Angel  of  gladness,  with  a 
taper  of  frankincense  burning  in  his  hand,  delivered  a  short 
Speech,  containing  18  verses,  devised  by  Mr.  Ben  Jonson,  which 
pleased  his  Majesty  marvelously  well. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  137-38. 


56  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Title-page,  1607. 

Ben:  lonson  his  Volpone  Or  The  Foxe.     Printed  for  Thomas 
Thorppe.     1607. 

Edmund  Bolton,  1607. 

Ad  Utramque  Academiam,  De  Benjamin  lonsonio. 
Hie  ille  est  primus,  qui  doctum  drama  Britannis, 
Graiorum  antiqua,  et  Latii  monimenta  theatri, 
Tanquam  explorator  versans,  foelicibus  ausis 
Prsebrebit:  magnis  coeptis,  gemina  astra,  favete. 
Alterutra  veteres  contenti  laude:  Cothurnum  hie, 
Atque  pari  soccum  tractat  Sol  scenicus  arte ; 
Das  Volpone  jocos,  fletus  Sejane  dedisti. 
At  si  Jonsonias  mulctatas  limite  musas 
Angusta  plangent  quiquam:  Vos,  dicite,  contra, 
O  nimiurri  miseros  quibus  Anglis  Anglica  lingua, 
Aut  non  sat  nota  est ;  aut  queis  (seu  trans  mare  natis) 
Haud  nota  omnino!    Vegetet  cum  tempore  vates, 
Mutabit  patriam,  fietque  ipse  Anglus  Apollo. 

[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607,  with  the  initials  E.  B.     In  the  folio  of  1616 
the  poem  is  signed  E.  Bolton.] 

John  Donne,  1607. 

Amices simo  &  meritissimo  Ben:  lonson. 
Quod  arte  ausus  es  hie  tua,  Poeta, 
Si  auderent  hominum  Deique  juris 
Consulti,  veteres  sequi  aemularierque, 
Omnes  saperemus  ad  salutem. 
His  sed  sunt  veteres  araneosi ; 
Tarn  nemo  veterum  est  secutor,  ut  tu 
Illos  quod  sequeris  novator  audis. 
Fac  tamen  quod  agis;  tuique  prima 
Libri  canitie  induantur  hora; 
Nam  chartis  pueritia  est  neganda, 
Nascanturque  senes,  oportet,  illi 
Libri,  quis  dare  vis  parennitatem. 
Priscis,  ingenium  facit,  laborque 
Te  parem;  hos  superes,  ut  te  futures, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  57 

Ex  nostra  vitiositate  sumas, 

Qua  priscos  superamus,  et  futures. 

[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607,  signed  I.  D.;   included  in  the  1650  edition 
of  Donne's  Poems.] 

T.  R.,  1607. 

To  my  friend  Mr.  Johnson. 

Epigramme. 

lonson,  to  tell  the  world  what  I  to  thee 
Am,  'tis  Friend.     Not  to  praise,  nor  usher  forth 
Thee,  or  thy  worke,  as  if  it  needed  mee 
Send  I  these  ri'mes  to  adde  ought  to  thy  worth : 
So  should  I  flatter  my  selfe,  and  not  thine; 
For  there  were  truth  on  thy  side,  none  on  mine. 

To  the  Reader.     Upon  the  worke. 
If  thou  dar'st  bite  this  Fox,  then  read  my  rhymes; 
Thou  guilty  art  of  some  of  these  foul  crimes : 
Which  else,  are  neither  his  nor  thine,  but  Time's. 

If  thou  dost  like  it,  well;  it  will  imply 
Thou  lik'st  with  judgment,  or  best  company: 
And  he,  that  doth  not  so,  doth  yet  envy. 

The  ancient  forms  reduced,  as  in  this  age 

The  vices  are ;  and  bare-faced  on  the  stage  : 

So  boys  were  taught  to  abhor  seen  drunkards  rage. 

[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.     The  author  is  probably  Sir  Thomas  Roe, 
who  prefixed  verses  to  Sejanus  in  1605.] 

Francis  Beaumont,  1607. 

To  my  deare  friend,  Mr.  Beniamin  lonson,  upon  his  Foxe. 
If  it  might  stand  with  justice,  to  allow 
The  swift  conversion  of  all  follies ;  now, 
Such  is  my  mercy,  that  I  could  admit 
All  sorts  should  equally  approve  the  wit 
Of  this  thy  even  work:  whose  growing  fame 
Shall  raise  thee  high,  and  thou  it,  with  thy  name. 
And  did  not  manners,  and  my  love  command 


58  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Me  to  forbear  to  make  those  understand, 

Whom  thou,  perhaps,  hast  in  thy  wiser  doom 

Long  since,  firmly  resolved,  shall  never  come 

To  know  more  than  they  do ;  I  would  have  shewn 

To  all  the  world,  the  art,  which  thou  alone 

Hast  taught  our  tongue,  the  rules  of  time,  of  place, 

And  other  rites,  delivered  with  the  grace 

Of  comic  style,  which  only,  is  far  more 

Than  any  English  stage  hath  known  before. 

But  since  our  subtle  gallants  think  it  good 

To  like  of  nought  that  may  be  understood, 

Lest  they  should  be  disproved:  or  have,  at  best, 

Stomachs  so  raw,  that  nothing  can  digest 

But  what's  obscene,  or  barks:  let  us  desire 

They  may  continue,  simply  to  admire 

Fine  cloaths,  and  strange  words;  and  may  live,  in  age, 

To  see  themselves  ill  brought  upon  the  stage, 

And  like  it.     Whilst  thy  bold  and  knowing  Muse 

Contemns  all  praise,  but  such  as  thou  wouldst  choose. 

[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607,  where  the  verses  are  signed  merely  F.  B. 
In  the  folio  of  1616,  however,  they  are  signed  Franc.  Beaumont.] 

D.  D.,  1607. 

To  my  good  friend,  Mr.  Johnson. 
The  strange  new  follies  of  this  idle  age, 
In  strange  new  forms,  presented  on  the  stage 
By  thy  quick  muse,  so  pleased  judicious  eyes; 
That  th'  once  admired  ancient  comedies' 
Fashions,  like  clothes  grown  out  of  fashion,  lay 
Locked  up  from  use:  until  thy  Fox'  birthday, 
In  an  old  garb,  showed  so  much  art,  and  wit, 
As  they  the  laurel  gave  to  thee,  and  it. 
[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.] 

I.  C.,  1607. 

To  the  ingenious  Poet. 

The  Fox,  that  eased  thee  of  thy  modest  fears, 
And  earthed  himself,  alive,  into  our  ears 


TO   BEN   JONSON  59 

Will  so,  in  death,  commend  his  worth,  and  thee 
As  neither  can,  by  praises,  mended  be: 
'Tis  friendly  folly,  thou  may'st  thank,  and  blame, 
To  praise  a  book,  whose  forehead  bears  thy  name. 
Then  Jonson,  only  this  (among  the  rest,) 
I,  ever,  have  observed,  thy  last  work's  best: 
Pace,  gently  on;  thy  worth,  yet  higher,  raise; 
Till  thou  write  best,  as  well  as  the  best  plays. 
[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.     The  author  may  be  Sir  John  Cleveland.] 

G.  C.,  1607. 

To  his  deere  friend,  Benjamin  Johnson,  his  Volpone. 
Come  yet  more  forth,  Volpone,  and  thy  chase 
Perform  to  all  length,  for  thy  breath  will  serve  thee; 
The  usurer  shall  never  wear  thy  case : 
Men  do  not  hunt  to  kill,  but  to  preserve. 
Before  the  best  hounds  thou  dost  still  but  play; 
And  for  our  whelps,  alas,  they  yelp  in  vain. 
Thou  hast  no  earth;  thou  hunt'st  the  Milk-white  way, 
And  through  the  Elysian  fields  dost  make  thy  train, 
And  as  the  symbol  of  life's  guard  the  hare, 
That,  sleeping  wakes ;  and  for  her  fear  was  safed ; 
So  shalt  thou  be  advanced  and  made  a  star, 
Pole  to  all  wits,  believed  in  for  thy  craft, 
In  which  the  scenes  both  mark,  and  mystery 
Is  hit,  and  sounded,  to  please  best  and  worst; 
To  all  which,  since  thou  makest  so  sweet  a  cry, 
Take  all  thy  best  fare,  and  be  nothing  cursed. 
[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.     The  author  is  probably  George  Chapman.] 

E.  S.,  1607. 

To  my  worthily-esteemed  Mr.  Ben:  Jonson. 
Volpone  now  is  dead  indeed,  and  lies 
Exposed  to  the  censure  of  all  eyes, 
And  Mouths;  now  he  hath  run  his  train,  and  shewn 
His  subtle  body,  where  he  best  was  known ; 
In  both  Minerva's  cities:  he  doth  yield, 
His  well-formed  limbs  upon  this  open  field. 


6o  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Who,  if  they  now  appear  so  fair  in  sight, 
How  did  they,  when  they  were  endowed  with  spright 
Of  action?     In  thy  praise  let  this  be  read, 
The  Fox  will  live  when  all  his  hounds  be  dead. 
[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.     Gifford  identifies  the  author  with  Edward 
Scory.] 

I.  F.,  1607. 

To  the  true  Mr.  in  his  Art,  B.  Jonson. 
Forgive  thy  friends;  they  would,  but  cannot  praise, 
Enough  the  wit,  art,  language  of  thy  plays : 
Forgive  thy  foes;  they  will  not  praise  thee.     Why? 
Thy  fate  hath  thought  it  best,  they  should  envy. 
Faith,  for  thy  Fox's  sake,  forgive  then  those 
Who  are  nor  worthy  to  be  friends,  nor  foes. 
Or,  for  their  own  brave  sake,  let  them  be  still 
Fools  at  thy  mercy,  and  like  what  they  will. 
[Prefixed  to  Volpone,  1607.     The  author  is  probably  John  Fletcher.] 

N[athaniel]  F[ield],  1607. 

To  the  worthiest  Maister  Jonson. 
For  mee,  your  Worke  or  you,  most  worthy  Friend, 
('Mongst  these  un-aequall'd  Men)  to  dare  commend, 
Were  damnable  presumption ;  whose  weake  flame 
Can  neither  dimme,  or  light  your  full  grow'n  fame: 
How  can  my  common  knowledge  set  you  forth, 
When  it  wants  art,  and  Art  it  selfe  wants  worth? 
Therefore,  how  vaine  (although  by  you,  made  one) 
Am  I,  to  put  such  saucy  boldnesse  on 
To  send  you  Verses?  vainer,  to  conceive 
You  do  in  my  weake  time  so  much  beleeve, 
As,  that  without  the  forfeit  of  your  owne 
Judgement,  you'ld  let  my  pen,  with  theirs,  be  showne : 
Unlesse,  to  have  me  touch  what  they  do  write, . 
To  give  my  lame-blind  Muse  sound  strength,  cleare  sight. 
There'are,  whose  Playes  (nere  lik'd)  do  alwaies  passe; 
That  have  read  more,  then  ever  written  was; 


TO   BEN  JONSON  6 1 

Will  ignorant  be  of  nothing;  every  place 

Th'  have  scene,  or  knowe;  who,  had  they  but  the  grace, 

That  you  do  me  (me  thinkes)  would  say,  your  streine 

Exceeded  Plautus,  Horace,  Virgil's  vaine: 

Two  points  they  would  hit,  here;  give  you  your  due, 

And  tell  the  world  how  many  names  they  knew 

Of  Poets,  and  nought  else.     For,  as  the  poore, 

To  make  one  dinner,  scrape  at  every  doore, 

Get  here  a  bone,  there  tainted  meate,  here  bread, 

To  save  'hem  from  the  number  of  the  dead ; 

Even  so,  their  Beggar-Muse  hence  steales  a  Scene, 

Thence  begges  a  speach,  &  from  most  Plaies  doth  gleane, 

Till  they  have  made  one:  which  is  like,  being  showne, 

The  Prisoners-basket,  into  which  is  throwne 

All  mammocks,  fish,  and  flesh,  which  but  to  eye 

Or  sent,  would  make  all  (but  the  neare-sterv'd)  die. 

These  I  can  now  dispraise,  But,  how  O  Muse, 

Canst  thou  praise  him,  who  hath  more  worth  t'  excuse 

Thy  not-praysing,  then  thou  faculty  to  praise? 

His  name  (long  since  at  highest)  none  can  raise. 

Yet  he,  that  covets  worthy  deedes,  doth  doe  'hem; 

If  nought,  but  meanes,  withstand  thee  to  pursue  'hem; 

But,  thou  that  wouldst  ore  his  true  praises  looke, 

First,  pray  to  understand,  then  read  his  booke. 

[This  poem  appears  on  an  inserted  leaf  at  the  end  of  the  complimentary 
poems,  in  the  copy  of  the  1607  quarto  of  Volpone  presented  by 
Jonson  to  John  Florio,  now  in  the  British  Museum.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1608. 

Zorzi  Giustinian,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  10  [0.5.  December  31],  1608. 

The  King  came  back  to  the  City  four  days  ago  to  keep  Christ 
mas.  He  and  the  Court  are  entirely  absorbed  in  the  festivities 
and  in  the  Queen's  Masque  [ Jonson 's  Masque  of  Beauty].  She 
is  giving  it  great  attention  in  order  that  it  may  come  up  to 
expectation. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  p.  82;  cf.  pp.  74,  76,  and  Cal 
endar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  January  5,  1608,  p.  394.] 


62  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Chamberlain,  1608. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  5,  1608. 
The  Masque   [Jonson's   Masque  of  Beauty]  goes  forward   at 
Court  for  Twelfth-day,  tho'  I  doubt  the  New  Room  [the  new 
Banqueting  House]  will  be  scant  ready. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  162.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1608. 

Zorzi  Giustinian,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge 
and  Senate,  January  17  [0.5.  7],  1608. 

The  Court  is  still  occupied  by  festivities.  The  Queen  has 
put  off  her  Masque  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Beauty]  for  a  few  days. 
This  function  has  caused  the  greatest  chagrin  to  the  French 
Ambassador,  who,  on  learning  that  the  King  intended  to  invite 
the  Spanish  Ambassador,  did  all  he  could  to  prevent  him  as  he 
considered  that  in  this  undecided  question  of  precedence,  such 
an  invitation  would  give  a  signal  advantage  to  the  Catholic 
Ambassador.  The  King  has  done  everything  to  come  to  some 
compromise  but,  as  yet,  the  French  Ambassador  declines  to 
consent. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  83.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1608. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  8,  1608. 
We  had  great  hope  to  have  you  here  this  day;  and  then  I 
would  not  have  given  my  part  of  the  Masque  for  many  of  their 
places  that  shall  be  present;  for  I  presume  that  you  and  your 
Lady  would  find  easily  passage,  being  so  befriended.  For  the 
shew  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Beauty]  is  put  off  till  Sunday,  by 
reason  all  things  are  not  ready.  Whatsoever  the  devise  may  be, 
and  what  success  they  may  have  in  their  dancing,  yet  you 
should  be  sure  to  have  seen  great  riches  in  jewels,  when  one 
Lady,  and  that  under  a  Baroness,  is  said  to  be  furnished  for 
better  than  a  hundred  thousand  pounds ;  and  the  Lady  Arabella 
goes  beyond  her;  and  the  Queen  must  not  come  behind. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  162.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  63 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1608. 

Zorzi  Giustinian,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge 
and  Senate,  January  24  [O.S.  14],  1608. 

I  must  just  touch  on  the  splendour  of  the  spectacle  [Jonson's 
Masque  of  Beauty],  which  was  worthy  of  her  Majesty's  greatness. 
The  apparatus  and  the  cunning  of  the  stage  machinery  was  a 
miracle,  the  abundance  and  beauty  of  the  lights  immense,  the 
music  and  the  dance  most  sumptuous.  But  what  beggared  all 
else  and  possibly  exceeded  the  public  expectation  was  the 
wealth  of  pearls  and  jewels  that  adorned  the  Queen  and  her 
ladies,  so  abundant  and  splendid  that  in  every  one's  opinion 
no  other  court  could  have  displayed  such  pomp  and  riches.  So 
well  composed  and  ordered  was  it  all  that  it  is  evident  the  mind 
of  her  Majesty,  the  authoress  of  the  whole,  is  gifted  no  less 
highly  than  her  person.  She  reaped  universal  applause  and  the 
King  constantly  showed  his  approval.  At  the  close  of  the 
ceremony  he  said  to  me  that  he  intended  this  function  to  conse 
crate  the  birth  of  the  Great  Hall  which  his  predecessors  had  left 
him  built  merely  in  wood,  but  which  he  had  converted  into  stone. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,    Venetian,  xi,  p.  86;    cf.   Calendar  of  State 
Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  January  8,  1608,  p.  394.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1608. 

Zorzi  Giustinian,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge 
and  Senate,  January  24  [O.S.  14],  1608. 

Throughout  these  festivities  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity 
to  see  the  King  and  so  I  could  not  execute  my  commission.  He 
is  always  away  at  the  chase,  for  which  the  season  is  propitious. 
He  left  the  day  after  the  Masque  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Beauty}. 
Before  he  left,  however,  he  sent  to  his  Ambassador  in  France 
instructions  as  to  his  answers  should  anything  be  said  to  him 
on  this  question  of  precedence.  The  King  also  closed  the 
passage  between  Dover  and  Calais  in  order  to  intercept  the 
message  which  the  French  Ambassador  here  was  sending  to  his 
master.  At  a  breakfast  which  the  Queen  gave  to  us  she  began 
to  touch  on  the  subject,  but  I  took  care  to  avoid  all  discussion. 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  87.] 


64  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Rowland  Whyte,  1608. 

Letter  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  January  26,  1608. 
The  King  is  newlie  gon  to  Tibbolles  for  six  daies.  The  Spanish 
Ambassador  has  invited  the  fifteen  Ladies  that  were  of  the 
Queen's  Maske  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Beauty],  to  dinner  upon 
Thursday  next;  and  they  are  to  bring  with  them  whom  they 
please,  without  limitacion.  The  great  Maske  [Jonson's  Hue  and 
Cry  after  Cupid]  intended  for  my  Lord  Hadington's  mariage  is 
now  the  only  thing  thought  upon  at  Court;  by  five  English, 
Lord  Arundell,  Lord  Pembroke,  Lord  Montgomery,  Lord 
Theophilus  Haward,  and  Sir  Robert  Rich;  and  by  seven  Scottes, 
the  Duke  of  Lenox,  D'Aubigny,  Hay,  Master  of  Mar  (yong 
Erskine)  Sanker,  and  Kenedie.  Yt  will  cost  them  about  £.  .300 
a  man. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  175. 
Nichols  incorrectly  dates  the  letter  "February";  the  correct  date 
is  cited  by  Lodge,  Illustrations,  p.  226.] 

Rowland  Whyte,  1608. 

Letter  to  tfye  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  January  29,  1608. 
The  Masque  [of  Beauty]  was  as  well  performed  as  ever  any 
was;  and  for  the  device  of  it,  with  the  Speeches  and  Verses, 
I  had  sent  it  your  Lordship  ere  this,  if  I  could  have  gotten 
those  of  Ben  Jonson.  But  no  sooner  had  he  made  an  end  of 
these,  but  that  he  undertook  a  new  charge  for  the  Masque  [The 
Hue  and  Cry]  that  is  to  be  at  the  Viscount  Hadington's  Mariage. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the*First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  175; 
Nichols  inadvertently  gives  the  date  as  "February."] 

John  Chamberlain,  1608. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  February  n,  1608. 
I  can  send  you  no  perfect  relation  of  the  Marriage  [of  Viscount 
Hadingtbn},  nor  Masque  [The  Hue  and  Cry  after  Cupid]  on 
Tuesday;  only  they  say  all,  but  especially  the  motions  were 
well  performed;  as  Venus,  with  her  chariot  drawn  by  swans, 
coming  in  a  cloud  to  seek  her  Son;  who,  with  his  companions, 
Lusus,  Risus,  and  Jocus,  and  four  or  five  wags,  were  dancing  a 


TO   BEN  JONSON  65 

matachina,  and  acted  it  very  antiquely,  before  the  Twelve 
Signs,  who  were  the  Master-maskers,  descended  from  the 
Zodiac,  and  played  their  parts  more  gravely,  being  very  grace 
fully  attired. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  189; 
cf.  Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1608,  p.  403.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1608. 

21  Aprilis 
Thomas  Thorpe 

Entred  for  his  copie  under  th[e  h]andes  of  Sir  George 
Bucke  and  Th[e]  wardens.     The   Characters  of  Twoo 

Royall  Masks.     Invented  by  Ben.  Johnson.  . vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  375.] 

Title-pages,  1608. 

The  Characters  of  Two  royall  Masques.  The  one  of  Black 
ness,  The  other  of  Beautie.  personated  By  the  most  magnificent 
of  Queenes  Anne  Queene  of  great  Britaine,  &c.  With  her  honor 
able  Ladyes,  1605.  and  1608.  at  Whitehall:  and  Invented  by 
Ben: lonson.  .  .  .  for  Thomas  Thorp. 

The  Description  of  the  Masque.  With  the  Nuptiall  Songs. 
Celebrating  the  happy  Marriage  of  lohn  Ramsey,  Viscount 
Hadington,  with  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Ratcliffe,  Daughter  to  the 
right  Honor:  Robert,  Earle  of  Sussex.  At  Court  On  the  Shrove- 
Tuesday  at  night.  1608.  Devised  by  Ben:  lonson. 

Francis  Beaumont,  1 608-10. 

Mr.  Francis  Beaumonts  Letter  to  Ben.  Johnson,  written  before 
he  and  Mr.  Fletcher  came  to  London,  with  two  of  the  precedent 
Comedies  then  not  finished,  which,  deferred  their  merry  meetings  at 
the  Mermaid. 

The  sun  (which  doth  the  greatest  comfort  bring 
To  absent  friends,  because  the  self  same  thing 
They  know,  they  see,  however  absent)  is 
Here  our  best  hay-maker  (forgive  me  this; 
It  is  our  country's  style:)  in  this  warm  shine 
I  lie,  and  dream  of  your  full  Mermaid  wine. 
6 


66  AN  ALLUSION -BOOK 

Oh,  we  have  water  mixed  with  claret  lees, 

Drink  apt  to  bring  in  drier  heresies 

Than  beer,  good  only  for  the  sonnet's  strain, 

With  fustian  metaphors  to  stuff  the  brain ; 

So  mixed  that,  given  to  the  thirstiest  one, 

Twill  not  prove  alms,  unless  he  have  the  stone: 

I  think  with  one  draught  man's  invention  fades, 

Two  cups  had  quite  spoiled  Homer's  Iliads; 

Tis  liquor  that  will  find  out  Sutcliffe's  wit; 

Lie  where  he  will,  and  make  him  write  worse  yet: 

Filled  with  such  moisture,  in  most  grievous  qualms, 

Did  Robert  Wisdom  write  his  singing  psalms; 

And  so  must  I  do  this;  and  yet  I  think 

It  is  a  potion  sent  us  down  to  drink 

By  special  Providence,  keeps  us  from  fights, 

Make  us  not  laugh  when  we  make  legs  to  knights ; 

'Tis  this  that  keeps  our  minds  fit  for  our  states, 

A  medicine  to  obey  our  magistrates; 

For  we  do  live  more  free  than  you;  no  hate, 

No  envy  at  one  another's  happy  state, 

Moves  us;  we  are  all  equal  every  whit: 

Of  land,  that  God  gives  men  here  is  their  wit, 

If  we  consider  fully;  for  our  best 

And  gravest  man  will  with  his  main  house-jest 

Scarce  please  you ;  we  want  subtilty  to  do 

The  city  tricks,  lie,  hate,  and  flatter  too: 

Here  are  none  that  can  bear  a  painted  show, 

Strike  when  you  wince,  and  then  lament  the  blow: 

Who,  like  mills  set  the  right  way  for  to  grind, 

Can  make  their  gains  alike  with  every  wind ; 

Only  some  fellows,  with  the  subtlest  pate 

Amongst  us,  may  perchance  equivocate 

At  selling  of  a  horse,  and  that's  the  most. 

Methinks  the  little  wit  I  had  is  lost 

Since  I  saw  you ;  for  wit  is  like  a  rest 

Held  up  at  tennis,  which  men  do  the  best 

With  the  best  gamesters.     What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the  Mermaid !  heard  words  that  have  been 


TO   BEN  JONSON  67 

So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtle  flame, 
As  if  that  every  one  from  whence  they  came 
Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest, 
And  had  resolved  to  live  a  fool  the  rest 
Of  his  dull  life ;  then  where  there  hath  been  thrown 
Wit  able  enough  to  justify  the  town 
For  three  days  past :  wit  that  might  warrant  be 
For  the  whole  town  to  talk  foolishly, 
Till  that  were  cancelled ;  and  when  that  was  gone, 
We  left  an  air  behind  us,  which  alone 
Was  able  to  make  the  two  next  companies 
Right  witty:  though  but  downright  fools,  mere  wise: 
When  I  remember  this,  and  see  that  now 
The  country  gentlemen  begin  to  allow 
My  wit  for  dry  bobs,  then  I  needs  must  cry, 
I  see  my  days  of  ballating  grow  nigh ; 
I  can  already  riddle,  and  can  sing 
Catches,  sell  bargains,  and  I  fear  shall  bring 
Myself  to  speak  the  hardest  words  I  find 
Over  as  oft  as  any,  with  one  wind 
That  takes  no  medicines.     But  one  thought  of  thee 
Makes  me  remember  all  these  things  to  be 
The  wit  of  our  young  men,  fellows  that  shew 
No  part  of  good,  yet  utter  all  they  know; 
Who,  like  trees  of  the  gard,  have  growing  souls. 
Only  strong  Destiny,  which  all  controls, 
I  hope  hath  left  a  better  fate  in  store 
For  me,  thy  friend,  than  to  live  ever  poor, 
Banished  unto  this  home.     Fate  once  again 
Bring  me  to  thee,  who  canst  make  smooth  and  plain 
The  way  of  knowledge  for  me,  and  then  I, 
Who  have  no  good  but  in  thy  company, 
Protest  it  will  my  greatest  comfort  be 
To  acknowledge  all  I  have  to  flow  from  thee. 
Ben,  when  these  scenes  are  perfect,  we'll  taste  wine; 
I'll  drink  thy  Muse's  health,  thou  shalt  quaff  mine. 
[Following  The  Nice  Valour  in  the  1647  folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 


68  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Donne,  1608. 

Letter  to  Sir  H[enry]  G[oodyer],  November,  1608. 
The  King  is  gone  this  day  for  Royston,  and  hath  left  the 
Queen  a  commandment  to  meditate  upon  a  masque  for  Christ 
mas,  so  that  they  grow  serious  about  that  already. 

[From  the  Letters  of  John  Donne,  1651.  The  masque  which  resulted 
from  the  King's  "commandment"  was  Jonson's  Masque  of  Queens.} 

Sir  Thomas  Lake,  1608. 

Letter  to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  November  27,  1608. 
His  h.  commanded  me  further  to  advertise  your  lo.  that  where 
he  had  by  my  former  bre".  sent  your  lo.  a  warrant  for  the  maske 
[Jonson's  Masque  of  Queens]  wth  a  blanck  but  limited  the  same 
to  a  thousand  pounds,  he  was  pleased  if  it  were  not  already 
filled  your  lo.  wth  opinion  of  the  rest  of  the  lords  mentioned  in 
the  warrant  might  enlarge  it  to  some  reasonable  encrease  as  you 
should  thinke  meet.  I  moved  his  Mats  thereuppon  that  if  it 
pleased  him  there  might  be  a  new  warrant  made  wth  out  limita 
tion  of  a  somme  but  left  to  such  bylz  as  by  your  Lls  should  be 
signed  and  allowed  His  Mats  seamed  to  like  it  well  and  if  it 
please  your  lo.  to  think  it  a  fitt  way  it  may  be  done. 

[Cited  by  Sullivan,  Court  Masques  of  James  I,  p.  201,  but  wrongly 
dated  1607;  cf.  Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I, 
November  27,  1608,  p.  470,  and  December  I,  1608,  p.  472.] 

Warrant,  1608. 

Warrant  to  issue  to  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  Lord  Chamberlain, 
and  the  Earl  of  Worcester,  Master  of  the  Horse,  such  sums  as 
shall  be  requisite  for  the  preparation  of  a  masque  [Jonson's 
Masque  of  Queens],  to  be  given  by  the  Queen  at  Christmas. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic  Series,  James  I,  December  i,  1608, 
p.  472.  An  itemized  bill  for  materials  used  in  this  masque  may 
be  found  in  Paul  Reyher,  Les  Masques  Anglais,  pp.  507-08,  printed 
from  the  Exchequer  of  Receipt,  Miscellanea,  343,  344,  signed 
by  Suffolk  and  Worcester.] 

Audit  Office  Account,  1609. 

To  Sir  Richardo  Coningesbye  .  .  .for  makeinge  readie  the 
banquettinge  house  at  Whitehall  for  the  maske  [Jonson's  Masque 


TO   BEN  JONSON  69 

of  Queens]  by  the  space  of  fower  dales  menss  Januarii   1608, 
Ixxviij8  viiid. 

[Audit  Office,  Declared  Accounts,  Treasurer  of  the  Chamber,  B.  389,  R.  46.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1609. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  p  [0.5.  Dec.  jo],  1609. 

From  Sunday  last  on  which  day  they  kept  Christmas,  till 
now  the  Court  has  been  entirely  taken  up  with  balls  and  comedies. 
The  Queen  is  deeply  engaged  in  preparing  a  Masque  of  Ladies 
[Jonson's  Masque  of  Queens]  to  wind  up  with.  It  will  be  given 
to-day  week.  She  is  sparing  no  expense  to  make  it  as  fine  as 
possible.  .  .  .  The  Spanish  and  Flemish  Ambassadors  are  now 
manoeuvring  to  be  invited  to  the  Masque.  They  declare  it 
would  be  a  slight  to  the  Embassy-Extraordinary  to  be  left  out. 
On  the  other  hand  the  French  Ambassador,  who  was  omitted 
last  year,  which  produced  some  sharp  words  from  his  Most 
Christian  Majesty,  now  declares  that  he  will  withdraw  from 
Court  if  he  is  not  invited. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  212.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1609. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  15  [0.5.  5],  1609. 

As  the  Ambassadors  of  Spain  and  the  Archdukes  contine  to 
insist  on  being  invited  to  the  Masque  [Jonson's  Masque  of 
Queens],  the  Court  has  announced  that  their  Majestys  wish  the 
French  Ambassador  and  myself  to  be  present.  We  were  in 
formed  of  this  by  many  of  those  who  have  the  King's  ear.  I  hear 
that  his  Majesty  was  anxious  to  dismiss  the  Ambassador-Extra 
ordinary  and  told  the  Queen  so,  who  was  quite  willing;  but  the 
Ambassador  neither  asks  to  take  leave  nor  shows  any  signs 
of  going,  and  so  his  Majesty  has  put  off  the  Masque,  which 
ought  to  have  been  given  to-morrow,  to  the  I2th  of  February, 
the  Feast  of  the  Purification. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  219;  cf.  Nichols,  Progresses  of 
King  James,  ii,  214.] 


yo  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1609. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  22  [O.S.  12],  1609. 

The  Ambassador- Extraordinary  stays  on  here;  he  says  he 
will  not  leave  till  he  has  received  letters  from  Spain.  .  .  .  It  is 
thought  that  he  is  staying  on  to  compel  the  King  to  invite 
him  to  her  Majesty's  Masque  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Queens],  which 
in  consequence  of  this  may  be  put  off  again.  All  the  same  the 
Queen  holds  daily  rehearsals  and  trials  of  the  machinery.  Mean 
time  the  Spanish  Ambassador-in-ordinary  makes  vigorous  efforts 
to  be  invited;  he  puts  in  motion  all  his  supporters  and  uses  the 
Embassy-Extraordinary  as  a  pretext. 

•    [Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  222.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1609. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  February  13  [O.S.  j],  1609. 

Thursday  was  appointed  for  the  Queen's  Masque  [Jonson's 
Masque  of  Queens]. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xi,  231;  the  remainder  of  this  long 
letter,  written  in  cipher,  is  devoted  to  the  quarrels  of  the  am 
bassadors  over  precedence  at  the  masque;  cf.  ibid.,  pp.  233,  236, 
and  253.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1609. 

26*°  Januarij 

Henry  Walleys 

Richard  Bonion 

Entred  for  their  Copye  under  th[e  h]andes  of  master 
Segar  deputy  to  Sir  George  Bucke  and  of  th[e]  wardens 
a  booke  called,  The  case  is  altered vjd 

2  2  do  Februarij 

Richard  Bonion 

Henry  Walley 

Entred  for  their  Copy  under  th[e  hjandes  of  master 
Segar  and  Th'  wardens  a  booke  called,  The  maske  of 
Queenes  Celebrated,  done  by  Beniamin  Johnson vjd 


TO   BEN  JONSON  71 

20  Julij 

Henry  Walley 

Richard  Bonyon 

Bartholomew 

Sutton 

Entred  for  their  copie  by  direction  of  master  Waterson 
warden,  a  booke  called  the  case  is  altered  whiche  was 
Entred  for  H[enry]  Walley  and  Richard  Bonyon  the 

26  of  January  Last vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  400,  402,  416.] 

Title-pages,  1609. 

Ben:  lonson,  his  Case  is  Altered.  As  it  hath  beene  sundry 
times  Acted  by  the  Children  of  the  Blacke-friers.  At  London, 
Printed  for  Bartholomew  Sutton,  .  .  .  1609. 

A  Pleasant  Comedy,  called:  The  Case  is  Altered.  As  it  hath 
beene  sundry  times  acted  by  the  children  of  the  Black-friers. 
Written  by  Ben.  lonson.  London,  printed  for  Bartholomew 
Sutton,  and  William  Barrenger,  .  .  .  1609.  [The  same  sheets, 
issued  with  a  different  title-page.] 

A  Pleasant  Comedy,  called:  The  Case  is  Altered.  As  it  hath 
beene  sundry  times  acted  by  the  children  of  the  Black-friers. 
London,  Printed  for  Bartholomew  Sutton,  and  William  Bar 
renger,  .  .  .  1609.  [Another  issue  of  the  same  sheets,  with  a 
title-page  identical  with  the  preceding  issue  save  that  Jonson's 
name  as  the  author  has  been  omitted.] 

The  Masque  of  Queenes  Celebrated  From  the  House  of  Fame : 
By  the  most  absolute  in  all  State,  And  Titles.  Anne  Queene 
of  Great  Britaine,  &c.  With  her  Honourable  Ladies.  At  White 
Hall,  Feb.  2.  1609.  Written  by  Ben:  lonson.  .  .  .  N.  Okes  for 
R.  Bonian  and  H.  Wally  .  .  .  1609. 

[Jonson's  description  of  this  masque  should  be  supplemented  by  reading 
Harleian  MS.  6947,  f.  143,  printed  in  Paul  Reyher's  Les  Masques 
Anglais,  p.  506.] 

Edmund  Bolton,  1610. 

The  Choise  of  English. — As  for  example,  language  &  style  (the 
apparell  of  matter)  hee  who  would  penn  our  affairs  in  English, 


72  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

and  compose  unto  us  an  entire  body  of  them,  ought  to  have  a 
singuler  cafe  ther  of.  For  albeit  our  tongue  hath  not  received 
dialects,  or  accentuall  notes  as  the  Greeke,  nor  any  certaine  or 
established  rule  either  of  gramer  or  true  writing,  is  notwith 
standing  very  copious,  and  fewe  there  be  who  have  the  most 
proper  graces  thereof,  In  which  the  rule  cannot  be  variable: 
For  as  much  as  the  people's  judgments  are  uncertaine,  the  books 
also  out  of  which  wee  gather  the  most  warrantable  English  are 
not  many  to  my  remembrance,  of  which,  in  regard  they  require  a 
p-ticular  and  curious  tract,  I  forbeare  to  speake  at  this  present. 
But  among  the  cheife,  or  rather  the  cheife,  are  in  my  opinion 
these. 

Sr  Thomas  Moore's  works  some  fewe  outworne  or  antiquated 

words  exepted. 

*         *         *         * 

George  Chapmans  first  seaven  books  of  Iliades. 

Samuell  Danyell. 

Michael  Drayton  his  Heroicall  Epistles  of  England. 

Marlowe  his  excellent  fragment  of  Hero  and  Leander. 

Shakespere,  Mr  Francis  Beamont,  &  innumerable  other  writers 
for  the  stage,  and  presse  tenderly  to  be  used  in  this  Argument. 

Southwell,  Parsons,  &  some  fewe  other  of  that  sort. 

Henry  Constable  a  rare  gentleman. 

Richard  [i.  e.  Thomas]  earle  of  Dorset,  the  myrrour  of  Magis 
trates,  and  his  tragedies  of  Gorboduck. 

Henry  earle 'of  Surrey  and  Sr  Thomas  Wyatt  of  old. 

Henry  earle  of  Northampton,  sonne  of  that  Surrey,  for  some 
fewe  things,  a  man  otherwise  too  exuberent  and  wordfull. 

Grevile  lo.  Brooke  in  his  impious  Mustapha. 

Beniamin  Johnson.     Sr  Henry  Wotton. 

The  learned  and  truely  noble  Sr  John  Beaumont  barronet  in 
all  his  &c.;  and  late  dictionaries,  some  publiq:  speaches,  some 
sermons,  &c. 

[Concerning  Historical  language  and  Style.  An  emendation  of  the  best 
Authors  for  written  English.  Rawlinson  MSS,  Miscel.  i,  p.  13. 
Reproduced  in  Haslewood's  Ancient  Critical  Essays  upon  English 
Poets  and  Poesy,  1815,  ii,  246-47.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  73 

Deposition,  1610. 

Beniamin  Johnson  of  the  precinct  of  the  blackfreiers  London 
gent,  aged  37  yeres  or  theraboutes  sworne  &c. 

[This  deposition,  dated  May  5,  1610,  is  cited  by  C.  W.  Wallace,  Eng- 
lische  Studien,  xliii,  369,  note  2.  It  is  of  importance  for  deter 
mining  the  date  of  Jonson's  birth.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1610. 

2omo  Septembris 

John  Browne 

John  Busby 

Entred  for  their  Copye  under  th[e  hjandes  of  Sir 
George  Bucke  and  master  Waterson  for  master  warden 
Leake,  A  booke  called,  Epicoene  or  the  silent  woman 
by  Ben:  Johnson vjd 

3°  Octobris 
Walter  Burre 

Entred  for  his  Copy  under  th[e  hjandes  of  Sir  George 
Bucke  and  Th 'wardens,  a  Comoedy  called,  The  Alchy- 
mist  made  by  Ben :  Johnson vjd 

Walter  Burre 

Entred  for  his  Copyes  by  assignemente  from  Thomas 
Thorpe  and  with  the  consente  of  Th'wardens  under 
their  handes,  2  bookes  th[e]  one  called,  Seianus  his 

fall,  th[e]  other,  Vulpone  or  theffoxe xijd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  444,  445.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1610. 

Marc1  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  December  2  [O.S.  November  22],  1610. 

The  King  is  pleased  that  at  the  approaching  Christmas  she 
[the  Queen]  should  give  another  Masque  of  Ladies  [Jonson's 
Love  Freed}',  it  will  precede  the  Prince's  Masque,  and  neither 
will  be  so  costly  as  last  year's;  which,  to  say  sooth  were  exces 
sively  costly. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xii,  86.] 


74  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  More,  1610. 

Letter  to  Sir  Ralph  Win-wood,  December  15,  1610. 
I  think  my  Lord  will  be  in  some  paine  even  to  furnish  the 
expence  of  the  approaching  Feast;  yet  doth  the  Prince  make 
but  one  Masque  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Oberon],  and  the  Queen 
but  two  [Jonson's  Love  Freed  from  Ignorance  and  Folly  and 
Love  Restored],  which  doth  cost  her  Majesty  but  £.  600. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  ii,  372.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1610. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  December  31  [O.S.  21],  1610. 

Their  Majesties  are  awaiting  the  Marshall  de  Laverdin,  who 
is  coming  for  the  swearing  of  the  treaty  with  France.  He  can 
not  be  far  away  from  the  sea.  He  will  be  nobly  entertained. 
.  .  .  The  Masques  which  the  Queen  and  Prince  are  preparing 
[Jonson's  Love  Freed  from  Ignorance  and  Oberon}  are  particularly 
directed  to  honour  this  mission. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xii,  101.] 

Edmund  Howes,  1611. 

Uppon  New-yeeres  night,  the  Prince  of  Wales  being  accom- 
panyed  with  twelve  others,  viz.  two  Earles,  three  Barons,  five 
Knights,  and  two  Esquiers,  they  performed  a  very  stately 
Maske  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Oberon],  in  which  was  an  excellent 
Sceane,  ingenious  speeches,  rare  songs,  and  great  varietie  of  most 
delicate  Musique,  in  the  beautifull  roome  at  Whitehall  which 
roome  is  generally  called  the  Banqueting  house. 
[Annales,  or  A  Generall  Chronicle,  1631,  p.  999.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1611. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  14  [O.S.  4],  1611. 

On  Tuesday  the  Prince  gave  his  Masque  [Oberon],  which  was 
very  beautiful  throughout,  very  decorative,  but  most  remarkable 
for  the  grace  of  the  Prince's  every  movement.  .  .  .  The  Queen, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  75 

next  whom  I  sat,  said  that  on  Sunday  next  she  intended  to  give 
her  Masque,  and  she  hoped  the  King  would  invite  me  to  it. 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xii,  106.] 

Accounts  of  Prince  Henry,  1611. 

The  Prynces  Maske. 

Payde  to  sondrye  persons  for  the  chardges  of  a  Maske  pre 
sented  by  the  Prince  before  the  Kinges  matie  on  Newyeres  day  at 

night  beinge  the  first  of  Januarie  1610  [1611].  viz. 

li    xx        s.         d. 
To  Mercers cciiijix     viij         v 

xx 

Sylkemen cciiijxviij      xv       vj 

Haberdashers Ixxiiij     viij     viij 

xx 

Embroderers iiijix     xvj        ix 

Girdelers  and  others  for  skarfes,  beltes  and 

gloves Ixxiiij     viij 

Hosyers  for  silke  stockinges,  poyntes  and 

rybbons xlix     xvj 

Cutler vij      iiij 

Tyrewoman xlij       vj 

Taylors cxliij     xiij       vj 

Shoemaker vj         x 

To  Inigoe  Jones  deyser  for  the  saide  Maske .  xvj 


XX 

In  all M.iiijxij       vj         x 

[From  The  Accompte  of  the  Money  Expended  by  Sir  David  Murray  Kt. 
as  Reaper  of  the  Prime  Purse  to  the  late  Noble  Prynce  Henry,  Prynce 
of  Wales,  reprinted  by  Peter  Cunningham  in  Extracts  from  the 
Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  1842,  pp.  viii-ix.  The  account 
relates  to  Jonson's  Oberon,  the  Fairy  Prince:  A  Masque  of  Prince 
Henry's.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1611. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  21  [O.S.  n],  1611. 

The  Queen's  Masque  [Jonson's  Love  Freed  from  Ignorance  and 
Folly]  is  put  off  to  the  Feast  of  the  Purification ;  either  because 


76  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

the  stage  machinery  is  not  in  order  or  because  their  Majesties 
thought  it  well  to  let  the  Marshall  [de  Laverdin]  depart  first. 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,™,  no.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1611. 

Marc'  Antonio  Correr,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to 
the  Doge  and  Senate,  February  n  [O.S.  i],  1611. 

The  Marshall  [de  Laverdin]  is  hurrying  his  departure,  urged, 
as  he  says,  by  couriers  express;  nothing  keeps  him  but  the 
Queen's  Masque  [Jonson's  Love  Freed],  which  takes  place  the 
day  after  to-morrow. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xii,  115.] 

Exchequer  Accounts,  1611. 
1610 

The  bill  of  account  of  the  hole  charges  of  the  Queen's 

Maia  Maske  at  Chrismas  1610. 
Inprimis,  to  Mr.  Inigo  Johnes,  as  apeareth  by  his  byll, 

238H.  i6s.  lod. 

Item,  to  Mr.  Confesse  upon  his  bill  for  the  12  fooles.  .  i61i.  6s.  6d. 
Item,  to  his  taylour  for  making  the  suites,  as  apeareth  by  his 

bill 81i. 

Item,  for  128  yeardes  of  fustian  to  lyne  theire  coates,  att  lod.  the 

yeard 5li.  6s.  8d. 

Item,  for  87  ownces  of  coper,  lace,  att  i8d.  the  ownce,  and  6 

ownces  at  2od.  the  ownce,  used  for  the  n  preestes  gowndes 

and  hoodes  wth  shues  and  scarffes yli.  4d. 

Item,  for  24  yeardes  of  riband  to  beare  their  lutes,  att  I2d.  the 

yeard,  and  one  dosen  att  3d.  and  half  a  dosen  at  2d.  the 

yeard ili.  8s. 

Item,  to  the  taylour  for  making  those  gowndes  and  hoodes.  .  .4!!. 
Item,  to  the  II  preestes  to  buy  their  silke  stockinges  and  shoues, 

att  2li.  a  peece 22li. 

Item,  for  3  yeardes  of  flesh  collored  satten  for  Cupides  coate  and 

hose  att  143.  the  yeard 2li.  2s. 

Item,  for  26  yeardes  of  callico  to  lyne  the  preestes  hoodes,  att 

2od.  the  yeard 2li.  35.  4d. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  77 

Item,  to  the  taylor  for  making  and  furnishing  of  Cupides  suite 

wth  lace  and  puffs ili.  los. 

Summa 3o81i.  145.  3d. 

Rewardes  to  the  persons  imployed  in  the  maske. 

Inprimis,  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson  for  his  invention 4oli. 

Item,  to  Mr.  Inigo  Johnes  for  his  paynes  and  invention.  .  .  .40!!. 

Item,  to  Mr.  Alfonso  for  making  the  songes 2oli. 

Item,  to  Mr.  Johnson  for  setting  the  songes  to  the  lutes 5li. 

Item,  to  Thomas  Lupo  for  setting  the  dances  to  the  violens.  .5!!. 

Item,  to  Mr.  Confesse  for  teachinge  all  the  dances 5oli. 

To  Mr.  Bochan  for  teaching  the  ladies  the  footing  of  2  danses, 

2oli. 
To  the  12  musitions  that  were  preestes  that  songe  and  played, 

24li. 

Item,  to  the  12  other  lutes  that  suplied,  and  wth  fluites.  .  .  .  I2li. 
Item,  to  the  10  violens  that  contynualy  practized  to  the  Queene, 

2oli. 

Item,  to  4  more  that  were  added  at  the  Maske 4li. 

Item,  to  15  musitions  that  played  to  the  pages  and  fooles.  .2oli. 

Item,  to  13  hoboyes  and  sackbuttes loli. 

Item,  to  5  boyes,  that  is,  3  graces,  sphynkes,  and  cupid.  .  .  .  loli. 

Item,  to  the  12  fooles  that  danced I2li. 

Summa 292!!. 

Summa  totalis  is 6ooli.  145.  3d. 

Whereof  ther  is  receaved 4Ooli. 

So  the  Wardrobe  being  not  yet  discharged  ther  remayns  to  be 
allowed 2ooli.  143.  3d. 

There  was  receaved  from  the  Kinges  Wardrobe  of  Sr  Roger 

Aston— 
Inprimis,  of  severall  collered  taffite  for  12  fooles,  and  3  graces, 

52  ells,  and  a  qrter  att  173.  the  elle 44li.  8s.  3d. 

Item,  of  crimson  taffite  for  the  n  preestes  amounting  to  55  els 

and  Mr.  Confesse  his  coate  being  in  the  number,  at  173.  the 

elle..  46H-  153. 


78  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Item,  of  watched  satten  for  the  preestes  hoodes  and  gorgettes, 
26  yeardes  3  quarters,  att  155.  the  yeard 19!!.  igs.  9d. 

Item,  of  taffite  sarsnett  for  scarffes  to  girde  their  gowndes, 

beinge  18  ells  att  8s.  the  ell 7li.  45. 

Summa 1 1 81i.  75. 

Memorandum,  that  this  last  summe  of  I  i81i.  73.  is  to  be  allowed 
to  Sr  Roger  Aston,  Knight,  over  and  above  the  other  foresayd 
summe  of  6ooli.  145.  3d. 

T.  Suffolke.  E.  Worcester. 

[From  a  document  in  the  Exchequer  Papers,  reprinted  from  the  Pro 
ceedings  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  of  London,  1859-61,  second 
series,  i,  31.  The  bill  relates  to  Jonson's  masque,  Love  Freed  from 
Ignorance  and  Folly.] 

Thomas  Coryat,  1611. 

I  heard  in  Venice  that  a  certaine  Italian  Poet  called  Jacobus 
Sannazarius  had  a  hundred  crownes  bestowed  upon  him  by  the 
Senate  of  Venice  for  each  of  these  verses  following.  I  would  to 
God  my  Poeticall  friend  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson  were  so  well 
rewarded  for  his  Poems  here  in  England,  seeing  he  hath  made 
many  as  good  verses  (in  my  opinion)  as  these  of  Sannazarius. 

[Coryat' s  Crudities,  1611,  p.  159.  Cf.  the  entry  under  "Robert  Lovelacei 
before  1658."] 

Title-page,  1611. 

Catiline  his  Conspiracy.  Written  by  Ben:  lonson.  London, 
Printed  for  Walter  Burre,  .  .  .  1611. 

Francis  Beaumont,  1611. 

To  my  Friend,  Master  Ben  Jonson,  Upon  His  Catiline. 
If  thou  had'st  itched  after  the  wild  applause 
Of  common  people,  and  had'st  made  thy  laws 
In  writing,  such,  as  catched  at  present  voice, 
I  should  commend  the  thing  but  not  thy  choice. 
But  thou  hast  squared  thy  rules  by  what  is  good, 
And  art  three  ages,  yet,  from  understood ; 
And  (I  dare  say)  in  it  there  lies  much  wit 
Lost,  till  the  readers  can  grow  up  to  it. 


TO   BEN   JONSON  79 

Which  they  can  ne'er  out-grow,  to  find  it  ill, 
But  must  fall  back  again,  or  like  it  still. 
[Prefixed  to  Catiline,  1611.] 

John  Fletcher,  1611. 

To  my  Worthy  Friend,  Ben  Jonson,  on  his  Catiline. 
He,  that  dares  wrong  this  play,  it  should  appear 
Dares  utter  more  than  other  men  dare  hear, 
That  have  their  wits  about  them:  yet  such  men, 
Dear  friend,  must  see  your  book,  and  read;  and  then 
Out  of  their  learned  ignorance,  cry  ill, 
And  lay  you- by,  calling  for  mad  Pasquil, 
Or  Green's  dear  Groatsworth,  or  Tom  Coryate, 
Or  the  new  Lexicon,  with  the  errant  pate: 
And  pick  away,  from  all  these  several  ends, 
And  dirty  ones,  to  make  their  as-wise  friends 
Believe  they  are  translators.     Of  this,  pity! 
There  is  a  great  plague  hanging  o'er  the  city; 
Unless  she  purge  her  judgment  presently. 
But,  O  thou  happy  man,  that  must  not  die, 
As  these  things  shall ;  leaving  no  more  behind 
But  a  thin  memory,  like  a  passing  wind 
That  blows,  and  is  forgotten,  ere  they  are  cold. 
Thy  labours  shall  outlive  thee;  and,  like  gold 
Stampt  for  continuance,  shall  be  current  where 
There  is  a  sun,  a  people,  or  a  year. 
[Prefixed  to  Catiline,  1611.] 

Nathaniel  Field,  1611. 

To  his  Worthy  and  Beloved  Friend,  Master  Ben  Jonson, 

on  his  Catiline. 

Had  the  great  thoughts  of  Catiline  been  good, 
The  memory  of  his  name,  stream  of  his  blood, 
His  plots  past  into  acts  (which  would  have  turned 
His  infamy  to  fame,  though  Rome  had  burned), 
Had  not  begot  him  equal  grace  with  men, 
As  this,  that  he  is  writ  by  such  a  pen : 


80  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

Whose  inspirations,  if  great  Rome  had  had, 
Her  good  things  had  been  bettered,  and  her  bad 
Undone;  the  first  for  joy,  the  last  for  fear, 
That  such  a  Muse  should  spread  them  to  our  ear. 
But  woe  to  us  then !  for  thy  laureat  brow 
If  Rome  enjoyed  had,  we  had  wanted  now. 
But  in  this  age,  where  jigs  and  dances  move, 
How  few  there  are  that  this  pure  work  approve. 
Yet  better  than  I  rail  at,  thou  canst  scorn 
Censures  that  die  ere  they  be  thoroughly  born. 
Each  subject,  thou,  still  thee  each  subject  raises, 
And  whosoe'er  thy  book,  himself  dispraises. 
[Prefixed  to  Catiline,  1611.] 

John  Davies  of  Hereford,  1611. 

Some  burden  me,  sith  I  oppresse  the  Stage, 
With  all  the  grosse  Abuses  of  this  Age, 
And  presse  mee  after,  that  the  World  may  see 
(As  in  a  soiled  Glasse)  her  selfe  in  mee. 
Where  each  man  in,  and  out  ofs  humor  pries 
Upon  himselfe;  and  laughs  untill  he  cries. 
Untrussing  humerous  Poets,  and  such  Stuff e 
(As  might  put  plainest  Patience  in  a  Ruffe) 
I  shew  men:  so,  they  see  in  mee  and  Elues 
Themselues  scornd,  and  their  Scorners  scorne  themselves. 

[Papers  Complaint,  1611;  The  Complete  Works  of  John  Davies,  ed.  A.  B. 
Grosart,  1878,  ii,  76.] 

A.  H.,  1611. 

A  generall  Folly  reigneth,  and  harsh  Fate 
Hath  made  the  World  it  selfe  insatiate: 
It  hugges  these  Monsters  and  deformed  things, 
Better  than  what  lonson  or  Drayton  sings. 

[A  Continued  Inquisition  against  Paper-Persecutors,  by  A.  H.,  affixed 
to  John  Davies's  Papers  Complaint,  1611;  The  Complete  Works 
of  John  Davies,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  ii,  80.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  8 1 

John  Davies  of  Hereford,  about  1611. 

To  my  well  accomplish 'd  friend  Mr.  Ben  lohnson. 
I  love  thy  parts,  so,  must  I  love  thy  whole : 
Then,  still  be  whole  in  thy  beloved  parts: 
Th'art  sound  in  body:  but,  some  say  any  soule 
Enuy  doth  ulcer:  yet  corrupted  hearts 
Such  censurers  may  have :  but,  if  thou  bee 
An  envious  soule,  would  thou  could'st  envy  mee. 
But  (ah !)  I  feare  my  vertues  are  too  darke 
For  Enuie's  shadow,  from  so  bright  a  sparke. 
[The  Scourge  of  Folly,  n.  d.,  about  161 1,  Epig.  156.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1612. 

15  Maiii 
Joseph  Stepneth 

Entered  for  his  Copy  under  th'  [h]andes  of  master 
Nydd  and  Th[e]  wardens,  A  booke  called  Ben  Johnson 
his  Epigrams vjd 

28.  Septembris 
Walter  Burre 

Entred  for  his  copie  by  assignement  from  John  Browne 
and  consent  of  the  Wardens  in  full  Court  holden 
this  Day.  A  booke  called  the  Commodye  of  '  the  silent 

Woman  ' vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  485,  498.] 

Title-page,  1612? 

The   Silent   Woman,    a   Comedie,    by    Ben   Jonson.  .  .  .  for 
Walter  Burre,  1612. 

[No  copy  of  a  1612  quarto  of  this  play  is  now  known,  yet  it  seems 
probable  that  the  play  was  printed  in  this  year.     It  was  entered 
in  the  Stationers'  Registers  on  September  20,  1610,  and  on  Sep 
tember  28,   1612,  was  transferred  to  Walter  Burre,  presumably 
1  for  the  edition  conjecturally  described  above.     William  Gifford 

positively  states  that  he  had  seen  a  quarto  of  1612.  Its  existence 
is  indicated  by  Francis  Beaumont's  commendatory  poem  (see  the 
following  entry),  written  before  Beaumont's  death  in  1616,  and 
included  in  the  Jonson  folio  of  1616,  which  reprints  certain  com 
mendatory  poems  from  earlier  quartos.] 
7 


82  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Francis  Beaumont,  1612? 

On  the  Silent  Woman. 

Hear,  you  bad  writers,  and  though  you  not  see, 
I  will  inform  you  where  you  happy  be : 
Provide  the  most  malicious  thoughts  you  can, 
And  bend  them  all  against  some  private  man, 
To  bring  him,  not  his  vices,  on  the  stage; 
Your  envy  shall  be  clad  in  some  poor  rage, 
And  your  expressing  of  him  shall  be  such, 
That  he  himself  shall  think  he  hath  no  touch. 
Where  he  that  strongly  writes,  although  he  mean 
To  scourge  but  vices  in  a  laboured  scene, 
Yet  private  faults  shall  be  so  well  exprest, 
As  men  do  act  'em,  that  each  private  breast, 
That  finds  these  errors  in  itself,  shall  say, 
He  meant  me,  not  my  vices,  in  the  play. 
[Prefixed  to  The  Silent  Woman,  which  apparently  was  printed  in  1612. 

Title-page,  1612. 

The  Alchemist.  Written  by  Ben.  lonson.  .  .  .  London, 
Printed  by  Thomas  Snodham,  for  Walter  Burre,  and  are  to  be 
sold  by  lohn  Stepneth,  .  .  .  1612. 

George  Lucy,  1612. 

To  my  Friend  Mr.  Ben  Jonson,  Upon  His  Alchemist. 
A  master,  read  in  flattery's  great  skill, 
Could  not  pass  truth,  though  he  would  force  his  will, 
By  praising  this  too  much,  to  get  more  praise 
In  his  art,  than  you  out  of  yours  do  raise. 
Nor  can  full  truth  be  uttered  of  your  worth, 
Unless  you  your  own  praises  do  set  forth : 
None  else  can  write  so  skilfully,  to  shew 
Your  praise:  Ages  shall  pay,  yet  still  must  owe. 
All  I  dare  say,  is,  you  have  written  well ; 
In  what  exceeding  height,  I  dare  not  tell. 
[Prefixed  to  The  Alchemist,  1612.] 


TO   BEN   JONSON  83 

John  Webster,  1612. 

To  the  Reader. 

I  have  ever  truly  cherisht  my  good  opinion  of  other  mens 
worthy  labours;  especially  of  that  full  and  haightned  stile  of 
Maister  Chapman,  the  labor'd  and  understanding  workes  of 
Maister  Johnson,  the  no  lesse  worthy  composures  of  both  worth 
ily  excellent  Maister  Beaumont,  &  Maister  Fletcher,  and  lastly 
(without  wrong  last  to  be  named)  the  right  happy  and  copious 
industry  of  M.  Shake-speare,  M.  Decker,  &  M.  Heywood;  wish 
ing  what  I  write  may  be  read  by  their  light;  protesting  that,  in 
the  strength  of  mine  owne  judgement,  I  know  them  so  worthy, 
that  though  I  rest  silent  in  my  owne  worke,  yet  to  most 
of  theirs  I  dare  (without  flattery)  fix  that  of  Martiall :  non  norunt 
haec  monumenta  mori. 

[The  White  Devil,  1612.] 

S.  R.,  1612. 

In  Vulponem. 

The  Fox  is  earthed  now  in  the  ground, 
Who  living,  fear'd  not  home  nor  hound, 
That  kept  the  Huntsmen  at  a  bay, 
Before  their  faces  ceaz'd  his  prey. 
Of  whose  successeful  thriving  wit, 
Bookes  have  beene  made,  and  playes  beene  writ, 
That  prey'd  on  Mallard,  Plover,  Ducke, 
And  ever  Scap'd  by  craft  or  lucke: 
Yet  now  hee's  gone:  what  though  behinde, 
Are  Cubbes  too  many  of  his  kinde? 
Who  whilst  by  death  hee's  kept  away, 
Will  make  a  purchase  of  his  prey. 
.     And  when  the  old  he  left  is  gone, 
Will  finde  out  more  to  worke  upon. 
In  Skinners  shops,  though  some  appeare, 
Tis  long  before  the  last  comes  there. 

[The  Cur taine-D rawer  of  the  World,  1612;  reprinted  in  A.  B.  Grosart, 
;  Unique  or  Very  Rare  Books,  1876,  iii,  58.] 


84  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Taylor,  1612. 

To  my  deere  respected  friend,  Maister  Benjamin  Johnson. 
Thou  canst  not  dye  for  though  the  stroake  of  death 
Deprives  the  world  of  thy  worst  earthly  part : 
Yet  when  thy  corps  hath  banished  thy  breath, 
Thy  living  Muse  shall  still  declare  thy  Art. 
The  fa  tall  Sisters  and  the  blessed  Graces, 
Were  all  thy  friends  at  thy  Nativitie : 
And  in  thy  mind  the  Muses  tooke  their  places, 
Adoring  thee  with  rare  capacitie. 
And  all  the  Worthies  of  this  worthy  Land, 
Admires  thy  wondrous  all-admired  worth, 
Then  how  should  I  that  cannot  understand 
Thy  worth,  thy  worthy  worthinesse  set  forth? 
Yet  beare  the  boldnesse  of  the  honest  Sculler, 
Whose  worthlesse  praise  can  fill  thy  praise  no  fuller. 
[The  Sculler,  1612,  reprinted  in  1614  as  Taylors  Water-Worke,  and  in 
cluded  in  the  Folio  of  1630;  see  the  Spenser  Society's  reprint  of  the 
Folio,  p.  498.] 

Treasurer's  Accounts,  1613. 

Item,  paid  to  the  said  John  Hemings,  2oth  May,  1613,  for 
presenting  six  several  plays,  viz.,  one  play  called  A  bad  beginning 
makes  a  good  ending;  one  other,  called  The  Captain;  one  The 
Alchemist;  one  other  Cardano;  one  other  Hotspur;  one  other 
Benedicite  and  Bettris;  all  played  in  the  time  of  this  account. 
Paid  40  pounds,  and  by  way  of  his  Majesty's  reward  20  pounds 
more £  60. 

[Extract  from  the  Accounts  of  Lord  Harrington,  Treasurer  of  the  Chamber 
to  King  James  I;  in  The  Shakespeare  Society's  Papers,  1845,  ii,  125.] 

Henry  Parrott,  1613. 

Cignus  per  plumas  Anser. 
Put  off  thy  buskins,  Sophocles  the  great, 

And  mortar  tread  with  thy  disdained  shanks. 
Thou  thinkst  thy  skill  hath  done  a  wondrous  feat, 

For  which  the  world  should  give  thee  many  thanks. 


TO   BEN   JONSON  85 

Alas !  it  seems  thy  feathers  are  but  loose 
Pluckt  from  a  swan,  and  set  upon  a  goose. 
[Laquei  Ridiculosi,  or  Springes  for  Woodcocks,  1613,  Epigram  163.] 

Robert  Daborne,  1613. 

Letter  to  Philip  Henslowe,  August,  1613. 

I  pray  sr  let  ye  boy  giv  order  this  night  to  the  stage  keep  to 
set  up  bills  agst  munday  for  Eastward  hoe  &  one  wendsday  the 
New  play. 

[Henslowe  Papers,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1907,  p.  70.] 

Robert  Daborne,  1613. 

Letter  to  Philip  Henslowe,  November  13,  1613. 
Sr  yr  man  was  wth  me,  whoe  found  me  wrighting  the  last 
scean,  which  I  had  thought  to  have  brought  yu  to  night,  but  it 
will  be  late  ear  I  can  doe  it;  &  being  satterday  night,  my  occa- 
tion  urges  me  to  request  yu  spare  me  x  s.  more,  &  for  yr  mony, 
if  yu  please  not  to  stay  till  Johnsons  play  [Bartholomew  Fair]  be 
playd,  the  Kings  men  hav  bin  very  earnest  wth  me  to  pay  yu 
in  yr  mony  for  yr  curtesy,  whearin  yu  shall  have  30  s.  proffit  wth 
many  thanks.  .  .  . 

Sater  No  13  ever  at  yr  comand 

1613  Rob:  Daborne 

[Henslowe  Papers,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  1907,  p.  78.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1613. 

Letter  to  Mrs.  Alice  Carleton,  December  30,  1613. 
I  hear  little  or  no  commendation  of  the  Masque  [Jonson's 
Irish  Masque]  made  by  the  Lords  that  night,  either  for  device  or 
dancing,  only  it  was  rich  and  costly. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  ii,  725.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1614. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  5,  1614. 

IThe  loftie  maskers  were  so  well  liked  at  court  the  last  week 
:hat  they  were  appointed  to  performe  yt  [The  Irish  Masque] 


86  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

again  on  monday  yet  theyre  devise  (wch  was  a  enimicall  imitation 
of  t[he]  Irish)  was  not  so  pleasing  to  many,  wch  thincke  [this] 
no  time  (as  the  case  stands)  to  exasperat  that  nat[ion]  by  making 
.  it  ridiculous. 

[State  Papers,  Domestic  Series,  James  I,  Ixxvi,  no.  2.  For  payments 
for  this  masque,  see  Ixxv,  nos.  32,  33;  cf.  also  no.  53.  See  Howes's 
Continuation  of  Stow's  Annales,  1631,  p.  1005.] 

John  Selden,  1614. 

I  presume  I  have  sufficiently  manifested  the  contrarie,  and 
answerd  their  urged  Autorities,  producing  also  one  out  of  Euri 
pides  his  Orestes,  seeming  stranger  against  my  part  then  anie 
other:  which,  when  I  was  to  use,  and  having  not  at  hand  the 
Scholiast  ...  I  went,  for  this  purpose,  to  see  it  in  the  well- 
furnisht  Librarie  of  my  beloved  friend  that  singular  Poet  M. 
Ben:  lonson,  whose  speciall  Worth  in  Literature,  accurat  Judg 
ment,  and  Performance,  known  only  to  that  Few  which  are  truly 
able  to  know  him,  hath  had  from  me,  ever  since  I  began  to 
learn,  an  increasing  admiration. 

[Titles  of  Honor,  1614,  Preface,  sig.  d,  recto.] 

Treasurer's  Accounts,  1614. 

To  Joseph  Taylor  for  himselfe  and  the  reste  of  his  fellowes 
servauntes  to  the  Lady  Eliz  her  grace  upon  the  Councells  War- 
raunt  dated  at  Whitehall  21  June  1614  for  presenting  before  his 
Maty  a  Comedy  called  Eastward  Howe  on  the  xxvth  of  January 
last  past — vjn.  xiijs.  iiijd.  and  by  way  of  his  Mats  reward  lxvjs. 
viijd.  In  all  x11. 

[From  the  Office  Books  of  the  Treasurers  of  the  Chamber;  reproduced  in 
Extracts  from  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  by  Peter  Cunning 
ham,  1842,  p.  xliv.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1614. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  December  i,  1614. 
And  yet  for  all  this  penurious  world  we  speake  of  a  maske 
[Jonson's  Mercury   Vindicated]  this  Christmas  toward  wch  the 
K.  geves  1500  £.  the  principall  motive  whereof  is  thought  to  be 
the  gracing  of  younge  Villers  and  to  bring  him  on  the  stage. 
[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  Ixxviii,  no.  65.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  87 

Pipe  Office  Records,  1614-15. 

Canvas  for  the  Boothes  and  other  necessaries  for  a  play  called 
Bartholmewe  Faire. 

[Pipe  Office,  2805  (1614-1615);    reproduced  in  Reyher's  Les  Masques 
Anglais,  1909,  p.  382,  note  2.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1615. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  5,  1615. 
To-morrow  night  there  is  a  Masque  [Jonson's  Mercury  Vindi 
cated]  at  Court;  but  the  common  voice  and  preparations  promise 
so  little,  that  it  breeds  no  great  expectation. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  27.] 

John  Finett,  1615. 

The  5.  of  January  1614.  The  Earl  of  Sommerset  .  .  .  gave 
me  directions  to  invite  the  Spanish  and  the  Venetian  [Ambassa 
dors]  ...  to  a  Maske  of  Gentlemen  [Jonson's  Mercury  Vindi 
cated]  set  forth  at  the  charge  of  his  Majesty,  and  to  come  at  an 
houre,  about  six  in  the  Evening  to  a  Supper  that  should  be  pre 
pared  for  them  in  the  Councel  Chamber.  They  both  .  .  . 
accepted  the  Invitation,  and  came  the  next  day  at  the  time 
appointed.  A  little  before  Supper,  the  Spanish  Ambassador 
taking  me  aside,  desired  me  to  deale  freely  with  him,  &  to  tel 
him  whether  Sir  Noell  Car  on,  the  States  Ambassador  were  in 
vited,  and  if  invited,  what  place  was  intended  him,  whether  in 
publique  neere  his  Majesty,  or  in  private  in  some  Corner  of  the 
Roome?  [Following  a  heated  discussion  which  resulted  later 
from  the  presence  of  the  Ambassador  from  Holland  at  the 
masque,  the  Spaniard  finally  withdrew  followed  by  the  latter, 
who  was  requested  by  James  to  leave,  in  order  that  it  might  not 
be  said  that  preference  was  given  Holland  over  Spain.  The 
withdrawal  of  these  two  left  the  Venetian  Ambassador  alone  in 
the  place  of  honor.]  .  .  .  The  Venetian  Ambassador  as  soone  as 
the  Spanish  was  departed,  was  conducted  by  me  into  the  second 
Roome  from  the  privie  Gallerie,  and  there  attending  till  his 
Majesty  and  the  Queene  came,  went  along  with  them,  and  was 
seated  on  the  left  hand  of  the  King,  beneath  the  Queene,  and  the 


88  AN    ALLUSION-BOOK 

Prince  on  the  right.  At  the  same  time  the  Agent  of  Florence 
.  .  .  supped  also  in  the  Councell  Chamber,  and  followed  the 
King  to  the  Maske  with  the  Venetian,  but  having  been  ordained 
his  seate  in  one  of  the  Galleries,  he  intrea'ted  me  to  moove  the 
Lord  Chamberlaine,  that  (as  he  understood  the  great  Duke  his 
Masters  Agent,  and  the  Duke  of  Savoyes  had  been)  he  might 
be  placed  among  the  Lords,  which  was  assented  to,  and  he  was 
placed  .  .  .  beneath  the  lowest  Baron  the  Lord  Mordant,  and 
above  Sir  Thomas  Howard  second  Son  to  the  Lord  Treasurer. 
[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  19-24.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1615. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  12,  1615. 
The  only  matter  I  can  advertise  since  I  wrote  the  last  week  is 
the  success  of  the  masque  [Jonson's  Mercury  Vindicated]  on 
Twelfth-night,  which  was  so  well  liked  and  applauded  that  the 
king  had  it  represented  again  the  Sunday  night  after,  in  the  very 
same  manner,  though  neither  in  device  nor  show  was  there  any 
thing  extraordinary,  but  only  excellent  dancing,  the  choice  being 
made  of  the  best,  both  English  and  Scots. 

[The  Court  and  Times  of  James  the  First,  1849,  i,  356.     The  remainder 
of  this  long  letter  concerns  the  quarrel  of  the  ambassadors.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1615. 

Antonio  Foscarini,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the 
Doge  and  Senate,  January  23  [0.5.  jj],  1615. 

After  I  had  written  my  last,  I  was  invited  by  the  king  to  the 
masque  [Mercury  Vindicated]  which  was  danced  on  the  following 
evening  in  the  great  hall. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xiii,  317.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1615. 

20  Januarij  1614. 
William  Stansbye 

Entred   for  his  Coppie  under  the  handes  of  master 
Tavernour  and  both   the  wardens   Certayne  Masques 
at  the  Court  never  yet  printed  written  by  Ben  Johnson  .  vjd 
[Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  562.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  89 

John  Selden,  1615. 

Letter  to  Ben  Jonson,  February  28,  1615. 

.  .  .  With  regard  to  what  the  Greeks  and  Latins  have  of 
Adargatis,  Derceto,  Atargata,  Derce  (all  one  name)  &c.  you 
best  know,  being  most  conversant  in  the  recondite  parts  of 
human  learning;  ...  [he  concludes,  after  a  variety  of  extracts 
from  the  Hebrew,  Syriac,  Greek,  &c. :]  In  the  connexion  of  these 
no  vulgar  observations,  if  they  had  been  to  a  common  learned 
reader,  there  had  been  often  room  for  divers  pieces  of  theology 
dispersed  in  Latin  and  Greek  authors,  and  fathers  of  the  Church, 
but  your  own  most  choice  and  able  store  cannot  but  furnish  you 
with  whatever  is  fit  that  way  to  be  thought.  Whatever  I  have 
here  collected,  I  consecrate  to  your  love,  and  end  with  hope  of 
your  instructing  judgment. 

[An  extract  from  a  long  letter  of  eight  folio  pages;  from  the  Gifford- 
Cunningham  ed.  of  Jonson,  1871,  i,  xxxviii.] 

Treasurer's  Accounts,  1615. 

To  Nathan  Feilde  in  the  behalfe  of  himselfe  and  the  rest  of 
his  fellows  upon  the  Lord  Chamberleynes  Warraunt  dated  n 
June  1615  for  presenting  a  playe  called  Bartholomewe  Fayre 
before  his  Matie  on  the  first  of  November  last  past  xn. 

[From  the  Office  Books  of  the  Treasurers  of  the  Chamber;  in  Extracts 
from  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  by  Peter  Cunningham, 
1842,  p.  xliv.] 

Thomas  Coryat,  1615. 

A  Letter  from  the  Court  of  the  Great  Mogul,  resident  at  the  Towne 
of  Asmere  in  the  Eastern  India,  on  Michaelmas  day.  Anno  1615. 

Pray  remember  my  commendations  with  all  respect  to  M. 
Williams  the  goldsmith  and  his  wife ;  and  to  Beniamin  lohnson, 
and  to  reade  this  letter  to  them  both.  .  .  . 

[Thomas  Coriate  Traveller  for  the  English  Wits,  1616,  sig.  L  7,  verso.] 

Thomas  Coryat,  1615. 

To  the  High  Seneschall  of  the  Right  Worshipfull  Fraternitie  of 
Sireniacall  Gentlemen,  that  meete  the  first  Friday  of  every  moneth, 


90  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

at  the  signe  of  the  Mermaid  in  Bread-street  in  London:  From  the 
Court  of  the  Great  Mogoll,  resident  at  the  Towne  of  Asmere,  in  the 
Easterne-India.  November  8, 


Pray  remember  the  recommendations  of  my  dutifull  respect; 
to  all  those  whose  names  I  have  heere  expressed,  being  the  lovers 
of  Vertue,  and  Literature;  and  so  consequently  the  wel-willers 
(I  hope)  of  a  properous  issue  of  my  designements,  in  my  laborious 
pedestriall  perambulations  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe.  .  .  . 
In  primis,  to  the  two  Ladies  Varney,  .  .  . 

2  Item,  to  that  famous  Antiquarie,  Sir  Robert  Gotten,  .  .  . 

3  Item,  .  .  .  Master  William  Ford,  .  .  . 

4  Item,  to  Master  George  Speake,  .  .  . 

5  Item,  to  Master  John  Donne,  .  .  . 

6  Item,  to  Master  Richard  Martin,  .  .  . 

7  Item,  to  Master  Christopher  Brooke,  .  .  . 

8  Item,  to  Master  John  Hoskins,  .  .  . 

9  Item,  to  Master  George  Garrat,  .  .  . 

10  Item,  to  Master  William  Hackwell,  .  .   . 

11  Item,  to  Master  Beniamin  Johnson  the  Poet,  at  his  Cham 
ber  at  the  Black-Friers. 

12  Item,  to  Master  John  Bond,  .  .  . 

13  Item,  to  Master  Doctor  Mocket,  .  .  . 

14  Item,  to  Master  Samuel  Purchas,  .  .  . 

[From  Purchas  his  Pilgrimes,  1625,  Part  i,  pp.  595-97.] 

R.  C.,  about  1615. 

lohnson  they  say's  turnd  Epigrammatist, 
Soe  think  not  I,  believe  it  they  that  list. 
Peruse  his  booke,  thou  shalt  not  find  a  dram 
Of  witt  befitting  a  true  Epigram. 
Perhaps  some  scraps  of  play-bookes  thou  maist  see. 
Collected  heer  &  there  confusedlie, 
Which  piece  his  broken  stuffe;   if  thou  but  note, 
lust  like  soe  many  patches  on  a  cote. 
And  yet  his  intret  Cato  sta[n]ds  before, 
Even  at  the  portall  of  his  pamphlets  dore; 


TO   BEN  JONSON  91 

As  who  should  say,  this  booke  is  fit  for  none 

But  Catoes,  learned  men,  to  looke  upon: 

Or  else,  let  Cato  censure  if  he  will, 

My  booke  deserves  the  best  of  iudgement  still. 

When  every  gull  may  see  his  booke's  untwitten, 

And  Epigrams  as  bad  as  e're  were  written. 

lohnson,  this  worke  thy  other  doth  distaine, 
And  makes  the  world  imagine  that  thy  vein 
Is  not  true  bred  but  of  some  bastard  race. 
Then  write  no  more,  or  write  with  better  grace; 
Turne  thee  to  plaies,  &  therin  write  thy  fill ; 
Leave  Epigrams  to  artists  of  more  skill. 

[The  Times'  Whistle,  ed.  J.  M.  Cowper,  1871,  p.  132.  The  author  was 
probably  Richard  Corbet.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

Shake-speare  was  god-father  to  one  of  Ben  Jonson's  children, 
and  after  the  christ'ning,  being  in  a  deepe  study,  Jonson  came 
to  cheere  him  up,  and  ask't  him  why  he  was  so  melancholy? 
"  No,  faith,  Ben,  (sayes  he)  not  I,  but  I  have  been  considering 
a  great  while  what  should  be  the  fittest  gift  for  me  to  bestow 
upon  my  god-child,  and  I  have  resolv'd  at  last."  "  I  pr'y  the, 
what?  "  sayes  he.  "  I'  faith,  Ben,  Tie  e'en  give  him  a  douzen 
good  Lattin  Spoones,  and  thou  shalt  translate  them." 

[This  tradition,  elsewhere  recorded,  is  here  cited  from  Sir  Nicholas 
L'Estrange,  Merry  Passages  and  Jests,  Harl.  MS.  6395,  ed.  W.  J. 
Thorns,  Camden  Society,  1839,  p.  2.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

Ben  Johnson,  at  the  Christning  of  Shakespeare  his  child,  to 
which  he  was  invited  god-father,  said  to  him — '  Now  you  expect 
a  great  matter.  But  I  will  give  it  a  Latin  (latten)  spoon,  and 
you  shall  translate  it.' 

[From  the  Plume  MSS.,  number  25,  leaf  161.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

Mr  Ben:  Johnson  and  Mr  Wm.  Shake-speare  Being  Merrye 
at  a  Tavern  Mr  Jonson  haveing  begune  this  for  his  Epitaph 


92  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Here  lies  Ben  Johnson  that  was  once  one  he  gives  ytt  to  Mr 
Shakspear  to  make  upp  who  presently  wrightes 

Who  while  hee  liv'de  was  a  sloe  thing 
and  now  being  dead  is  Nothinge. 

[Ashmolean  MSS.,  vol.  38,  p.  181,  reproduced  in  J.  O.  Halliwell's  Life 
of  Shakespeare,  1848,  p.  186.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

B.  Johnson  in  seipsum. 
Heere  lies  Johnson, 
Who  was  ones  sonne : 
He  had  a  little  hayre  on  his  chin, 
His  name  was  Benjamin ! 

[Quoted  from  "an  early  MS.  commonplace  book,"  by  J.  O.  Halliwell, 
Life  of  Shakespeare,  1848,  p.  186.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

'  Here  lies  Ben  Johnson — who  was  once  one.' 
This  he  made  of  himself.     Shakspere  took  the  pen  from  him 
and  made  this: 

1  Here  lies  Benjamin — with  short  hair  upon  his  chin — 
Who,  while  he  lived,  was  a  slow  thing, — 
And  now  he's  dead  is  nothing.' 
[From  the  Plume  MSS.,  number  25,  leaf  77  from  end  A.] 

Tradition,  before  1616. 

Verses  by  Ben  Jonson  and  Shakespeare,  occasioned  by  the 
motto  to  the  Globe  Theatre — Totus  mundus  agit  histrionem. 

Jonson 

If,  but  stage  actors,  all  the  world  displays, 
Where  shall  we  find  spectators  of  their  plays? 

Shakespeare 

Little,  or  much,  of  what  we  see,  we  do; 
We  are  all  both  actors  and  spectators  too. 

[Choice  Notes  from  William  Oldys'  manuscript  Adversaria,  in  Notes 
and  Queries,  Series  2,  vol.  xi,  p.  184.  The  quotation  is  said  to  be 
from  "Poetical  Characteristicks,  8vo.  MS.,  vol.  I,  sometime  in  the 
Harleian  library;  which  volume  was  returned  to  its  owners."] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  93 

John  Finett,  1616. 

The  King  being  desirous,  that  the  French,  Venetian,  and 
Savoyard  Ambassadors  should  all  be  invited  to  a  Maske  [Jonson's 
Golden  Age  Restored]  at  Court  prepared  for  New-years  night,  an 
exception  comming  from  the  French,  was  a  cause  of  deferring 
their  invitation  till  Twelfe  night,  when  the  Maske  was  to  be 
re-acted.  This  French  Ambassador  having  demanded  Audience 
by  the  mediation  of  the  Lord  Haye,  and  not  obtained  it  as  he 
affected  .  .  .  was  offended  that  the  Spanish  Ambassador  .  .  . 
should  have  ...  an  Audience  before  him.  With  this  considera 
tion,  and  not  without  his  Majesties  sence  of  such  formality,  he 
was  not  invited  till  for  the  Twelfe  night,  when  he  with  the  other 
two  mentioned  were  received  at  eight  of  the  Clock,  the  houre 
assigned  (no  Supper  being  prepared  for  them,  as  at  other  times 
to  avoid  the  trouble  incident)  and  were  conducted  to  the  privy 
Gallery  by  the  Lord  Chamberlaine,  and  the  Lord  Danvers 
appointed  ...  to  accompany  them,  the  Master  of  the  Cere 
monies  being  also  present. 

They  were  all  there  placed  at  the  Maske  on  the  Kings  right 
hand  .  .  .  first  and  next  to  the  King  the  French,  next  him  the 
Venetian,  and  next  him  the  Savoyard.  At  his  Majesties  left 
hand  sate  the  Queene,  and  next  her  the  Prince.  The  Maske 
being  ended,  they  followed  his  Majesty  to  a  Banquet  in  the 
Presence,  and  returned  by  the  way  they  entered. 
[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  31-32.] 

William  Browne,  1616. 

Jonson,  whose  full  of  merit  to  rehearse 
Too  copious  is  to  be  confin'd  in  verse; 
Yet  therein  only  fittest  to  be  known, 
Could  any  write  a  line  which  he  might  own. 
One  so  judicious,  so  well  knowing,  and 
A  man  whose  least  worth  is  to  understand ; 
One  so  exact  in  all  he  doth  prefer 
To  able  censure;  for  the  theatre 
Not  Seneca  transcends  his  worth  of  praise ; 
Who  writes  him  well  shall  well  deserve  the  bays. 
[Britannia's  Pastorals,  1616,  Bk.  ii,  Song  ii.] 


94 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 


George  Gerrard,  1616. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  June  14,  1616. 
The  King  feasted  by  Alderman  Cockayne  and  the  new  Com 
pany  of  Merchant  Adventurers,  who  gave  him  i,ooo/.  in  a  basin 
and  ewer  of  gold.     Dyers,  cloth  dressers,  with  their  shuttles, 
and  Hamburgians,  were  presented  to  the  King,  "  and  spake  such 
language  as  Ben  Jonson  putt  in  theyre  mouthes." 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1616,  p.  373.] 

Ab[raham]  Holl[and],  1616. 
Johnsoni  typus,  ecce!  qui  furoris, 
Antistes  sacer,  Enthei,  Camenis, 
Vindex  Ingenij  recens  Sepulti, 
Antiquae  reparator  unus  artis, 
Defuncta  Pater  Eruditionis, 
Et  Scenae  veteris  novator  audax. 
Nee  fcelix  minus,  aut  minus  politus 
Cui  solus  similis,  Figura,  vivet. 

O  could  there  be  an  art  found  out  that  might 
Produce  his  shape  soe  lively  as  to  write. 

[Lines  beneath  the  engraved  portrait  prefixed  to  the  1616  (and  1640) 
folio  of  Jonson's  Workes.  The  portrait  seems  also  to  have  been 
printed  and  sold  separately,  since  it  has  below  it  the  statement 
"Are  to  be  Sould  by  William  Peake."] 

Title-page,  1616. 

The  Workes  of  Beniamin  Jonson  .  .  .  Imprinted  at  London 
by  William  Stansby,  Ano.  D.  1616. 

[This  title-page  is  elaborately  engraved  by  William  Hole.] 

John  Selden,  1616. 

Ad  V.  Cl.  Ben  Jonsonium,  Carmen  Protrepticon. 
Raptam  Threicii  lyram  Neanthus 
Pulset;  carmina  circulis  Palaemon 
Scribat;  qui  manibus  facit  deabus 
Illotis,  metuat  Probum.     Placere 
Te  doctis  juvat  auribus,  placere 


TO    BEN   JONSON  95 

Te  raris  juvat  auribus.     Camaenas 
Cum  totus  legerem  tuas  (Camaenae 
Nam  totum  rogitant  tuae,  nee  ullam 
Qui  pigre  trahat  oscitationem, 
Lectorem)  et  numeros,  acumen,  artem. 
Mirum  judicium,  quod  ipse  censor, 
Jonsoni,  nimium  licet  malignus, 
Si  doctus  simul,  exigat,  viderem, 
Sermonem  et  nitidum,  facetiasque 
Dignas  Mercurio,  novasque  gnomas 
Morum  sed  veterum,  tuique  juris 
Quicquid  dramaticum  tui  legebam, 
Tarn  semper  fore,  tamque  te  loquutum, 
Ut  nee  Lemnia  notior  sigillo 
Tellus,  nee  macula  sacrandus  Apis, 
Non  cesto  Venus,  aut  comis  Apollo, 
Quam  musa  fueris  sciente  notus, 
Quam  musa  fueris  tua  notatus, 
Ilia,  quae  unica,  sidus  ut  refulgens, 
Stricturas,  superat  comis,  minorum : 
In  mentem  subiit  Stolonis  illud, 
Lingua  Pieridas  fuisse  Plauti 
Usuras,  Ciceronis  atque  dictum, 
Saturno  genitum  phrasi  Platonis, 
Musae  si  Latio,  Jovisque  Athenis 
Dixissent.     Fore  jam  sed  hunc  et  illas 
Jonsoni  numeros  puto  loquutos, 
Anglis  si  fuerint  utrique  fati. 
Tarn,  mi,  tu  sophiam  doces  amoene 
Sparsim  tamque  sophos  amcena  sternis! 
Sed,  tot  delicias,  minus  placebat, 
Sparsis  distraherent  tot  in  libellis 
Cerdoi  caculae.     Volumen  unum, 
Quod  seri  Britonum  terant  nepotes, 
Optabam,  et  thyasus  chorusque  amantum 
Musas  hoc  cupiunt,  tui  laborum 
Et  quicquid  reliquum  est,  adhuc  tuisque 
Servatum  pluteis.     Tibi  at  videmur 


AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

Non  tarn  quaerere  quam  parare  nobis 
Laudem,  dum  volumus  palam  merentis 
Tot  laurus  cupidi  reposta  scripta; 
Dum  secernere  te  tuasque  musas 
Audemus  numero  ungulse  liquorem 
Gustante,  et  veteres  novem  sorores 
Et  Sirenibus  et  solent  cicadis: 
Dum  et  secernere  posse  te  videmur, 
Efflictum  petimus  novumque  librum, 
Qui  nullo  sacer  haut  petatur  aevo, 
Qui  nullo  sacer  exolescat  sevo, 
Qui  curis  niteat  tuis  secundis; 
Ut  nos  scire  aliquid  simul  putetur. 
Atqui  hoc  macte  sies,  velutque  calpar, 
Quod  diis  inferium,  tibi  sacremus, 
Ut  nobis  bene  sit;  tuamque  frontem 
Perfundant  ederae  recentiores 
Et  splendor  novus.     Invident  coronam 
Hanc  tantam  patriae  tibique  (quanta 
/Eternum  a  merito  tuo  superbum 
Anglorum  genus  esse  possit  olim) 
Tantum  qui  penitus  volunt  amoenas 
Sublatas  literas,  timentve  lucem 
lonsoni  nimiam  tenebriones. 
[Prefixed  to  The  Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson,  1616.] 

Edward  Hay  ward,  1616. 

To  Ben.  lonson,  on  his  workes. 
May  I  subscribe  a  name?  dares  my  bold  quill 

Write  that  or  good  or  ill, 
Whose  fame  is  that  of  height,  that,  to  mine  eye, 

Its  head  is  in  the  sky? 
Yes.     Since  the  most  censures,  believes,  and  saith 

By  an  implicit  faith : 
Lest  their  misfortune  make  them  chance  amiss, 

I'll  .waft  them  right  by  this. 
Of  all  I  know  thou  only  art  the  man 

That  dares  but  what  he  can : 


TO   BEN  JONSON  97 

Yet  by  performance  shows  he  can  do  more 

Than  hath  been  done  before, 
Or  will  be  after;  (such  assurance  gives 

Perfection  where  it  lives.) 
Words  speak  thy  matter;  matter  fills  thy  words: 

And  choice  that  grace  affords, 
That  both  are  best:  and  both  most  fitly  placed, 

Are  with  new  Venus  graced 
From  artful  method.     All  in  this  point  meet, 

With  good  to  mingle  sweet. 
These  are  thy  lower  parts.     What  stands  above 

Who  sees  not  yet  must  love, 
When  on  the  base  he  reads  Ben  Jonson's  name, 

And  hears  the  rest  from  fame. 
This  from  my  love  of  truth :  which  pays  this  due 

To  your  just  worth,  not  you. 
[Prefixed  to  The  Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson,  1616.] 

William  Fennor,  1616. 

The  Description  of  a  Poet. 

.  .  .  But  when  his  writings  are  not  understood, 
Oh!  'tis  a  plague  beyond  man's  patient  thought, 
What  he  makes  good  a  multitude  makes  nought. 
A  horrid  murtherer,  or  a  base  thiefe, 
In  his  foule  bosome  harbers  lesser  griefe 
Then  Heaven-bred  Poesye ;  they  shall  be  tryed 
By  upright  justice,  and  their  faults  descried 
Before  a  publike  bench,  hold  up  their  hand 
And  plead  "  Not  guiltie  ";  on  their  just  cause  stand 
Twelve  men  empannelled  to  finde  this  out 
Before  the  sentence  passe,  to  cleere  the  doubt 
Of  judging  rashly.     But  sweet  Poesye 
Is  oft  convict,  condemn'd,  and  judg'd  to  die 
Without  just  triall,  by  a  multitude, 
Whose  judgements  are  illiterate  and  rude. 
Witness  Scejanus,  whose  approved  worth 
Sounds  from  the  calme  South  to  the  freezing  North ; 


98  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  on  the  perfum'd  wings  of  Zepherus, 

In  triumph  mounts  as  farre  as  J^olus; 

With  more  than  humane  art  it  was  bedewed, 

Yet  to  the  multitude  it  nothing  shewed ; 

They  screw'd  their  scurvy  jaws  and  lookt  awry, 

Like  hissing  snakes,  adjudging  it  to  die ; 

When  wits  of  gentry  did  applaud  the  same, 

With  silver  shouts  of  high  loud-sounding  fame ; 

Whilst  understanding-grounded  men  contemn'd  it, 

And  wanting  wit  (like  fools)  to  judge,  condemn'd  it. 

Clapping  or  hissing  is  the  onely  meane 

That  tries  and  searches  out  a  well-writ  sceane ; 

So  it  is  thought  by  Ignoramus  crew, 

But  that,  good  wits  acknowledge,  is  untrue; 

The  stinckards  oft  will  hisse  without  a  cause, 

And  for  a  bawdy  jeast  will  give  applause. 

Let  one  but  ask  the  reason  why  they  roare, 

They'l  answere,  "  Cause  the  rest  did  so  before." 

[Fennor's  Descriptions;  or  A  True  Relation  of  Certain  and  Divers 
Speeches,  Spoken  before  the  King  and  Queen's  Most  Excellent 
Majestie,  in  The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols, 
1828,  iii,  143.] 

John  Dunbar,  1616. 

Ad.  Ben.  Jonson. 
Filius  Hebrseis  Ben  est:  Son  films  Anglis: 

Filii  es  ergo  duo:  quot  tibi  quaeso  patres? 
Si  scio,  disperiam:  scio  quod  sit  magnus  Apollo 

Unus  de  patribus,  magne  poeta,  tuis. 
[Epigrammaton  Joannis  Dunbari  Megalo-Britanni,  1616.] 

Robert  Anton,  1616. 

But  the  sound  melancholicke  mixt  of  earth, 
Plowes  with  his  wits,  and  brings  a  sollid  birth : 
The  labor'd  lines  of  some  deepe  reaching  scull, 
Is  like  some  Indian  ship  or  stately  hull, 
That  three  years  progresse  furrows  up  the  maine, 
Bringing  rich  ingots  from  his  loaden  braine; 


TO   BEN  JONSON  99 

His  wit  the  sunne,  his  labors  are  the  mines, 

His  sollid  stuffe  the  treasure  of  his  lines: 

Mongst  which  most  massive  mettals  I  admire 

The  most  Judicious  Beaumont  and  his  fire: 

The  ever  colum  builder  of  his  fame, 

Sound  searching  Spencer  with  his  Faierie  frame : 

The  labor'd  Muse  of  lohnson,  in  whose  loome 

His  silke-worme  stile  shall  build  an  honor'd  toombe 

In  his  owne  worke :  though  his  long  curious  twins 

Hang  in  the  roofe  of  time  with  daintie  lines; 

Greeke-thundring  Chapman,  beaten  to  the  age 

With  a  deep  furie  and  a  sollid  rage. 

And  MorralJ  Daniell  with  his  pleasing  phrase, 

Filing  the  rockie  methode  of  these  daies. 

[The  Philosophers  Satyrs,  1616.] 

Edward  Sherburn,  1616. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  November  18,  1616. 
Preparation  for  a  masque   [Jonson's    Vision  of  Delight]  &c., 
which  will  increase  the  King's  debt  2,000  £. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1616,  p.  406.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1617. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  18,  1617. 
.  .  .  On  twelfe  night  was  a  maske  [Jonson's  Vision  of  Delight] 
wherin  the  new  made  Earle  [of  Buckingham]  and  the  Earle  of 
mongomerie  daunced  wth  the  Queene.  I  have  heard  no  great 
speach  nor  commendations  of  the  maske  neither  before  nor  since, 
but  yt  is  apointed  to  be  represented  again  to  morrow  night,  and 
the  Spanish  Ambassador  invited.  .  .  .  The  Virginian  woman 
Pocahontas  wth  her  father  Counsaillor  have  ben  wth  the  King 
and  graciously  used,  and  both  she  and  her  assistant  well  placed 
at  the  maske,  she  is  upon  her  return  (though  sore  against  her  will) 
yf  the  wind  wold  come  about  to  send  them  away. 
[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  xc,  25.] 


100  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Chamberlain,  1617. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  February  22,  1617. 
.  .  .  This  night  he  [Baron  de  Tour,  the  French  ambassador] 
is  solemly  invited  by  the  Lord  Hay  to  the  wardrobe  to  supper 
and  a  masque  [Jonson's  Lovers  Made  Men.]. 

[Birch,  T.  and  R.  F.  Williams,  The  Court  and  Times  of  James  the  First, 
1849,  i,  459.     Cf.  State  Papers,  xc,  nos.  79,  94.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1617. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  March  8,  1617. 
The   Frenchmen   are   gone  after   their  great  entertainment, 
which  was  too  great  for  such  petty  companions,  specially  that 
of  the  Lord  Hay.  .  .  . 

[Birch,  T.  and  R.  F.  Williams,  The  Court  and  Times  of  James  the  First, 
i,  462.     The  allusion  is  to  Jonson's  Lovers  Made  Men.} 

Title-page,  1617. 

Lovers  made  Men.  A  Masque  Presented  in  the  House  of  the 
Right  Honorable  The  Lord  Haye.  By  divers  of  noble  qualitie, 
his  friends.  For  the  entertaynment  of  Monsieur  le  Baron  de 
Tour,  extraordinarie  Ambassador  for  the  French.  King.  On 
Saterday  the  22.  of  February.  1617.  [London,]  1617. 

George  Gerrard,  1617. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  June  4,  1617. 
Ben  Jonson  is  going  on  foot  to  Edinburgh  and  back,  for  his 
profit. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1617,  p.  472.]- 

John  Davies  of  Hereford,  1617. 

To  my  learnedly  witty  friend,  Mr.  Beniamin  lohnson. 
Thy  sconse,  that  guards  thy  wits  as  it  they  guard, 
Large,  round,  &  sound,  yet  no  whit  can  be  spar'd: 
For  thy  Wit's  throng:  that  plenty  makes  thee  scarce, 
Which  makes  thee  slow,  as  sure  in  prose  or  verse, 
'As  say  thy  worst  detractors;  then,  if  thou 
For  all  eternity,  writ'st  sure  and  slowe, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  IOI 

Thy  Wits,  as  they  come  thronging  out  of  dore, 
Do  sticke  awhile,  to  spread  their  praise  the  more. 

[Wits  Bedlam,  1617;    The  Complete  Works  of  John  Dames,  ed.  A.  B. 
Grosart,  1878,  ii,  4.] 

Edmund  Bolton,  1617-25. 

The  Proposition  made  in  Parliament  concerning  an  Academ 
Royal,  or  College  and  Senate  of  Honor,  by  the  Lord  Marquis  of 
Buckingham,  and  there  approved;  as  it  was  occasioned  and 
founded  upon  the  reasons  severally  presented  to  his  Sacred 
Majesty  and  to  his  Lordship  before  Christmas  last,  A.D.  1620, 
in  the  name  of  The  Honor  of  the  Kingdom  and  of  the  Antiquities 
thereof. 

.  .  .  To  convert  the  Castle  Royal  of  Windsor,  ...  or  if  not 
Windsor,  what  other  place  his  Majesty  shall  be  pleased  to  appoint, 
to  an  English  Olympus;  nay,  rather  not  to  convert  it,  but  only 
to  obtain  so  transcendant  and  pompous  a  favour,  as  that  his 
sacred  self  and  nobles  stellified  in  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  as  in 
their  proper  sphere,  would  receive  and  take  in  this  humanity  of 
heroic  faculties  into  that  as  it  were  divinity  of  their  splendour, 
place,  .and  calling:  to  erect  thereby  an  order  within  the  Order 
of  Saint  George,  and  as  it  were  to  draw  a  narrow  circle 
within  a  large,  concentrick,  that  company  to  consist  of  se 
lected  persons  competent  for  such  a  noble  use,  writh  particular 
privileges,  fees,  and  ornaments,  and  they  incorporated  under 
the  title  of  a  brotherhood  or  fraternity  associated  for  matters 
of  honour  and  antiquity,  and  under  a  certain  canon  of  govern 
ment,  at  His  Majesty's  pleasure;  a  member  subject  to  the 
famous  Earl  Marshalship  of  England  during  the  exercise  or 
agon :  the  rules  and  laws  to  be  such  as  shall  by  moral  learning  be 
found  most  apt  to  habituate  heroic  virtues,  for  the  love  thereof 
to  enflame  man's  heart  with  the  sober  desire  of  glory.  The 
officers  to  be  chosen  answerably  worthy  to  such  laws;  men 
whose  pay  and  ends  must  be  only  honour.  All  questions 
of  heroic  doctrine  to  be  distinctly  spoken  unto  out  of  writing 
upon  sufficient  warning  first  given,  not  after  the  tumultuous, 
violent,  and  clamorous  manner  of  ordinary  schools,  but  after 


102  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

the  grave  and  honourable  forms  of  Parliament;  the  speech  or 
discourse  to  remain  under  the  author's  subscribed  name  and 
seal  of  arms.  The  general  exercise  to  be  summary  at  Saint 
George's  Feast,  the  particulars  to  be  quarterly;  the  names, 
styles,  and  armories  of  the  brethren  to  be  publicly  set  over  each 
gentleman's  head,  and  all  to  remain  upon  record  with  the  Register 
of  the  Society. 

[Harl.  MS.  6143.  The  men  selected  to  be  founders  of  this  Royal 
Academy  were  "Mr.  George  Chapman,  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  Sir 
Kenelm  Digby,  Mr.  Michael  Drayton,  Mr.  Benjamin  Jonston, 
Mr.  Inico  Jones,  Mr.  Endymion  Porter,  Mr.  John  Selden,  Sir 
Henry  Wotton,"  and  seventy- five  others.  For  a  general  summary 
of  this  long  manuscript,  see  the  article  by  Joseph  Hunter  in 
Archceologia,  xxxii,  p.  132  ff.  The  project  was  under  discussion 
from  1617;  its  realization  was  apparently  prevented  by  the  death 
of  King  James.] 

Nathaniel  Brent,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  2,  1618. 

The  Qu:  hath  caused  ye  La.  maske  to  be  put  of  wch  my  Ld 
Hay  should  have  made  at  ye  robes  last  night.  The  other  wch 
ye  Prince  is  to  make  in  the  banqueting  house  on  12 th  night,  and 
wherein  himself  is  to  be  an  actor,  is  likely  to  hould. 

Your  Lp  heard  before  this  time  y1  ye  marchands  of  middleb. 
&  ye  East  Indies  have  undertaken  to  furnish  ye  exchequer  with 
5000o£,  of  wch.his  matie  hath  bin  pleased  to  assigne  for  Ireland 
I2ooo£,   for  ye  arrerages  of  ye  artillerie   8ooo£,    for   Marquis 
Hammelton  8ooo£,  for  my  Ld  D'Aubigni  4OOo£,  for  my  Ld  Hey 
300o£,  for  my  Ld  Haddingto  2ooo£  and  4ooo£  for  ye  Princes 
.maske  [Pleasure  Reconciled  to    Virtue},     al  which   he  wil  most 
gratiously  per  forme  if  there  be  not  to  much  difficulty  found  in  ye 
collecting  of  it. 
London,  Jan.  T2^,  1617. 
Your  Lps  most  devoted  to  do  you  service 

Nathanael  Brent. 
[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  7,  xcv,  no.  3;  cf.  xciv,  no.  52.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  103 

John  Chamberlain,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  j,  1618. 
The   Muscovy  Ambassadors   shall   be   feasted   at   Court   to 
morrow,  and  on  Twelfth-night  is  the  Prince's  Masque  [Jon son's 
Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue]. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1823,  iii,  453.] 

John  Finett,  1618. 

A  Mask  [Jonson's  Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue]  prepared  for 
Twelftyde  (wherein  the  Prince  was  to  be  a  principall  Actor)  and 
that  his  first  Exercise  in  that  kinde)  was  a  subject  for  the  King 
to  invite  to  it  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  and  to  observe  the 
promise  his  Majestiy  had  made  him  the  yeare  before  to  that 
purpose,  the  rather  because  a  Marriage  between  the  Prince  and 
the  Infanta  was  then  in  Treaty. 
[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  p.  48.] 

Horatio  Busino,  1618. 

On  the  i6th  [O.S.  6th]  of  the  current  month  of  January,  his 
Excellency  was  invited  to  see  a  representation  and  masque 
[Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue],  which  had  been  prepared  with 
extraordinary  pains,  the  chief  performer  being  the  king's  own 
son  and  heir,  the  prince  of  Wales,  now  seventeen  years  old,  an 
agile  youth,  handsome  and  very  graceful.  At  the  fourth  hour 
of  the  night  we  went  privately  to  the  Court,  through  the  park. 
On  reaching  the  royal  apartments  his  Excellency  was  entertained 
awhile  by  one  of  the  leading  cavaliers  until  all  was  ready,  whilst 
we,  his  attendants,  all  perfumed  and  escorted  by  the  master  of 
the  ceremonies,  entered  the  usual  box  of  the  Venetian  embassy, 
.  .  .  Whilst  waiting  for  the  king  we  amused  ourselves  by  admir 
ing  the  decorations  and  beauty  of  the  house.  .  .  .  Then  such  a 
concourse  as  there  was,  for  although  they  profess  only  to  admit 
the  favoured  ones  who  are  invited,  yet  every  box  was  filled 
notably  with  most  noble  and  richly  arrayed  ladies,  in  number 
some  600  and  more  according  to  the  general  estimate;  the 
dresses  being  of  such  variety  in  cut  and  colour  as  to  be  inde 
scribable;  the  most  delicate  plumes  over  their  heads,  springing 


104  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

from  their  foreheads  or  in  their  hands  serving  as  fans ;  strings  of 
jewels  on  their  necks  and  bosoms  and  in  their  girdles  and  apparel 
•in  such  quantity  that  they  looked  like  so  many  queens,  so  that 
at  the  beginning,  with  but  little  light,  such  as  that  of  the  dawn 
or  of  the  evening  twilight,  the  splendour  of  their  diamonds  and 
other  jewels  was  so  brilliant  that  they  looked  like  so  many  stars. 
During  the  two  hours  of  waiting  we  had  leisure  to  examine  them 
again  and  again.  .  .  . 

At  about  the  6th  hour  of  the  night  the  king  appeared  with  his 
court,  having  passed  through  the  apartments  where  the  ambassa 
dors  were  in  waiting,  whence  he  graciously  conducted  them,  that 
is  to  say,  the  Spaniard  and  the  Venetian,  it  not  being  the  French 
man's  turn,  he  and  the  Spaniard  only  attending  the  court  cere 
monies  alternately  by  reason  of  their  disputes  about  precedence. 

On  entering  the  house,  the  cornets  and  trumpets  to  the  number 
of  fifteen  or  twenty  began  to  play  very  well  a  sort  of  recitative, 
and  then  after  his  Majesty  had  seated  himself  under  the  canopy 
alone,  the  queen  not  being  present  on  account  of  a  slight  indis 
position,  he  caused  the  ambassadors  to  sit  below  him  on  two 
stools,  while  the  great  officers  of  the  crown  and  courts  of  law  sat 
upon  benches.  The  Lord  Chamberlain  then  had  the  way  cleared 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  theatre  there  appeared  a  fine  and 
spacious  area  carpeted  all  over  with  green  cloth.  In  an  instant  a 
large  curtain  dropped,  painted  to  represent  a  tent  of  gold  cloth 
with  a  broad  fringe;  the  background  was  of  canvas  painted  blue, 
powdered  all  over  with  golden  stars.  This  became  the  front 
arch  of  the  stage,  forming  a  drop  scene,  and  on  its- being  removed 
there  appeared  first  of  all  Mount  Atlas,  whose  enormous  head 
was  alone  visible  up  aloft  under  the  very  roof  of  the  theatre; 
it  rolled  up  its  eyes  and  moved  itself  very  cleverly.  As  a  foil 
to  the  principal  ballet  and  masque  they  had  some  mummeries 
performed  in  the  first  act;  for  instance,  a  very  chubby  Bacchus 
appeared  on  a  car  drawn  by  four  gownsmen,  who  sang  in  an 
undertone,  before  his  Majesty.  There  was  another  stout  indi 
vidual  on  foot,  dressed  in  red  in  short  clothes,  who  made  a  speech, 
reeling  about  like  a  drunkard,  tankard  in  hand,  so  that  he 
resembled  Bacchus's  cupbearer.  This  first  scene  was  very  gay 


TO  BEN  JONSON  105 

and  burlesque.  Next  followed  twelve  extravagant  masquers, 
one  of  whom  was  in  a  barrel,  all  but  his  extremities,  his  com 
panions  being  similarly  cased  in  huge  wicker  flasks,  very  well 
made.  They  danced  awhile  to  the  sound  of  the  cornets  and 
trumpets,  performing  various  and  most  extravagant  antics. 
These  were  followed  by  a  gigantic  man  representing  Hercules 
with  his  club,  who  strove  with  Antaeus  and  performed  other 
feats.  Then  came  twelve  masked  boys  in  the  guise  of  frogs. 
They  danced  together,  assuming  sundry  grotesque  attitudes. 
After  they  had  all  fallen  down,  they  were  driven  off  by  Hercules. 
Mount  Atlas  then  opened,  by  means  of  two  doors,  which  were 
made  to  turn,  and  from  behind  the  hills  of  a  distant  landscape 
the  day  was  seen  to  dawn,  some  gilt  columns  being  placed  along 
either  side  of  the  scene,  so  as  to  aid  the  perspective  and  make  the 
distance  seem  greater.  Mercury  next  appeared  before  the  king 
and  made  a  speech.  After  him  came  a  guitar  player  in  a  gown, 
who  sang  some  trills,  accompanying  himself  with  his  instrument.. 
He  announced  himself  as  some  deity,  and  then  a  number  of 
singers,  dressed  in  long  red  gowns  to  represent  high  priests, 
came  on  the  stage,  wearing  gilt  mitres.  In  the  midst  of  them 
was  a  goddess  in  a  long  white  robe  and  they  sang  some  jigs 
which  we  did  not  understand.  It  is  true  that,  spoiled  as  we  are 
by  the  graceful  and  harmonious  music  of  Italy,  the  composition 
did  not  strike  us  as  very  fine.  Finally  twelve  cavaliers,  masked, 
made  their  appearance,  dressed  uniformly,  six  having  the  entire 
hose  crimson  with  plaited  doublets  of  white  satin  trimmed  with 
gold  and  silver  lace.  The  other  six  wore  breeches  down  to  the 
knee,  with  the  half  hose  also  crimson,  and  white  shoes.  These 
matched  well  their  corsets  which  were  cut  in  the  shape  of  the 
ancient  Roman  corslets.  On  their  heads  they  wore  long  hair 
and  crowns  and  very  tall  white  plumes.  Their  faces  were 
covered  with  black  masks.  These  twelve  descended  together 
from  above  the  scene  in  the  figure  of  a  pyramid,  of  which  the 
prince  formed  the  apex.  When  they  reached  the  ground  the 
violins,  to  the  number  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  began  to  play 
their  airs.  After  they  had  made  an  obeisance  to  his  Majesty, 
they  began  to  dance  in  very  good  time,  preserving  for  a  while 


106  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

the  same  pyramidical  figure,  and  with  a  variety  of  steps.  After 
wards  they  changed  places  with  each  other  in  various  ways,  but 
ever  ending  the  jump  together.  When  this  was  over,  each  took 
his  lady,  the  prince  pairing  with  the  principal  one  among  those 
who  were  ranged  in  a  row  ready  to  dance,  and  the  others  doing 
the  like  in  succession,  all  making  obeisance  to  his  Majesty  first 
and  then  to  each  other.  They  performed  every  sort  of  ballet 
and  dance  of  every  country  whatsoever  such  as  passamezzi, 
corants,  canaries  see  Spaniards  and  a  hundred  other  very  fine 
gestures,  devised  to  tickle  the  fancy.  Last  of  all  they  danced 
the  Spanish  dance,  one  at  a  time,  each  with  his  lady,  and  being 
well  nigh  tired  they  began  to  lag,  whereupon  the  king,  who  is 
naturally  choleric,  got  impatient  and  shouted  aloud:  "Why 
don't  they  dance?  What  did  they  make  me  come  here  for? 
Devil  take  you  all,  dance."  Upon  this,  the  Marquis  of  Bucking 
ham,  his  Majesty's  favourite,  immediately  sprang  forward, 
cutting  a  score  of  lofty  and  very  minute  capers,  with  so  much 
grace  and  agility  that  he  not  only  appeased  the  ire  of  his  angry 
lord,  but  rendered  himself  the  admiration  and  delight  of  every 
body.  The  other  masquers,  thus  encouraged,  continued  to 
exhibit  their  prowess  one  after  another,  with  various  ladies,  also 
finishing  with  capers  and  lifting  their  godesses  from  the  ground. 
We  counted  thirty-four  capers  as  cut  by  one  cavalier  in  suc 
cession,  but  none  came  up  to  the  exquisite  manner  of  the  marquis. 
The  prince,  however,  excelled  them  all  in  bowing,  being  very 
formal  in  making  his  obeisance  both  to  the  king  and  to  the  lady 
with  whom  he  danced,  nor  was  he  once  seen  to  do  a  step  out  of 
time  when  dancing,  whereas  one  cannot  perhaps  say  so  much 
for  the  others.  Owing  to  his  youth  he  has  not  yet  much  breath, 
nevertheless  he  cut  a  few  capers  very  gracefully.  The  encounter 
of  these  twelve  accomplished  cavaliers  being  ended,  and  after 
they  had  valiantly  overcome  the  sloth  and  debauch  of  Bacchus, 
the  prince  went  in  triumph  to  kiss  his  father's  hands.  The  king 
embraced  and  kissed  him  tenderly  and  then  honoured  the 
marquis  with  marks  of  extraordinary  affection,  patting  his  face. 
The  king  now  rose  from  his  chair,  took  the  ambassadors  along 
with  him,  and  after  passing  through  a  number  of  chambers  and 


TO   BEN  JONSON  107 

galleries  he  reached  a  hall  where  the  usual  collation  was  spread 
for  the  performers,  a  light  being  carried  before  him.  After  he 
had  glanced  all  round  the  table  he  departed,  .  .  .  The  table 
was  covered  almost  entirely  with  seasoned  pasties  and  very  few 
sugar  confections.  There  were  some  large  figures,  but  they 
were  of  painted  pasteboard  for  ornament.  The  repast  was 
served  upon  glass  plates  or  dishes  and  at  the  first  assault  they 
upset  the  table  and  the  crash  of  glass  platters  reminded  me  pre 
cisely  of  a  severe  hailstorm  at  Midsummer  smashing  the  window 
glass.  The  story  ended  at  half  past  two  in  the  morning  and  half 
disgusted  and  weary  we  returned  home. 

[Anglipotrida,  written  by  Horatio  Busino,  the  chaplain  to  the  Venetian 
Ambassador,  reprinted  in  Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xv, 
111-114.] 

Sir  Edward  Harwood,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  7,  1618. 

.  .  .  The  last  night  beinge  twelfthnight  was  the  masque 
[Jonson's  Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue],  the  antimasque  beinge  of 
little  boyes  dressed  like  bottells  and  a  man  in  a  tonne  wch  the 
bottells  drew  out  and  tost  too  and  fro,  not  ill  liked  the  conceite 
good  the  poetry  not  so.  The  Ambassadors  of  Spayne  and  the 
Venetian  was  at  it:  the  frenche  not. 

[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  xcv,  no.  8.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  10,  1618. 

On  Twelfth-night  was  the  Prince's  Masque;  .  .  .  There  was 
nothing  in  it  extraordinary;  but  rather  the  invention  proved  dull, 
Mr.  Comptroller's  [Sir  Thomas  Edmondes's]  daughter  bore  away 
the  bell  for  delicate  dancing,  though  remarkable  for  nothing  else 
but  for  multitude  of  jewels,  wherewith  she  was  hanged  as  it 
were  all  over. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  464.] 


108  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Nathaniel  Brent,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  10,  1618. 
The  Masque  of  Twelfth  Night  was  so  dull  that  people  say  the 
poet  [Ben  Jonson]  should  return  to  his  old  trade  of  brick-making. 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1618,  p.  512.] 

Edward  Sherburn,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  10,  1618. 
The  maske  [Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue]  wch  was  had  on 
Twelwth-night  wherein  the  Prince  was  one,  yr  L:  will  percieve 
the  conceipt  by  perusing  this  little  book.  I  must  tell  yo'  L: 
it  came  far  short  of  the  expectacon  &  Mr  Inigo  Jones  hath  lost  in 
his  reputacon  in  regard  some  extraordinary  devise  was  looked  for 
(it  being  the  Prince  his  first  mask)  and  a  poorer  was  never  sene. 

[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  xcv,  (addenda)  10*.  Calendar  of 
State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1623-1625,  p.  552.] 

Sir  Gerard  Herbert,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  12,  1618. 
On  Twelfth  Night  was  the  Prince's  Masque;    he  acted  well. 
As  the  Queen  could  not  see  it,  it  will  be  repeated  for  her  on 
Shrove  Sunday. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1618,  p.  512;  cf.  also 
State  Papers,  xcvi,  no.  27,  in  which  Gerard  describes  the  masque 
as  it  was  repeated  on  February  17.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  February  21,  1618. 
On  Shrove  Tuesday  the  Prince's  Masque  [Pleasure  Reconciled 
to  Virtue]  for  Twelfth-night  was  represented  again  with  some  few 
alterations  and  additions;  but  little  bettered. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  468.] 

Nathaniel  Brent,  1618. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  February  21,  1618. 
The  Prince's  masque  [Pleasure  Reconciled]  exhibited  again  [on 
February  17],  with  the  addition  of  goats  and  Welsh  speeches. 
[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1618,  p.  523.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  109 

Exchequer  Accounts,  1618. 

Thomas  Knyuett  ordinary  Groome  of  the  Prince  his  highnes 
chamber  being  sent  by  the  Comatmdem*  of  Sr  Robert  Gary 
Knight  Chamberlaine  to  the  Prince  his  highnes  from  Newmarkett 
to  Chelsey  parke  to  Sr  John  Cotton  to  seeke  Mr  Eliott  to  warne 
him  to  attend  the  Prince  wth  his  hawke  after  dinner.  Also 
another  time  sent  by  Mr  Gray  from  White  hall  to  Blackfriers  to 
Mr  Johnson  the  Poet  to  come  to  the  Prince  ffor  wch  severall 
services  hee  prayeth  to  have  allowance  for  his  paines  and  charge 
of  his  horse  and  botehire  too  and  fro  and  to  be  rated  by  the 
honoble  Sr  Robert  Gary  Knight  Chamberlaine  to  his  highnes,  and 
paied  by  the  wory.  Mr.  Adam  Newton  Recevior  generall  of  his 
highnes  Treasure  iiij8. 

Ro:  cary 
Alexander 
[Exchequer  of  Receipts,  Miscellaneous,  cccxlviii.] 

Edmund  Bolton,  about  1618. 

But  if  I  should  declare  mine  own  Rudeness  rudely,  I  should 
then  confess  that  I  never  tasted  English  more  to  my  liking,  nor 
more  smart,  and  put  to  the  height  of  Use  in  Poetry,  then  in  that 
vital,  judicious,  and  most  practicable  Language  of  Benjamin 
Jonson's  Poems. 

[Hypercritica,  Addresse  the  Fourth,  Sect.  iii.J 

John  Taylor,  1618. 

To  all  my  Loving  Adventurers,  by  what  Name  or  Title  soever,  my 

General  Salutation. 

Reader,  these  Travels  of  mine  into  Scotland,  were  not  under 
taken,  neither  in  imitation,  or  emulation  of  any  man,  but  only 
devised  by  myself,  on  purpose  to  make  trial  of  my  friends  both 
in  this  Kingdom  of  England,  and  that  of  Scotland,  and  because  I 
would  be  an  eye-witness  of  divers  things  which  I  had  heard  of 
that  Country;  and  whereas  many  shallow-brained  Critics,  do 
lay  an  aspersion  on  me,  that  I  was  set  on  by  others,  or  that 
I  did  undergo  this  project,  either  in  malice,  or  mockage  of  Master 
Benjamin  Jonson,  I  vow  by  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  that  their 


HO  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

imaginations  are  all  wide,  for  he  is  a  gentleman,  to  whom  I  am 
so  much  obliged  for  many  undeserved  courtesies  that  I  have 
received  from  him,  and  from  others  by  his  favour,  that  I  durst 
never  to  be  so  impudent  or  ungrateful,  as  either  to  suffer  any 
man's  persuasions,  or  mine  own  instigation,  to  incite  me,  to  make 
so  bad  a  requital,  for  so  much  goodness  formerly  received. 

(P.   121.) 

***** 

Now  the  day  before  I  came  from  Edinburgh,  I  went  to  Leeth, 
where  I  found  my  long  approved  and  assured  good  friend  Master 
Benjamin  Jonson,  at  one  Master  John  Stuarts  house;  I  thank 
him  for  his  great  kindness  toward  me :  for  at  my  taking  leave  of 
him,  he  gave  me  a  piece  of  gold  of  two  and  twenty  shillings  to 
drink  his  health  in  England.  And  withal,  willed  me  to  remember 
his  kind  commendations  to  all  his  friends:  So  with  a  friendly 
farewell,  I  left  him  as  well,  as  I  hope  never  to  see  him  in  a  worse 
estate :  for  he  is  amongst  noblemen  and  gentlemen  that  know  his 
true  worth,  and  their  own  honours,  where,  with  much  respective 
love  he  is  worthily  entertained.  (P.  138.) 

[The  Pennyles  Pilgrimage,  1618;  the  page  references  are  to  the  Folio  of 
1630.] 

Edinburgh  Council  Records,  1618. 

[The  following  is  a  summary  of  Professor  Masson's  account  of 

Jonson's  reception  by  the  civic  authorities  of  Edinburgh  in  1618.} 

In  the  Register  of  the  Edinburgh  Town  Council,  under  the 

date  25th  September  1618,  appears  a  minute  stating  that  on  that 

day,  the  Provost,  Bailies,  Dean  of  Guild,  Treasurer,  and  Council 

"  being  conveynitt,"  and  having  transacted  some  other  pieces  of 

business,  the  following  order  was  passed : — 

"  Ordanis  the  Deyne  of  Gild  to  mak  Benjamyn  Jonsoun, 
Inglisman,  burges  and  gild-brother  in  communi  forma." 

At  the  time  of  their  order  to  the  Dean  of  Guild  Aikenhead  to 
make  Jonson  a  burgess  and  guild-brother,  the  Magistrates  and 
Town  Council  had  resolved  that  it  would  be  but  right  and  fitting 
that  the  admission  of  so  distinguished  an  Englishman  to  the 
freedom  of  Edinburgh  should  not  be  a  mere  affair  of  appearance 
and  handshaking  at  a  Council  meeting,  but  should  be  marked  by 


TO   BEN  JONSON  III 

some  more  solid  and  memorable  accompaniment.  The  proof  is 
furnished  by  this  minute  of  a  subsequent  meeting  of  the  Magis 
trates  and  Council,  of  date  i6th  October  1618,  or  three  weeks 
after  their  former  order : — 

"  Ordanis  the  Thesaurer  to  pay  to  James  Ainslie,  laite  baillie, 
twa  hundreth  twenty-ane  pound,  sex  schillingis,  four  pennyis, 
debursit  be  him  upone  the  denner  maid  to  Benjamin  Jonstoun, 
conforme  to  the  Act  maid  thairanent  and  compt  given  in  of  the 
same." 

The  transaction  reappears  at  a  later  date  in  this  entry  in  the 
Treasurer's  accounts,  taking  credit  for  the  sum  he  had  paid: — 

"  Item,  thair  aucht  to  be  allowed  to  the  Compter,  payit  be 
him  to  James  Ainslie,  bailie,  for  expenses  debursit  upone  ane 
bancquett  maid  to  Benjamin  Johnstoune,  conforme  to  ane  Act 
of  Counsell  of  the  dait  the  [blank]  day  of  September  1618 — 
iicxxi  lib  vis  viiid  " — fourpence  more,  it  will  be  observed,  than 
in  the  former  reckoning.  The  banquet  must  have  been  on  some 
day  between  the  25th  of  September  and  the  i6th  of  October. 

The  following  entry  in  Dean  of  Guild  Aikenhead's  accounts 
refers  to  Ben  Jonson's  burgess-ticket,  which,  as  Professor  Masson 
suggests,  must  have  been  about  as  handsome  as  could  then  be 
devised : — 

"  Item,  the  twentie  day  of  Januar  ImVIc  and  nyntene  yeiris, 
geivin  at  directione  of  the  Counsell  to  Alexr.  Patersone  for 
wrytting  and  gilting  of  Benjamine  Johnestounes  burges  ticket, 
being  thryis  writtin,  xiii  lib  vis  viiid." 

[For  fuller  details  see  Professor  Masson's  article  in  Blackwood's  Edin 
burgh  Magazine,  December,  1893.] 

William  Drummond,  1619. 

Notes  of  Ben  Jonson's  Conversations. 

That  he  had  ane  intention  to  perfect  ane  Epick  Poeme  intitled 
Heroologia,  of  the  Worthies  of  this  Country  rowsed  by  Fame; 
and  was  to  dedicate  it  to  his  Country:  it  is  all  in  couplets,  for  he 
detesteth  all  other  rimes. 


H2  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

All  this  was  to  no  purpose,  for  he  [Jonson]  neither  doeth  under 
stand  French  nor  Italiannes. 

*         *         *         # 

Daniel  was  at  jealousies  with  him. 

Drayton  feared  him;  and  he  esteemed  not  of  him. 

That  Francis  Beaumont  loved  too  much  himself  and  his  own 
verses. 

That  Sir  John  Roe  loved  him ;  and  when  they  two  were  ushered 
by  my  Lord  Suffolk  from  a  Mask,  Roe  wrott  a  moral  Epistle  to 
him,  which  began,  That  next  to  playes,  the  Court  and  the  State 
were  the  best.  God  threateneth  Kings,  Kings  Lords,  [as]  Lords  do  us. 

He  beat  Marston,  and  took  his  pistoll  from  him. 

Sir  W.  Alexander  was  not  half  kinde  unto  him,  and  neglected 
him,  because  a  friend  to  Drayton. 

That  Sir  R.  Aiton  loved  him  dearly. 

Nid  Field  was  his  schollar,  and  he  had  read  to  him  the  Satyres 
of  Horace,  and  some  Epigrames  of  Martiall. 

That  Markam  (who  added  his  English  Arcadia)  was  not  of  the 
number  of  the  Faithfull,  i.[e]  Poets,  and  but  a  base  fellow. 

That  such  were  Day  and  Midleton. 

That  Chapman  and  Fletcher  were  loved  of  him. 

Overbury  was  first  his  friend,  then  turn'd  his  mortall  enimie. 


OF  HIS   OWNE   LYFE,    EDUCATION,    BIRTH,    ACTIONS. 

His  Grandfather  came  from  Carlisle,  and,  he  thought,  from 
Anandale  to  it:  he  served  King  Henry  8,  and  was  a  gentleman. 
His  Father  losed  all  his  estate  under  Queen  Marie,  having  been 
cast  in  prisson  and  forfaitted;  at  last  turn'd  Minister:  so  he  was  a 
minister's  son.  He  himself  was  posthumous  born,  a  moneth  after 
his  father's  decease ;  brought  up  poorly,  putt  to  school  by  a  friend 
(his  master  Cambden) ;  after  taken  from  it,  and  put  to  ane  other 
craft  (/  think  was  to  be  a  wright  or  bricklayer) ,  which  he  could  not 
endure;  then  went  he  to  the  Low  Countries;  but  returning  soone 
he  betook  himself  to  his  wonted  studies.  In  his  service  in  the 
Low  Countries,  he  had,  in  the  face  of  both  the  campes,  killed 
ane  enemie  and  taken  opima  spolia  from  him;  and  since  his 
comming  to  England,  being  appealed  to  the  fields,  he  had  killed 


TO   BEN  JONSON  113 

his  adversarie,  which  had  hurt  him  in  the  arme,  and  whose 
sword  was  10  inches  longer  than  his;  for  the  which  he  was 
emprissoned,  and  almost  at  the  gallowes.  Then  took  he  his 
religion  by  trust,  of  a  priest  who  visited  him  in  prisson.  There 
after  he  was  12  yeares  a  Papist. 

He  was  Master  of  Arts  in  both  the  Universities,  by  their  favour, 
not  his  studie. 

He  maried  a  wyfe  who  was  a  shrew,  yet  honest :  5  yeers  he  had 
not  bedded  with  her,  but  remayned  with  my  Lord  Aulbanie. 

In  the  tyme  of  his  close  imprisonment,  under  Queen  Elizabeth, 
his  judges  could  get  nothing  of  him  to  all  their  demands  but  I 
and  No.  They  placed  two  damn'd  villains  to  catch  advantage 
of  him,  with  him,  but  he  was  advertised  by  his  keeper:  of  the 
Spies  he  hath  ane  epigrame. 

When  the  King  came  in  England  at  that  tyme  the  pest  was  in 
London,  he  being  in  the  country  at  Sir  Robert  Cotton's  house 
with  old  Cambden,  he  saw  in  a  vision  his  eldest  sone,  then  a  child 
and  at  London,  appear  unto  him  with  the  mark  of  a  bloodie 
crosse  on  his  forehead,  as  if  it  had  been  cutted  with  a  suord,  at 
which  amazed  he  prayed  unto  God,  and  in  the  morning  he  came 
to  Mr.  Cambden's  chamber  to  tell  him;  who  persuaded  him  it 
was  but  ane  apprehension  of  his  fantasie,  at  which  he  sould  not 
be  disjected;  in  the  mean  tyme  comes  there  letters  from  his 
wife  of  the  death  of  that  boy  in  the  plague.  He  appeared  to  him 
(he  said)  of  a  manlie  shape,  and  of  that  grouth  that  he  thinks  he 
shall  be  at  the  resurrection. 

He  was  delated  by  Sir  James  Murray  to  the  King,  for  writting 
something  against  the  Scots,  in  a  play  Eastward  Hoe,  and  volun 
tarily  imprissonned  himself  with  Chapman  and  Marston,  who 
had  written  it  amongst  them.  The  report  was,  that  they  should 
then  [have]  had  their  ears  cut  and  noses.  After  their  delivery, 
he  banqueted  all  his  friends;  there  was  Camden,  Selden,  and 
others;  at  the  midst  of  the  feast  his  old  Mother  dranke  to  him, 
and  shew  him  a  paper  which  she  had  (if  the  sentence  had  taken 
execution)  to  have  mixed  in  the  prisson  among  his  drinke,  which 
was  full  of  lustie  strong  poison,  and  that  she  was  no  churle,  she 
told,  she  minded  first  to  have  drunk  of  it  herself. 
9 


114  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

He  had  many  quarrells  with  Marston,  beat  him,  and  took  his 
pistol  from  him,  wrote  his  Poetaster  on  him;  the  beginning  of 
them  were,  that  Marston  represented  him  in  the  stage,  Tn  his 
youth  given  to  veneriej  foe  thought  the  use  of  a  maide  nothing 
in  comparison  to  the  wantoness  of  a  wyfe,  and  would  never  have 
ane  other  mistress.  He  said  two  accidents  strange  befell  him: 
one,  that  a  man  made  his  own  wyfe  to  court  him,  whom  he 
enjoyed  two  yeares  ere  he  knew  of  it,  and  one  day  finding  them 
by  chance,  was  passingly  delighted  with  it;  ane  other,  lay 
divers  tymes  with  a  woman,  who  shew  him  all  that  he  wished, 
except  the  last  act,  which  she  would  never  agree  unto. 

S.  W.  Raulighe  sent  him  governour  with  his  Son,  anno  1613, 
to  France.  This  youth  being  knavishly  inclyned,  among  other 
pastimes  (as  the  setting  of  the  favour  of  damosells  on  a  cwd- 
piece),  caused  him  to  be  drunken,  and  dead  drunk,  so  that  he 
knew  not  wher  he  was,  therafter  laid  him  on  a  carr,  which  he 
made  to  be  drawen  by  pioners  through  the  streets,  at  every 
corner  showing  his  governour  stretched  out,  and  telling  them, 
that  was  a  more  lively  image  of  the  Crucifix  then  any  they  had : 
at  which  sport  young  Raughlie's  mother  delyghted  much  (saying, 
his  father  young  was  so  inclyned),  though  the  Father  abhorred  it. 

He  can  set  horoscopes,  but  trusts  not  in  them.  He  with  the 
consent  of  a  friend  cousened  a  lady,  with  whom  he  had  made 
ane  appointment  to  meet  ane  old  Astrologer,  in  the  suburbs, 
which  she  keeped ;  and  it  was  himself  disguysed  in  a  longe  gowne 
and  a  whyte  beard  at  the  light  of  dimm  burning  candles,  up  in  a 
little  cabinet  reached  unto  by  a  ledder. 

Every  first  day  of  the  new  year  he  had  20  Ib.  sent  him  from  the 
Earl  of  Pembrok  to  buy  bookes. 

After  he  was  reconciled  with  the  Church,  and  left  of  to  be  a 
recusant,  at  his  first  communion,  in  token  of  true  reconciliation, 
he  drank  out  all  the  full  cup  of  wyne. 

Being  at  the  end  of  my  Lord  Salisburie's  table  with  Inigo 
Jones,  and  demanded  by  my  Lord,  Why  he  was  not  glad?  My 
Lord,  said  he,  yow  promised  I  should  dine  with  yow,  bot  I  doe 
not,  for  he  had  none  of  his  meate;  he  esteemed  only  that  his 
meate  which  was  of  his  own  dish. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  115 

He  heth  consumed  a  whole  night  in  lying  looking  to  his  great 
toe,  about  which  he  hath  seen  Tartars  and  Turks,  Romans  and 
Carthaginians,  feight  in  his  imagination. 

Northampton  was  his  mortall  enimie  for  beating,  on  a  St. 
George's  day,  one  of  his  attenders:  He  was  called  before  the 
Councell  for  his  Sejanus,  and  accused  both  of  poperie  and 
treason  by  him. 

Sundry  tymes  he  hath  devoured  his  bookes,  i.[e.]  sold  them  all 
for  necessity. 

He  heth  a  minde  to  be  a  churchman,  and  so  he  might  have 
favour  to  make  one  sermon  to  the  King,  he  careth  not  what 
therafter  sould  befall  him:  for  he  would  not  flatter  though  he 
saw  Death. 

At  his  hither  comming,  Sr  Francis  Bacon  said  to  him,  He 
loved  not  to  sie  Poesy  goe  on  other  feet  than  poeticall  Dactylus 

and  Spondaeus. 

*  *          *          * 

HIS   OPINIONE   OF   VERSES. 

That  he  wrott  all  his  first  in  prose,  for  so  his  Master,  Cambden, 

had  learned  him. 

*  *          *          * 

OF   HIS   WORKES. 

That  the  half  of  his  Comedies  were  not  in  print. 

He  hath  a  pastorall  intitled  The  May  Lord.  His  own  name 
is  Alkin,  Ethra  the  Countesse  of  Bedfoord's,  Mogibell  Overberry, 
the  old  Countesse  of  Suffolk  ane  inchanteress ;  other  names  are 
given  to  Somersett's  Lady,  Pembrook,  the  Countesse  of  Rutland, 
Lady  Wroth.  In  his  first  storie,  Alkin  commeth  in  mending  his 
broken  pipe.  Contrary  to  all  other  pastoralls,  he  bringeth  the 
clownes  making  mirth  and  foolish  sports. 

He  hath  intention  to  writt  a  fisher  or  pastorall  play,  and  sett 
the  stage  of  it  in  the  Lowmond  lake. 

That  Epithalamium  that  wants  a  name  in  his  printed  Workes 
was  made  at  the  Earl  of  Essex  mariage. 

He  is  to  writt  his  foot  Pilgrimage  hither,  and  to  call  it  a 
Discoverie. 

In  a  poem  he  calleth  Edinborough 


116  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  heart  of  Scotland,  Britaines  other  eye. 

A  play  of  his,  upon  which  he  was  accused,  The  Divell  is  ane 
Ass;  according  to  Comedia  Vetus,  in  England  the  Divell  was 
brought  in  either  with  one  Vice  or  other:  the  play  done  the 
Divel  caried  away  the  Vice,  he  brings  in  the  Divel  so  overcome 
with  the  wickedness  of  this  age  that  thought  himself  ane  Ass. 
Uap€p7ovs  is  discoursed  of  the  Duke  of  Drounland:  the  King 
desired  him  to  conceal  it. 

He  hath  commented  and  translated  Horace  Art  of  Poesie: 
it  is  in  Dialogue  wayes;  by  Criticus  he  understandeth  Dr.  Done. 
The  old  book  that  goes  about,  The  Art  of  English  Poesie,  was 
done  20  yeers  since,  and  keept  long  in  wrytt  as  a  secret. 

He  had  ane  intention  to  have  made  a  play  like  Plautus  Amphi- 
trio,  but  left  it  of,  for  that  he  could  never  find  two  so  like  others 
that  he  could  persuade  the  spectators  they  were  one. 

*  *         *         * 

His  Epitaph,  by  a  companion  written,  is, 
Here  lyes  Benjamin  Johnson  dead, 
And  hath  no  more  wit  than  [a]  goose  in  his  head ; 
That  as  he  was  wont,  so  doth  he  still, 
Live  by  his  wit,  and  evermore  will. 

Ane  other 

Here  lyes  honest  Ben, 

That  had  not  a  beard  on  his  chen. 

*  *         *         * 
MISCELLANIES. 

He  was  better  versed,  and  knew  more  in  Greek  and  Latin, 
than  all  the  Poets  in  England,  and  quintessence  their  braines. 

*  *         *         * 

Of  all  styles  he  loved  most  to  be  named  Honest,  and  hath  of 
that  ane  hundreth  letters  so  naming  him. 

*  *         *         * 

In  his  merry  humor  he  was  wont  to  name  himself  The  Poet. 

He  went  from  Lieth  homeward  the  25  of  January  1619,  in  a 
pair  of  shoes  which,  he  told,  lasted  him  since  he  came  from 
Darnton,  which  he  minded  to  take  back  that  farr  againe:  they 


TO   BEN  JONSON  117 

were  appearing  like  Cqriat's:  the  first  two  days  he  was  all  ex 
coriate. 

If  he  died  by  the  way,  he  promised  to  send  me  his  papers  of 
this  Country,  hewen  as  they  were. 

I  have  to  send  him  descriptions  of  Edinbrough,  Borrow  Lawes, 
of  the  Lowmond. 

That  piece  of  the  Pucelle  of  the  Court  was  stolen  out  of  his 
pocket   by   a   gentleman   who   drank   him   droUsie,   and   given 
Mistress  Boulstraid;  which  brought  him  great  displeasure. 
*          *          *          * 
January  19,  1619. 

He  [Jonson]  is  a  great  lover  and  praiser  of  himself;  a  contemner 
and  scorner  of  others;  given  ra.ther  to  losse  a  friend  than  a  jest; 
jealous  of  every  word  and  action  of  those  about  him  (especiallie 
after  drink,  which  is  one  of  the  elements  in  which  he  liveth) ;  a' 
dissembler  of  ill  parts  which  raigne  in  him,  a  bragger  of  some 
good  that  he  wanteth;  thiriketh  nothing  well  bot  what  either 
he  himself  or  some  of  his  friends  and  countrymen  hath  said  or 
done;  he  is  passionately  kynde  and  angry;  careless  either  to 
gaine  or  keep;  vindicative,  but,  if  he  be  well  answered,  at  himself. 

For  any  religion,  as  being  versed  in  both.  Interpreteth  best 
sayings  and  deeds  often  to  the  worst.  Oppressed  with  fantasie, 
which  hath  ever  mastered  his  reason,  a  generall  disease  in  many 
Poets.  His  inventions  are  smooth  and  easie;  but  above  all  he 
excelleth  in  a  Translation. 

When  his  play  of  a  Silent  Woman  was  first  acted,  ther  was 
found  verses  after  on  the  stage  against  him,  concluding  that  that 
play  was  well  named  the  Silent  Woman,  ther  was  never  one  man 
to  say  Plaudite  to  it. 

[Notes  of  Ben  Jonson1  s  Conversations.  The  extracts  above  were  chosen 
to  reflect  the  impression  that  Jonson  made  on  Drummond.  The 
reader  should  consult  the  complete  document.] 

William  Drummond,  1619. 

Letter  to  Ben  Jonson,  January  77,  1619. 
Sir, 

Here  you  have  that  Epigram  which  you  desired  with  another 
of  the  like  argument.  If  there  be  any  other  thing  in  this  country 


Il8  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

(unto  which  my  power  can  reach)  command  it;  there  is  nothing 
I  wish  more  than  to  be  in  the  calendar  of  them  who  love  you. 
I  have  heard  from  Court  that  the  late  Masque  was  not  so  ap 
proved  of  the  King,  as  in  former  times,  and  that  your  absence 
was  regretted.  Such  applause  hath  true  worth  even  of  those 
who  otherwise  are  not  for  it.  Such,  to  the  next  occasion,  taking 
my  leave,  I  remain  Your  loving  friend. 

W.  D. 

[Reproduced  in  the  Gifford-Cunningham  edition  of  Jonson,    1871,  i, 
xlvii.] 

William  Drummond,  1619. 

Letter  to  Ben  Jonson,  July  i,  1619. 
Worthy  Friend, 

The  uncertainty  of  your  abode  was  a  cause  of  my  silence  this 
'time  past — I  have  adventured  this  packet  upon  hopes  that  a 
man  so  famous  cannot  be  in  any  place  either  of  the  City  or 
Court,  where  he  shall  not  be  found  out.  In  my  last  (the  missing 
letter)  I  sent  you  a  description  of  Loch  Lomond,  with  a  map  of 
Inch-merionach,  which  may,  by  your  book,  be  made  most 
famous,  .  .  . 

[Reproduced  in  the  Gifford-Cunningham  edition  of  Jonson,   1871,  i, 
xlvii.] 

Mr.  Craven,  1619. 

To  Mr.  Ben:  Jonson  in  his  Jorney. 
When  witt,  and  learninge  are  so  hardly  sett 
That  from  their  needfull  meanes  they  must  be  bard 
Unless  by  going  harde  ye^  mayntnance  gett 
Well  maye  Ben:  Johnson  say  ye  world  goes  hard. 

This  was  Mr  Ben:  Johnsons  Answer  of  ye  suddayne 
II  may  Ben  Johnson  slander  so  his  feete 
for  when  ye  profitt  with  ye  payne  doth  meete 
Although  ye  gate  were  hard  ye  gayne  is  sweete. 
[Harl.  MS.  4955;  reproduced  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Anglia,  xxxvii,  470.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  119 

Oxford  University  Register,  1619. 
19  July  1619,  created  M.  A.: — 

JOHNSON,  BENJAMIN;  "  omni  humana  litteratura  feliciter 
instructus  et  eo  nominea  serenissimo  rege  annua  pensione  eaque 
satis  honorifica  honestatus." 

[Register  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  1571-1622,  1887,  ii,  238.] 

Thomas  Cooke,  1619. 

Mensis  Jenevar  Anno  Regis  Jacobi  Decimo  Septimo,  1619. 
Thomas  Cooke,  one  of  the  Gromes  of  the  Prince  his  chamber, 
being  sent  in  his  Highnes  service  by  ye  comand  of  Mr  Welter 
Alexander,  Gentellman  Usher,  Daily  Waiter  to  the  Prince  his 
Highnes,  of  two  Message  two  severall  tymes  from  the  Court  at 
Whithaell  into  London  by  Cripellgatt,  to  warn  Mr  Ben  Johnson 
the  Poet,  and  the  Players  at  the  Blackfriers  to  attend  Hys 
Highnes  that  night  following  at  Court,  wch.  severall  services 
being  done,  he  returned  each  tyme  with  answer.  .  .  . 

[Printed  in  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  S.,  March  4,  1871,  p.  183.] 

Title-page,  1620. 

The  Silent  Woman.  A  Comedie.  Acted  by  the  Children  of 
the  Revels.  The  Author  B.  lonson.  William  Stansby  sold  by 
lohn  Browne,  .  .  .  1620. 

Henry  Fitzgeoffrey,  1620. 

How  many  Volumes  lye  neglected  thrust 
In  every  Bench-hole?  every  heape  of  dust? 
Which  from  some  Gownis  practice,  Powder  plot, 
Or  Tiburne  Lecturs,  all  their  substance  got: 
Yet  tosse  our  Time-stalles,  you'll  admire  the  rout 
Of  carelesse  fearelesse  Pamphlets  flye  about 
Bookes  made  of  Ballades;  Workes  of  Playes.  .  .  . 

[Certain  Elegies,  1620,  lib.  i,  sat.  I.  The  allusion  is  one  of  many  to 
Jonson's  calling  his  volume  of  plays  The  Workes  of  Benjamin 
Jonson.] 


I2o  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Taylor,  1620. 

In  Paper,  many  a  Poet  now  survives 
Or  else  their  lines  had  perish'd  with  their  lives. 
Old  Chaucer,  Cower,  and  Sir  Thomas  More, 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  who  the  Lawrell  wore, 
Spencer,  and  Shakespeare  did  in  Art  excell, 
Sir  Edward  Dyer,  Greene,  Nash,  Daniel, 
Silvester,  Beaumont,  Sir  John  Harrington, 
Forgetfulnesse  their  workes  would  over  run, 
But  that  in  Paper  they  immortally 
Doe  live  in  spight  of  Death,  and  cannot  dye. 

And  many  there  are  living  at  this  day 
Which  doe  in  paper  their  true  worth  display: 
As  Davis,  Dray  ton,  and  the  learned  Dun, 
Johnson,  and  Chapman,  Marston,  Middleton, 
With  Rowley,  Fletcher,  Withers,  Massinger, 
Heywood,  and  all  the  rest  where  e're  they  are, 
Must  say  their  lines  but  for  the  paper  sheete 
Had  scarcely  ground,  whereon  to  set  their  feete. 
[The  Praise  of  Hemp-seed,  1620;  in  the  1630  folio,  p.  72.] 

John  Finett,  1621. 

On  Twelfeday  following,  the  Ambassador  and  his  chiefe  fol 
lowers  were  brought  to  Court  by  the  Earle  of  Warwick  to  be 
present  at  a  Maske  [Jonson's  News  from  the  New  World] ;  he 
seated  as  before  with  the  King,  the  better  sort  of  the  other  on  a 
fourme  behind  the  Lords  (the  Lord  Treasurer  onely  and  the 
Marquesse  of  Hamilton  sitting  at  the  upper  end  of  it)  and  all 
the  rest  in  a  Box,  and  in  the  best  places  of  the  Scaffolds  on  the 
right  hand  of  his  Majesty.  No  other  Ambassadors  were  at  that 
time  present  or  invited. 

[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  p.  71.] 

Thomas  Locke,  1621. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  'Carleton,  January  7,  1621. 
Entertainments    given    to    the    Great    Monsieur    of    France 
[Cadenet],  at  his  first  audience  on  New  Year's  Eve;   on  the  4th 


TO   BEN  JONSON  121 

instant,  at  the  Parliament  House;  and  on  the  6th,  at  a  masque 
[Jonson's  News  from  the  New  World]  at  Whitehall,  where  none 
were  allowed  below  the  rank  of  a  Baron. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1621,  p.  212;  cf.  p.  214, 
no.  24.] 

John  Finett,  1621. 

When  it  was  thought,  that  the  Spanish  Ambassador  would 
have  held  it  an  indignity,  and  wrong  to  his  Master,  to  be  present 
at  a  Maske  [Jonson's  News  from  the  New  World]  seen  before  by  a 
French  Ambassador  (as  the  last,  and  the  same  Maske  had  been 
by  the  Mareshall  de  Cadenet  at  Twelftide)  he  appeared  at  it  on 
Shrove-Sunday  [February  n]  seated  at  the  left  hand  of  his 
Majesty  under  the  State)  different  from  what  had  been  formerly 
resolved  on,  that  no  Ambassador  in  regard  of  their  troublesome 
Puntillious)  should  any  more  sit  so  with  his  Majesty)  and  had 
his  family  placed  over  a  Box  at  the  Kings  right  hand,  in  which 
were  placed  the  Spanish  Ambassadors  two  Sons  together  with 
the  Arch-Dutchess  Agent. 

[Finetli  Philoxenis,  1656,  p.  73.] 

Sackville  Crow,  1621. 

Account  [by  Sackville  Crow]  of  his  disbursements  [for  Bucking 
ham],  out  of  i,ooo£.  received  from  Mr.  Packer,  including  ioo£. 
given  to  Ben  Jonson. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  July  21,  1621,  p.  277.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1621. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  August  4,  1621. 
On  yesterday  the  King  was  to  be  entertained  by  the  Lord  of 
Buckingham  at  Burley  in  Rutlandshire,  a  house  of  the  Lord  of 
Harington's  that  he  bought  of  the  Lady  of  Bedford,  where  was 
great  provision  of  Plays,  Masques,  and  all  manner  of  entertain 
ment,  and  this  day  the  Court  removes  to  Belvoir. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  709. 
Jonson's  Masque  of  the  Metamorphosed  Gipsies  was  given  at  Burley, 
August  3.  On  August  18  Chamberlain  wrote  to  Carleton  that  the 
King  was  so  much  pleased  with  his  entertainment  at  Buckingham's 
that  he  made  some  verses  on  the  subject;  see  State  Papers,  cxii, 
no.  77.] 


122  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

Joseph  Mead,  1621. 

Letter  to  Sir  Martin  Stutemlle,  September  75,  1621. 
A  friend  told  me  this  Faire  time  (Stourbridge)  that  Ben  Jonson 
was  not  knighted,  but  scaped  it  narrowly,  for  that  his  majestic 
would  have  done  it,  had  there  not  been  means  made  (himself 
not  unwilling)  to  avoyd  it. 

[Baker's  MSS.,  xxxii,   355;    reproduced  in  the   Gifford-Cunningham 
edition  of  Jonson,  1871,  i,  1.] 

Reversionary  Grant,  1621. 

A  reversionary  grant  from  the  King,  by  letters  patent  dated 
October  5,  1621,  of  the  Office  of  Master  of  the  Revels,  to  "  our 
beloved  servant  Benjamin  Jonson,  gentleman,  the  said  office  to 
be  held  and  enjoyed  by  him  and  his  assigns,  during  his  life,  from 
and  after  the  death  of  Sir  George  Buc,  and  Sir  John  Astley,  or  as 
soon  as  the  office  should  become  vacant  by  resignation,  forfeiture, 
or  surrender." 

[Grant  Book,  p.  346.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1621. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  October  27,  1621. 
Ben  Jonson's  pension  is  increased  from  100  marks  to  2oo£. 
A  ballad  in  his  masque  performed  at  Burghley  was  much  ap 
plauded. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  /,  1621,  p.  303.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1621. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  November  17,  1621. 
Dr.  Donne  is  to  be  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  so  that  if  Ben  Jonson 
could  be  Dean  of  Westminster,  St.  Paul's,  Westminster,  and 
Christchurch  would  each  have  a  poetical  Dean. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  1621,  p.  310.] 

Robert  Burton,  1621. 

And  where  shall  a  man  walk,  converse  with  whom,  in  what 
Province,  City,  and  not  meet  with  Signior  Deliro,  or  Hercules 
Furens,  Menades,  and  Corybantes? 


TO   BEN   JONSON  123 

Many  men  to  fetch  over  a  young  woman,  .  .  .  will  not  stick 
to  ...  feign  any  thing  comes  next,  .  .  .  how  bravely  they  will 
maintain  her,  like  any  Lady,  Countess,  Duchess,  or  Queen; 
they  shall  have  gowns,  tiers,  jewels,  coaches,  and  caroches,  choice 
diet, 

The  heads  of  Parrats,  tongues  of  Nightingals, 
The  brains  of  Peacocks,  and  of  Estriches, 
Their  bath  shall  be  the  juice  of  Gilliflowers, 
Spirit  of  Roses,  and  of  Violets, 
The  milk  of  Unicorns,  &c. 

as  old  Vulpone  courted  Ccelia  in  the  Comoedy.  .  .  . 

*         *         *         * 

'Tis  a  great  fault  (for  some  men  are  uxorii)  to  be  too  fond  of 
.their  wives,  to  dote  on  them  as  Senior  Deliro  on  his  Fallace.  .  .  . 

[The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  1621;  edited  by  A.  R.  Shiletto,  i,  134, 
iii,  141,  iii,  307.  Delirio  and  Fallace  appear  in  Every  Man  Out 
of  his  Humor;  the  verses  are  quoted  from  Volpone,  iii,  6.] 

John  Finett,  1622. 

Twelftide  appearing,  and  a  Maske  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Augurs] 
being  to  be  presented  by  the  Prince  and  other  Lords  and  Gentle 
men,  my  Lord  Chamberlaine  gave  me  in  charge  to  repaire  to 
the  Venetian  Ambassador,  Seigniour  Girolenio  Landi,  with  this 
message  as  from  himself  (with  request  of  his  Secrecy)  That  where 
as  he  had  told  him  two  or  three  days  before  that  no  Ambassador 
should  be  invited  to  the  Maske  (as  the  King  had  signified  to  him 
his  intention)  he  perceived  that  the  Spanish  Ambassador  (the 
Count  of  Gondemar)  had  under-hand  pressed  his  Majesty  to  be 
invited,  so  as  not  to  appear  to  have  doubled  with  him  in  what  he 
had  told  him,  he  bade  me  let  his  Excellency  know,  that  if  he 
would  for  forme  sake  be  invited  and  frame  some  excuse  for  his 
not  comming,  he  would  himselfe  (as  from  his  Majesty)  send  him 
an  invitation.  But  if  he  would  be  really  invited  and  come,  his 
request  should  be,  that  he  would  make  his  way  to  it  by  the 
Marquis  of  Buckingham.  When  I  had  delivered  this  message  to 
the  Ambassador  in  hearing  of  his  Secretary  (whom  he  called  in) 
he  made  answer,  That  for  excuse  of  his  not  comming  (though  for 


124  AN   ALLUSION-BOOK 

forme  invited)  he  would  never  give  that  advantage  to  the  Spanish 
Ambassador  to  say  of  him,  that  one  day  he  would  be  well,  and 
another  ill  for  his  satisfaction  (as  he  knew  some  had  been)  as  if 
he  stood  in  awe  of  him;  and  for  the  other  point  of  making  his 
way  by  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  he  would  never  do  it,  since 
he  had  alwayes  (he  said)  made  his  access  to  his  Majesties  Presence 
by  the  right  door  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  would  now  enter 
by  no  other. 

But  since  he  saw  (he  said)  what  this  tenderness  meant,  he 
desired  me  to  intreat  his  Lordship  in  his  name,  that  he  would  be 
pleased  to  go  directly  to  his  Majesty,  and  by  way  of  remem 
brance  (no  otherwise)  put  him  in  mind  from  him,  That  the  last 
year  the  French  Ambassador  Extraordinary  Monsieur  de  Cadenet, 
and  the  Ordinary  Monsieur  de  Tilliers  were  invited  to  the  Prince 
his  Maske  at  Christmas,  and  the  Spanish  Ambassador  to  the 
same  Maske  repeated  at  Shrovetide,  to  which  he  could  and  might 
justly  have  taken  Exceptions,  that  he  was  both  times  omitted, 
but  that  the  King  of  Bohemiaes  Ambassador,  being  not  then  (no 
more  then  he)  invited,  he  was  content  to  suffer  with  him;  but 
that  now  (though  he  might  in  reason  expect,  that  he  should  be 
(as  in  his  turne)  invited  alone,  he  would  not  be  so  punctuall, 
but  would  referre  all  to  his  Majesties  pleasure,  yet  if  any  other 
Ambassador  should  be  invited  he  would  expect  the  like  honour, 
as  a  respect  due  to  the  Prince  and  State  he  represented,  who  in 
all  publicke  places  had,  and  were  to  have  entertainment  il  par 
delle  teste  Coronate  equall  with  Crowned  Kings.  And  as  for  the 
Spanish  Ambassador  (he  said)  his  presence  at  the  Maske  should 
not  be  an  Exclusion  to  him  with  whom  though  he  had  no  cor 
respondency  of  business  nor  visits,  he  had  yet  of  Salutation  and 
civill  respects,  which  had  many  times  in  incounters  in  the 
Streets,  passed  between  them,  and  might  and  should  pass  on  his 
part  at  the  Mask,  if  he  should  there  meete  him:  This  message 
returned  by  me  to  the  Lord  Chamberlaine,  and  seconded  at  the 
same  time  by  the  Ambassadors  Secretary,  and  my  Lord  conveying 
it  to  the  King,  his  Majesty  was  pleased  that  he  should  be  (as  he 
was  the  next  day)  invited,  and  was  at  the  Maske  entertained 
with  the  like  respect  as  was  the  Spanish  Ambassador.  The 


TO  BEN  JONSON  125 

States  Ambassadors  were  not  at  the  same  time  invited  with 
respect  to  the  incompatibility  between  them  and  the  Spanish, 
and  the  Russian  then  here  might  with  as  little  reason  expect  it, 
in  regard  he  had  questioned  precedence  of  all  other  Kings 
Ministers.  The  French  Ambassador  had  an  Invitation  pro 
forma  tantum,  with  a  civill  request  of  his  next  comming  to  avoid 
question,  which  it  seemes,  he  tooke  not  with  discontent,  because 
his  Wife  and  Neece  were  there  present  invited. 
[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  91-92.] 

The  Venetian  Ambassador,  1622. 

Girolamo  Lando,  Venetian  Ambassador  in  England,  to  the  Doge 
and  Senate,  January  21  [0.5.  u],  1622. 

There  was  some  idea  not  to  invite  me  to  the  masque  [Jonson's 
Masque  of  Augurs],  which  is  one  of  the  two  annual  ceremonies 
attended  by  the  ambassadors.  France  was  not  asked  because 
Spain  had  been.  When  I  heard  that  they  proposed  to  leave  me 
out  because  Spain  and  I  did  not  visit  each  other,  I  tactfully 
contrived  to  convey  that  your  Serenity  ought  not  to  be  deprived 
of  the  customary  honour  on  that  account,  and  finally  I  gained 
my  point,  to  which  I  attached  importance.  The  ceremony  was 
most  sumptuous. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Venetian,  xvii,  216.] 

John  Finett,  1622. 

The  night  following  [i.e.  May  6,  but  really  May  5]  was  repre 
sented  a  Maske  [Jonson's  Masque  of  Augurs],  Acted  the  Christmas 
before  by  the  Prince  &c.  At  which  were  present  (seated  with  his 
Majesty)  the  Spanish  Ambassadors  Don  Carlos  de  Colonna,  and 
the  Count  de  Gondemar,  though  this  had  taken  his  leave  three 
or  four  dayes  before,  his  Son  and  other  their  Followers  of  quality 
had  their  seates  neere  the  King  in  a  Scaffold  on  his  right  hand; 
the  rest  of  them  were  bestowed  together  with  the  States,  and 
other  strangers  promiscuously  on  a  Scaffold  behind  the  King, 
over  the  entrance  there  on  the  left  hand  of  his  Majesty.  The 
young. Landsgrave  of  Hess  was  brought  in  by  me  the  back  way 
through  the  Garden,  and  supping  with  the  Duke  of  Lenox  (as 


126  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

did  also  the  Baron  of  Paperherin  remaining  here  after  the  depar 
ture  of  the  Emperours  Ambassador)  was  seated  amongst  the 
great  Ladies. 

The  French  Ambassador  Monsieur  de  Tillier  receiving  a  kind 
of  Invitation,  by  way  of  offer,  to  be  present  at  this  Maske, 
returned  answer,  that  he  most  humbly  kissed  his  Majesties 
handes  for  the  honour  intended  him;  but  his  stomach  would 
not  (he  said)  agree  with  cold  meat,  and  desired  therefore  his 
absence  might  be  pardoned,  hereby  pointing  at  the  Invitation 
and  presence  of  the  Spanish  Ambassador  in  the  first  place  at  the 
same  Maske  the  Christmas  before  now  repeated. 
[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  105-106.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1622. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  May  n,  1622. 
Barclay's  Argenis  has  grown  so  scarce  that  the  price  has  risen 
from  55.  to  145.;  the  King  has  ordered  Ben  Jonson  to  translate  it, 
but  he  will  not  be  able  to  equal  the  original.  .  .  .  The  King  is 
at  Greenwich  or  Eltham,  and  supped  with  the  Lord  Treasurer 
at  Chelsea  on  May-day.  At  a  masque  [Jonson 's  Masque  of 
Augurs]  he  sat  between  Gondomar  and  Don  Carlos  de  Colonna 
the  new  Spanish  Ambassador. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  /,  1622,  p.  390.] 

Title-pages,  1622. 

The  Masque  of  Augures.     With  several  Antimasques.     Pre 
sented  on  Twelfe  night.     1621.     [N.d.] 

Ben  Jonson  his  Motives.     1622.     8vo. 

[Anthony  a  Wood,  in  Athena  Oxonienses  (ed.  Bliss,  1815,  ii,  614), 
mentions  this  second  item  among  Jonson's  published  works; 
W.  C.  Hazlitt,  Hand-Book,  p.  307,  describes  it  as  "a  tract  relating 
to  his  differences  with  Inigo  Jones."  No  copy  is  known,  and 
Wood  may  have  been  in  error.] 

John  Harriot,  1622. 

The  Stationer  to  the  Reader. 

I  entreated  him  [Wither]  to  explain  his  meaning  in  certain 
obscure  passages;    but  he  told  me  how  that  were  to  take  away 


TO   BEN  JONSON  127 

the  employment  of  his  interpreters.  Whereas,  he  would  pur 
posely  leave  somewhat  remaining  doubtful,  to  see  what  Sir 
Politic  Would-be  and  his  companions  could  pick  out  of  it. 

[Prefixed   to   George   Wither's    Faire-Virtue,    1622,   and   signed   John 
Marriot.     Sir  Politic  Would-be  is  a  character  in  Volpone.} 

George  Wither,  1622. 

Readers;  I  speake  to  you  that  have  understanding;  when 
these  first  fruites  of  my  infant  Muses  shall  come  to  your  Judicious 
censures;  doe  not  looke  for  Spencers  or  Daniels  well-composed 
numbers;  or  the  deepe  conceits  of  now-flourishing  lohnson. 
Say,  'Tis  honest  plaine  matter,  and  there's  as  much  as  I  expect. 
(To  the  Reader,  p.  17.) 

****** 
But  what  need  any  man  therein  speake  more 
Than  Divine  Sidney  hath  already  done? 
For  whom  (though  he  deceas'd  ere  I  begun) 
I  have  oft  sighed,  and  bewailed  my  Fate, 
That  brought  me  forth  so  many  yeeres  too  late 
To  view  that  Worthy;  And  now  thinke  not  you 
Oh  Daniel,  Dray  ton,  lohnson,  Chapman,  how 
I  long  to  see  you  with  your  fellow  Peeres, 
Sylvester  matchlesse,  glory  of  these  yeeres: 
I  hitherto  have  onely  heard  your  fames, 
And  know  you  yet  but  by  your  Workes  and  Names : 
The  little  time  I  on  the  earth  have  spent, 
Would  not  allow  me  any  more  content : 
I  long  to  know  you  better,  that's  the  truth, 
I  am  in  hope  you'l  not  disdaine  my  Youth: 
For  know  you  Muses  Darlings,  He  not  crave 
A  fellowship  amongst  you  for  to  have, 
Oh  no ;  for  though  my  ever-willing-hart 
Have  vow'd  to  love  and  praise  You  and  your  Art, 
And  though  that  I  your  stile  doe  now  assume, 
I  doe  not,  nor  I  will  not  so  presume ; 
I  claime  not  that  too-worthy  name  of  Poet; 
It  is  not  yet  deserv'd  by  me,  I  know  it: 


128  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

/ 

Grant  me  I  may  but  on  your  Muses  tend, 
And  be  enroul'd  their  Servant,  or  their  Friend ; 
And  if  desert  hereafter  worthy  make  me, 
Then  for  a  Fellow  (if  it  please  you)  take  me.     (P.  292  ff.) 

[Abuses  Stript  and  Whipt,  1622,  reprinted  in  the  Spenser  Society  Publi 
cations,  1871.1 

Reversionary  Grant,  1622. 

Grant  to  Wm.  Painter  of  the  reversion  of  the  office  of  Master  of 
the  Revels,  after  Ben  Jonson,  who  now  holds  the  reversion  after 
Sir  Geo.  Buck  and  Sir  John  Ashley. 

[Calendar  of  Slate  Papers,  Domestic,  James  /,  1622,  p.  432.] 

Sir  William  Burlase,  about  1622. 

*     The  Painter  to  the  Poet. 
To  paint  thy  worth,  if  rightly  I  did  know  it, 
And  were  but  painter  half  like  thee,  a  poet: 
Ben,  I  would  shew  it. 

But  in  this  skill  my  unskilful  pen  will  tire, 
Thou,  and  thy  worth  will  still  be  found  far  higher; 
And  I  a  liar. 

Then,  what  a  painter's  here!  or  what  an  eater 
Of  great  attempts!  when  as  his  skill's  no  greater, 
And  he  a  cheater? 

Then,  what  a  poet's  here!  whom,  by  confession 
Of  all  with  me,  to  paint  without  digression, 
There's  no  expression. 

[From  the  Gifford-Cunningham  edition  of  Jonson,  1871,  iii,  330.  In 
his  Underwoods  Jonson  prints  a  reply,  The  Poet  to  the  Painter,  An 
Answer.]' 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1623. 

Upon  New-years  day  at  night  The  Alchemist  was  acted  by  the 
kings  players. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  1917, 
Plays  and  Masques  at  Court,  p.  49.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON.  129 

John  Finett,  1623. 

A  Maske  [Jonson's  Time  Vindicated]  to  be  presented  by  the 
Prince,  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham,  and  other  Gentlemen  on 
Twelf night,  1622.  was  for  that  day,  and  a  second  remitted  till 
Sunday  the  ninth  of  January,  principally  with  regard  to  his 
Majesties  indisposition,  but  as  some  thought,  not  without 
expectation  that  the  States  Ambassadors  would  first  be  gone,  to 
avoide  the  distaste  that  might  be  taken  from  their  not  Invitation, 
whereto  it  seemed  his  Majesty  (for  some  Spanish  respect  as  was 
thought)  had  no  great  affection.  But  they  staying,  (their 
business  with  the  Merchants,  about  composing  the  East-Indian 
differences  being  not  yet  concluded)  divers  underhand  passages, 
and  discourses  for  and  against  the  sight  of  the  Maske,  were 
carried  to  and  fro  as  much  as  might  be  to  content  them,  and  not 
displease  others.  For  first,  they  had  an  offer  made  them  to  have  a 
Boxe  appointed  them  apart  and  by  themselves  only,  which  they 
absolutely  refused,  Ambassadors  Ordinarie  before  having  had 
(said  they)  the  honour  to  sit  with  his  Majesty  in  the  same  place 
together  with  the  French,  and  other  Kings  Ambassadors  (as 
also  with  the  Spanish,  till  that  Question  fell  between  him  and 
Sir  Noell  Carori)  but  the  intention  in  truth  was,  that  they  should 
not  then  be  invited  (at  least  to  be  ranked  in  publick,  as  they 
pretented  it  to  be  their  due  al  par  delle  Teste  Coronate]  and 
reasons  were  framed  to  keep  them  off  from  discontent,  as  well  as 
from  their  apparence  there,  but  they  might  seem  not  of  the 
Substantiallest.  [The  English  Court  was  forced  in  the  end  to 
refuse  outright  to  invite  the  Ambassadors  from  Holland  to  the 
masque.]  .  .  .  Onely  a  dozen  of  their  followers  had  places 
assigned  them  over  the  Lord  Chamberlains  Box  at  the  entrance 
into  the  Banquetting  House  from  the  Princes  Galleries.  .  .  . 
The  French  Ambassador  that  night,  and  the  Venetian  supped 
with  the  Duke  of  Lenox,  and  entered  the  Roome  with  the  King, 
both  seated  there  on  his  left  hand;  the  French  even  with  him, 
and  the  Venetian  somewhat  more  forward. 

[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  115-16.  Cf.  Public  Record  Office,  Lord 
Chamberlain's  Books,  Class  Miscellaneous  5,  No.  I,  p.  115,  May 
7,  1622.  See  also  Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  Jamet  I, 
1623,  p.  480.] 


1 30  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1623. 

Upon  Sonday,  being  the  igth  of  January,  the  Princes  Masque 
[Time  Vindicated]  appointed  for  Twelfe  daye,  was  performed. 
The  speeches  and  songs  composed  by  Mr.  Ben.  Johnson,  and  the 
scene  made  by  Mr.  Inigo  Jones,  which  was  three  tymes  changed 
during  the  tyme  of  the  masque:  where  in  the  first  that  was 
discovered  was  a  prospective  of  Whitehall,  with  the  Banqueting 
House;  the  second  was  the  Masquers  in  a  cloud;  and  the  third 
a  forrest.  The  French  embassador  was  present. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  50.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1623. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  25,  1623. 
My  very  goode  Lord:  yt  is  somewhat  long  since  I  wrote  and 
longer  since  I  heard  from  you  till  yesterday  that  I  receved  yors 
of  the  27th  of  this  present,  the  cause  of  my  silence  was  the  often 
deferring  of  the  maske  [Time  Vindicated]  and  the  k's  removing 
caused  by  his  indisposition,  for  here  was  nothing  to  write  of  but 
dauncing  and  feasting  wch  was  more  frequent  all  this  Christmas 
then  ever  I  knew  or  remember,  and  continues  ever  since  even 
till  now,  but  the  departure  of  the  French  ambassadors  Lady  wth 
her  niece  madamoiselle  S*  Luc  (who  bare  a  principall  part  in  all 
these  meetings)  was  the  cause  that  the  maske  could  not  well  be 
put  of  longer  then  sonday  last,  the  french  and  Venetian  am 
bassadors  were  present  and  they  say  yt  was  performed  reasonablie 
well  both  for  the  device,  and  for  the  handsome  conveyance  and 
varietie  of  the  scene  whereof  Innigo  Jones  hath  the  whole  com 
mendation.  Ben  Johnson  they  say  is  like  to  heare  of  yt  on 
both  sides  of  the  head  for  personating  George  Withers  a  poet  or 
poetaster  as  he  termes  him,  as  hunting  after  fame  by  beeing  a 
crono-mastix  or  whipper  of  the  time,  wch  is  become  so  tender 
an  argument  that  yt  must  not  be  touched  either  in  iest  or  earnest. 

[State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  vol.  cxxxvii,  no.  27.  Cf.  Nichols, 
Progresses,  iii,  802;  Court  and  Times  of  James  I,  ii,  356.  Miss 
Sullivan,  in  Court  Masques  of  James  I,  p.  246,  dates  the  letter 
January  20,  but  internal  evidence  points  to  the  later  date.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  131 

John  Chamberlain,  1624. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  j,  1624. 
Here  is  much  practising  against  the  masque  [Neptune's  Tri 
umph]  at  Twelfth-night,  and  many  meetings  at  Noblemen's 
houses  in  the  afternoons;  as,  yesterday  the  Prince,  with  the 
rest  of  the  retinue,  were  at  the  Lord  of  Bridgewater's,  where  they 
had  a  great  banquet,  and  afterwards  went  home  to  supper,  as 
the  usual  manner  is. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  947.] 

Title-page,  1624? 

Neptunes  Triumph  for  the  returne  of  Albion,  celebrated  in  a 
Masque  at  the  Court  on  the  Twelfth  night  1623. 

[This  masque  was  prepared  for  Twelfth  Night,  but  was  not  presented. 
The  above  edition  has  neither  printer's  name  nor  date.  The 
statement  on  the  title-page,  combined  with  the  details  of  the 
presentation,  suggest  that  it  was  printed  in  anticipation  of  the 
actual  performance.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1624. 

Upon  Twelfe  Night  [January  6,  1624],  the  maske  [Neptune's 
Triumph]  being  put  off,  More  Dissemblers  besides  Women,  by 
the  King's  company,  the  prince  only  being  there. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  51.! 

John  Finett,  1624. 

A  Maske  [Neptune's  Triumph]  being  prepared  by  the  Prince 
(with  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  others  &c.)  for  Twelfnight 
a  message  was  sent  from  his  Majesty  to'  the  French  Ambassador 
(by  whom  carried  I  could  not  learne)  to  this  purpose.  That 
whereas  there  was  a  Maske  towards,  and  that  his  Majesty  was 
desirous  that  the  Marquess  de  la  Inojosa,  who  had  not  scene 
any  in  this  Kingdome,  should  be  at  it,  he  intended  to  visit  him. 
also  (the  French  Ambassador,  and  in  the  first  place,  but  would 
take  it,  as  a  respect  to  his  satisfaction,  if  (to  avoid  the  incounter, 
and  question  about  their  Precedence)  he  might  before  hand  know, 
that  he  would  be  absent,  framing  some  such  excuse,  as  he  should 


132  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

think  fittest.  To  this  the  Ambassador  returning  at  that  instant 
no  satisfying  answer,  he  soone  after  intreated  the  Earle  of 
March  to  present  one  from  him  to  his  Majesty  in  these  words. 
That  about  two  yeares  since  upon  the  like  occasion,  he  had 
received  the  like  message,  but  knowing  how  strongly  his  Majesty 
stood  then  affected  to  the  Allience  with  Spaine,  he  would  give 
him  no  distast,  but  with  excuse  of  his  indisposition  kept  himselfe 
absent,  that  if  he  should  now  againe  do  the  like,  he  should  in  the 
sight  of  the  world  put  a  scorne  upon  himselfe,  and  do  an  un 
answerable  wrong  to  the  King  his  Master,  between  whom,  and 
the  King  of  Spaine  his  Majesty  knew  (if  he  would  be  pleased  to 
-declare  his  knowledge)  that  there  was  no  question  to  be  made  of 
the  right  of  Precedence;  that  in  this  regard,  he  humbly  beseecht 
his  Majesty  to  proceed  plainely,  and  fairely  without  useing  any 
more  colourable,  or  alternative  Invitations  (as  he  had  done,) 
which  might  imply  a  Parity,  in  no  sort  to  be  yeelded  to  by  the 
King  his  Master,  in  whom  was  the  absolute  right  of  Priority. 
That  if  his  Majesty  intended  to  invite  him;  he  hoped  he  would 
intend  also  to  entertain  him  with  fitting  respects,  for  come  he 
would,  if  he  should  be  invited,  and  if  he  should  not,  and  the  other 
{the  Spanish  Ambassador]  should,  he  would  protest  against  it, 
and  immediately  returne  home  to  the  King  his  Master  with  the 
account  of  his  Treatment.  That  further  his  Majesty  would  be 
pleased  to  consider,  that  whereas  he  was  at  that  instant  sending 
a  Person  of  quality  to  the  King  his  Master,  he  might  with  reason 
expect,  that  whatsoever  want,  or  omission  he  (the  French 
Ambassador)  should  meet  with  here,  it  would  be  returned  in 
France  in  the  same  measure.  This  message  (the  substance 
whereof  he  repeated  to  me  two  or  three  dayes  after)  was  brought 
little  sooner  to  the  King,  then  it  was  made  known  to  the  Marquess 
de  la  Inojosa,  who  instantly  sent  for  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies, 
and  in  a  storming  manner  gave  him  a  message  (repeating  it 
twice  or  thrice)  to  be  delivered  to  his  Majesty  by  him  in  this 
sence;  that  he  knew  what  respect  had  been  formerly  given  the 
King  of  Spaines  (his  Masters  Ministers)  especially  those  that 
had  been  here  Extraordinary,  and  what  alternative  course  of 
invitation  had  been  used  with  them,  and  the  French;  that  he 


TO  BEN  JONSON  133 

looked  for  no  less  honour  to  be  done  to  him  then  to  his  Prede 
cessors,  and  that  since  it  was  both  his  right  and  his  turne  to  be 
now  invited,  he  would  expect  it,  beseeching  his  Majesty  not 
underhand  to  invite  the  French  Ambassadors  (as  he  knew  (he 
said)  he  was  intended)  but  to  invite  him  directly,  and  openly 
first,  and  only,  that  so  if  (he  Inojosa)  must  be  made  a  Subject 
for  gazers  abroad,  it  might  be  to  some  purpose,  and  that  he 
might  have  a  just,  and  an  apparent  cause  to  write  to  his  Master 
of  the  wrong  done  him  here  in  his  Minister,  with  other  words  in 
an  high  Spanish  Stile  to  that  purpose,  which  when  the  Master  of 
the  Ceremonies  had  twice  or  thrice  requested  him  to  temper, 
to  take  time  to  think  better  of  them,  and  to  communicate  his 
intended  message  with  his  Collegue  (Don  Carlos)  he  only  yeelded 
to  satisfie  him  in  this  last  of  communicating  his  intention  (as  he 
did  that  night  with  that  much  more  temperate  and  considerate 
Gentleman)  from  whom  wresting  (as  Don  Carlos  himself  after 
acknowledged)  a  consent  for  the  carriage  of  that  message  to  the 
King  by  Sir  Lewes  Lewkner,  the  Maske  was  thereupon  respited  &c. 

[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  133-35.  See  also  Lord  Chamberlain's 
Office,  Class  Miscellaneous,  5,  no.  I,  pp.  148  ff.,  reprinted  by  Miss 
Mary  Sullivan,  Court  Masques  of  James  I,  p.  247.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1624. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  77,  1624. 
The  Masque  [Neptune's  Triumph]  for  Twelfth-night  was  put 
off  by  reason  of  the  King's  indisposition,  as  was  pretended;  but 
the  true  cause  is  thought  to  be  the  competition  of  the  French  and 
Spanish  Ambassadors,  which  could  not  be  accommodated  in 
Presence. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  960.] 

John  Chamberlain,  1624. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  June  19,  1624. 
Sends  convivial  laws  of  Ben  Jonson,  laid  down  for  a  chamber 
in  the  inn  of  the  Devil  and  St.  Dunstan,  by  Temple  Bar. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  clxviii,  no.  8.] 


134 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 


John  Chamberlain,  1624. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  August  21,  1624. 
Young  Maynard  wrote  a  masque,  which  was  acted  before  the 
King  at  Burghley,  with  little  applause;    Ben  Jonson  wrote  one 
to  be  performed  before  the  King  at  Killingworth,  whilst  the 
King  was  at  Warwick. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  James  I,  vol.  clxxi,  no.  66.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1624. 

1624,  December  27.  Upon  St.  John's  night,  [the  prince]  and 
the  duke  of  Brunswick  being  there,  The  Fox,  by  the  [King's 
Men].  At  Whitehall. 

For  the  Palsgrave's  Company;  A  new  Play,  called,  The  Masque. 
The  masque  book  was  allowed  of  for  the  press ;  and  was  brought 
me  by  Mr.  Jon[son]  the  2Qth  December  1624. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  pp.  52, 
30,  41.  The  second  entry  seems  to  be  confused;  for  a  possible 
explanation  see  op.  cit.,  p.  30,  note  3.] 

A[braham]  H[olland],  1625. 

A  generall  Folly  reigneth,  and  harsh  Fate 

Hath  made  the  World  it  selfe  insatiate! 

It  hugges  these  Monsters  and  deformed  things, 

Better  than  what  lohnson  or  Drayton  sings: 

As  in  North-Villages,  where  euery  line 

Of  Plumpton  Parke  is  held  a  worke  diuine. 

[A  Continued  Inquisition  against  Paper-Persecutors,  in  A.  B.  Grosart» 
The  Complete  Works  of  John  Davies,  1878,  ii,  80.] 

John  Finett,  1625. 

The  fourth  of  January  I  received  Order  for  the  invitation  of 
the  French  Ambassador  (the  Marquess  de  Fiat)  the  Venetian 
Seignior  Pesaro  (not  long  before  arrived  here  in  place  of  Seignior 
Valeresso)  and  two  Agents  Monsieur  Brumeau  for  the  King  of 
Spaine,  and  Monsieur  Van  Mai  for  the  Archdutches)  to  a  Maske 
[Jonson's  The  Fortunate  Isles]  of  the  Prince,  with  certaine  Lords 
and  Gentlemen  on  Twelf night.  I  propounded,  and  obtained  of 


TO  BEN  JONSON  135 

the  Venetian  that  he  would  (Sir  Lewes  Lewkner  being  then  absent) 
call  in  his  way  to  Court,  and  accompany  thither  the  French 
Ambassadors,  that  I  might  with  one  labour  attend  them  both, 
and  introduce  them  (as  I  had  directions)  by  the  Parke  through 
the  Galleries  at  eight  of  the  clock  at  night  (the  place,  and  hour 
assigned  also  the  Agents)  but  being  the  next  morning,  assured 
by  the  Prince  himself,  that  the  Maske  was  to  be  put  off  till 
Sunday  the  ninth  of  January,  I  was  upon  his  Highness  intimation 
sent  to  disinvite  them  all  which  I  performed  with  the  French 
personally,  and  with  the  rest  by  Letter.  But  on  Saturday  re- 
invited  them  for  the  next  day,  when  about  four  of  the  clock,  the 
Marquess  Hamilton,  (Lord  Steward  of  his  Majesties  Household) 
then  supplying  the  place  of  the  Lord  Chamberlaine  indisposed) 
gave  me  in  charge  to  repaire  to  the  Ambassadors,  and  to  let  them 
know,  that  in  regard  of  the  inconveniency  that  would  grow  from 
the  intrusion  of  multitudes  of  people  by  the  way  of  the  Galleries 
(if  they  were  left  open)  he  desired  they  would  enter  the  Court  by 
the  great  Gate,  and  thence  pass  for  their  repose  to  the  Marquesses 
Lodgings,  till  the  King  should  come  by,  and  take  them  along 
with  him.  This  intimation  was  given  also  to  the  two  Agents, 
who  had  the  same  Order  for  their  Entrance  as  the  former,  but 
were  likewise  diverted,  and  conducted  to  a  Roome  apart  in  my 
Lord  Stewards  Lodgins,  which  was  so  ordered  of  design  to  avoid 
their,  and  the  French  Ambassadors  incounter,  not  with  appre 
hension  of  strife  for  place,  their  difference  of  qualities  of  Agents 
and  Ambassadors  clearing  all  such  question,  but  of  distast 
perhaps  to  either  from  their  incompatibility;  a  regard  taken 
also  in  placing  their  Followers  in  severall  Scaffolds  to  avoid 
differences  and  wranglings  that  might  occure  even  amongst 
those  of  inferior  condition,  if  seated  promiscuously  together  in  a 
Scaffold;  a  provisionable  care  that  the  King  himself  had,  and 
expressed  it  that  day  at  his  Dinner.  The  Ambassadors  were 
seated  with  the  King  (as  accustomed)  and  the  Agents  bestowed 
amongst  the  Lords,  beneath  Earles,  and  above  Barons. 

[Finetti  Philoxenis,  1656,  pp.  143-44.  See  also  Lord  Chamberlain's 
Office,  Class  Miscellaneous,  5,  no.  i,  pp.  164  ff.,  reprinted  by  Miss 
Mary  Sullivan,  Court  Masques  of  James  I,  p.  248.] 


I36  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Chamberlain,  1625. 

Letter  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  January  8,  1625. 
We  should  have  had  a  Masque  [The  Fortunate  Isles]  on  Twelfth- 
night,  but  it  was  put  off  till  to-morrow,  and  perhaps  longer  or 
altogether,  as  it  was  last  year. 

[The  Progresses  of  King  James  the  First,  J.  B.  Nichols,  1828,  iii,  1027.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1625. 

Upon  Twelve  night  [January  6,  1625],  the  Masque  [The  For 
tunate  Isles]  being  put  of,  and  the  prince  only  there,  Tu  Quoque 
by  the  Queene  of  Bohemias  servants.  At  Whitehall,  1624. 

Upon  the  Sonday  night  following,  being  the  ninthe  of  January 
1624,  the  Masque  [The  Fortunate  Isles]  was  performed. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  52.] 

Title-page,  1625? 

The  Fortunate  Isles  and  their  Vnion,  celebrated  in  a  Masque 
design'd  for  the  Court,  on  the  Twelfth  night.  1624. 

Caleb  Morley,  about  1625. 

Coppie  of  a  noate  of  Mr.  Morleys,  had  fro  Oxford.  Whereas 
Caleb  Morley  Mr.  of  Arts  &  sometymes  fellowe  of  Baliel  Colledg 
in  ye  Universitie  of  Oxon  hath  intended  &  laboured  a  speedie 
and  certaine  Course  for  ye  attayning  &  retayninge  of  languages  & 
other  partes  of  good  literature  purposed  for  ye  generall  ease  & 
benifit  of  ye  studious  in  either  kinde.  We  whose  names  are 
under  written  &  of  ye  same  Universitie  purpose  &  promise  our 
best  furtherance  &  assistance  therein  on  his  behalfe  by  our 
Countenance  &  Labours  to  our  powers  not  onlie  to  welcome  but 
also  to  helpe  such  a  labour  pretended  for  ours  provided  that  any 
Contribution  of  money  from  us  be  always  excepted. 

Sir  Robert  Cotton,  Sir  Henry  Spilman,  Dr.  Rives  (?)  Advoc. 
Regis,  Dr.  Duck,  Cancillar,  Londi.,  Dr.  Baskevile,  Med.  Dr.,  Dr. 

Andrews,  Med.  Dr.,  Mr.  S ,  Theolog.,  Mr.  Adsworth  (?), 

Theolog.,  Mr.  Selden,  Gentl.,  Mr.  Benjam.  Johnson,  Mr.  Mathew 
Bust,  Mr.  of  Eaton  School,  Mr.  Farnaby,  Heynes  (?),  Mr. 
Robinson  Scholar  of  Winchester,  S. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  137 

[MS.  in  SI.  1466  ff.,  f.  16;  reprinted  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Modern  Philology, 
xi,  287.  Many  great  persons  seem  to  have  interested  themselves 
in  Morley's  project.  On  October  28,  1624,  Conway  writes  to  the 
Bishop  of  London  saying  that  "the  King  wishes  his  opinion  on  a 
new  alphabet  invented  by  Mr.  Morley,  a  minister,  for  the  more 
easy  attaining  of  languages,  for  the  sole  printing  and  publishing 
of  which  he  requests  a  patent."] 

Richard  James,  1625. 

To  Mr.  Benj:  Jhonson  on  his  Staple  of  News  first  presented. 
Sir,  if  my  robe  and  garbe  were  richly  worth 
The  dainger  of  a  statute  comming  forth, 
Were  I  or  man  of  law  or  law  maker, 
Or  man  of  Courte  to  be  an  undertaker; 
For  judgement  would  I  then  comme  in  and  say 
The  manye  honours  of  your  staple  play: 
But  being  nothing  so,  I  dare  not  haile 
The  mightie  floates  of  ignorance,  whoe  faile 
With  winde  and  tide;   their  Sires,  as  stories  tell, 
In  our  eight  Harriets  time  crownd  Skeltons  Nell, 
And  ye  foule  Boss  of  Whittington  with  greene 
Bayes,  which  on  living  frontes  are  rarelye  seene; 
Soone  sprung  soone  fading;  but  deserving  verse, 
Must  take  more  lasting  glorie  from  ye  herse; 
When  vulgars  loose  their  sight,  and  sacred  peeres 
Of  poetrie  conspire  to  make  your  yeeres 
Of  memorie  eternall,  then  you  shalbe  read 
By  all  our  race  of  Thespians,  board  and  bed; 
And  banck  and  boure,  vallie  and  mountaine  will 
Rejoice  to  knowe  somme  pieces  of  your  skill ; 
Your  rich  Mosaique  workes,  inled  by  arte 
And  curious  Industrie  with  everie  parte 
And  choice  of  all  ye  Anncients. — So  I  write, 
Though  for  your  sake  I  dare  not  say  and  fighte. 
[The  Poems,  etc.,  of  Richard  James,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1880,  p.  221.] 

Richard  James,  1625. 

Some  lohnson,  Dray  ton,  or  some  Herick  would 
Before  this  time  have  characted  the  Mould 


138  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Of  his  perfections ;  and  in  living  Lines, 

Have  made  them  knowne  before  these  mourning  times. 

[The  Muses  Dirge,  consecrated  to  the  Remembrance  of  the  High  and  Mightie 
Monarch,  James,  1625;  in  The  Poems,  etc.,  of  Richard  James,  ed. 
A.  B.  Grosart,  1880,  p.  121.] 

Richard  James,  about  1625. 

Ad  Doct.  Franciscu  James. 

Tertullianus,  Cyprianus,  Chrysostomus  acriter  invehunter  in 
artem  Roscianam  et  spectacula.  *  *  *  Credo  si  reviviscerent 
ja  patres  illi  libenter  spectarent  ingeniu  foecundissimi  Beniamini 
Jonsoni,  quern  ut  Thuanus  de  Petro  Ronsardo  censeo  cu  omni 
antiquitate  comparandu  si  compta  et  plena  sensibus  poemata 
ejus  et  scenica  spectemus:  cui  non  Catullianum  illud  et  Martialis 
sunt  in  apologia.  Nam  castu  esse  decet  piu  poetam  ipsum: 
versiculos  nihil  necesse  est,  et 

innocuous  censura  potest  permittere  lusus 
Lasciva  est  nobis  pagina,  vita  proba  est: 

Sed  chartam  amat  vita  innocentiorem,  ut  quam  reposcet  in 
sevu  longu  elegantiorum  manus,  cum  pulvis  et  umbra  tantu 
fuerit  tarn  virginis  chartse  pater: 

Ede  tuos  tandem  populo  Jonsone  libellos 
Et  cultum  docto  pectore  prefer  opus 
Quod  nee  Cecropise  damnent  Pandionis  artes 

Nee  sileant  nostri,  prsetereantque  senes. 
Ante  fores  stantem  dubitas  admittere  famam 

Teque  piget  famae  praemia  ferre  tuae 
Post  te  victurae  per  te  quoque  vivere  chartae 
Incipiant,  cineri  gloria  fera  venit. 

[From  a  MS.  volume  of  letters  by  Richard  James;  reprinted  by  A.  B. 
Grosart  in  his  edition  of  The  Poems,  etc.  of  Richard  James,  1880, 
pp.  lv-lvi.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1626. 

John  Waterson 

14  Aprill 

Entred  for  his  Copie  under  the  handes  of  Master  Doctor 
Worrall  and  Master  Islip  warden  A  booke  Called  The 

Staple  of  Newes  being  a  Comedie vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  156.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  139 

William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  1626. 

Of  the  Entertainments  he  made  for  King  Charles  the  First. 

When  his  Majesty  was  going  into  Scotland  to  be  crowned,  he 
took  his  way  through  Nottinghamshire;  and  lying  at  Worksop 
Manor,  hardly  two  miles  distant  from  Welbeck,  where  my  Lord 
then  was,  my  Lord  invited  his  Majesty  thither  to  a  dinner,  which 
he  was  graciously  pleased  to  accept  of.  This  entertainment 
cost  my  Lord  between  four  and  five  thousand  pounds;  which 
his  majesty  liked  so  well,  that  a  year  after  his  return  out  of 
Scotland,  he  was  pleased  to  send  my  Lord  word,  that  her  Majesty 
the  Queen  was  resolved  to  make  a  progress  into  the  northern 
parts,  desiring  him  to  prepare  the  like  entertainment  for  her, 
as  he  had  formerly  done  for  him.  Which  my  Lord  did,  and 
endeavoured  for  it  with  all  possible  care  and  industry,  sparing 
nothing  that  might  add  splendour  to  that  feast,  which  both  their 
Majesties  were  pleased  to  honour  with  their  presence:  Ben 
Jonson  he  employed  in  fitting  such  scenes  and  speeches  as  he 
could  best  devise;  and  sent  for  all  the  gentry  of  the  country  to 
come  and  wait  on  their  Majesties;  and,  in  short,  did  all  that  ever 
he  could  imagine,  to  render  it  great,  and  worthy  their  royal 
acceptance. 

[The  Life  of  William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  by  Margaret  Caven 
dish,  1667,  ed.  C.  H.  Firth,  1886,  pp.  190-92.] 

Michael  Drayton,  1627. 

Of  Poets  and  Poesie. 

Next  these,  learn'd  lohnson,  in  this  List  I  bring, 
Who  had  drunke  deepe  of  the  Pierian  spring, 
Whose  knowledge  did  him  worthily  prefer, 
And  long  was  Lord  here  of  the  Theater, 
Who  in  opinion  made  our  learn 'st  to  sticke, 
Whether  in  Poems  rightly  dramatique, 
Strong  Seneca  or  Plautus,  he  or  they, 
Should  beare  the  Buskin,  or  the  Socke  away. 
[The  Battaile  of  Agincourt,  etc.,  1627,  p.  207.] 


140  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Tradition,  before  1628. 

Ben :  Johnson  was  at  a  taverne  and  in  comes  Bishoppe  Corbett 
(but  not  so  then)  into  the  next  roome ;  Ben :  Johnson  calls  for  a 
quart  of  raw  wine,  gives  it  the  tapster:  "Sirrha,"  sayes  he, 
"carry  this  to  the  gentleman  in  the  next  chamber,  and  tell  him 
I  sacrifice  my  service  to  him";  the  fellow  did  so,  and  in  those 
words:  "Friend,"  sayes  Dr.  Corbett,  "I  thanke  him  for  his  love; 
but  pr'y  thee  tell  hym  from  me  hee's  mistaken,  for  sacrifices 
are  allwayes  burn't." 

[Printed  from  Sir  Nicholas  L'Estrange,  Merry  Passages  and  Jests, 
Harl.  MS.  6395,  by  William  J.  Thorns,  in  Anecdotes  and  Traditions, 
Camden  Society,  1839,  PP-  29~3°-] 

London  City  Records,  1628. 

Martis  secundo  die  Septembris  1628  Annoque  R  Rs  Caroli 
Angliae,  etc.,  quarto. 

Item:  this  daie  Beniamyn  Johnson  Gent  is  by  this  Court 
admitted  to  be  the  Citties  Chronologer  in  place  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Middleton  deceased,  to  have  hold  exercise  and  enioye  the  same 
place  and  to  have  and  receive  for  that  his  service  out  of  the 
Chamber  of  London  the  some  of  one  hundred  Nobles  per  annum 
to  contynue  duringe  the  pleasure  of  this  Court  and  the  First 
quarters  payment  to  beginn  att  Michaelmas  next. 
[Extract  from  the  City  Records,  Rep.  No.  42,  fol.  271.] 

Examination,  1628. 

Examination  of  Benjamin  Jonson,  of  Westminster,  gent., 
taken  by  Attorney  General  Heath.  Saw  certain  verses  begin 
ning,  "Enjoy  thy  bondage,"  and  ending,  "England's  ransom 
here  doth  lie,"  and  entitled,  "To  his  confined  Friend,  &c.,"  at 
Sir  Robert  Cotton's  house  at  Westminster.  Coming  there,  as  he 
often  does,  these  verses  lying  on  the  table  after  dinner,  he  was 
asked  concerning  them  as  if  he  had  been  their  author.  Protests 
the  contrary,  on  his  Christianity  and  hope  of  salvation.  Heard 
of  them  with  detestation.  Heard  by  common  fame  that  one 
Zouch  Townley  made  them,  a  scholar  and  a  divine,  and  a  student 
of  Christ  Church,  Oxford.  On  a  Sunday  after  examinant  had 


TO  BEN  JONSON  141 

heard  Mr.  Townley  preach  at  St.  Margaret's  in  Westminster, 
Mr.  Townley  taking  a  liking  to  a  dagger  with  a  white  haft 
which  examinant  wore  at  his  girdle,  examinant  gave  it  to  hirty 
two  nights  after,  being  invited  by  Townley  to  supper,  but  without 
any  relation  to  these  verses. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers.,  vol.  cxix,  no.  33,  October  26,  1628.] 

William  Davenant,  1629. 

Flo[rello].     D'ye  walk  like  Neptune  in  a  masque 
Attended  on  by  two  o'  th'  calm  winds? 
[The  Just  Italian,  IV.  i.     The  allusion  is  to  Jonson's  Fortunate  Isles.] 

Thomas  May,  1629. 

To  my  worthy  friend,  John  Ford. 

'Tis  said,  from  Shakspeare's  mine  your  play  you  drew: 
What  need? — when  Shakspeare  still  survives  in  you; 
But  grant  it  were  from  his  vast  treasury  reft, 
That  plund'rer  Ben  ne'er  made  so  rich  a  theft. 

[Reprinted  in  Malone's  Shakespeare,  ed.  Boswell,  1821,  i,  405.  The 
play  referred  to  is  The  Lover's  Melancholy.  Cf.  the  entry  "En- 
dymion  Porter,  before  1635."] 

Francis  Lenton,  1629. 

He  better  loves  Ben  Johnson's  booke  of  playes, 
But  that  therein  of  wit  he  finds  such  plenty, 
That  hee  scarce  understands  a  jest  of  twenty. 

[The  Young  Gallants  Whirligigg,  1629;  in  Shakespeare  Society  Publica 
tions,  1846,  p.  126.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1629. 

1628-9,  January  19.     The  New  Inn,  by  Ben  Jonson,  licensed. 
(The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  32.] 

Treasurer  of  Westminster  Abbey,  1629. 

Jan.  19,  i628[9).  Given  by  Dr.  Price  to  Mr.  Beniamin  Jhonson 
in  his  sickness  and  want;  wth  consent  of  Dr.  Price,  Dr.  Sutton, 
Dr.  Grant,  Dr.  Holt,  Dr.  Darel,  and  my  Lord  of  Lincoln's  good 
likinge  signified  by  Mr.  Osbalston  5H. 


142  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

This  I  sent  to  Dr.  Price,  February  24,  by  Tho.  Bush. 

[An  Entry  in  the  Accounts  of  the  Treasurer  of  Westminster  Abbey; 
see  The  Antiquary,  xli,  70.] 

Joseph  Webbe,  1629. 

A  Letter  breefly  touching  the  large  extent  &  infinite  use,  of  yt  little 
booke  called  Entheatus  Materialis  primus,  lately  written  by  ye 
Author  of  yt  booke,  to  his  deare  &  lovinge  frend  Mr.  Benjamin 
Johnson.     And  his  answer e. 
Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  eldest  sonne  of  our  Brittaine  muses: 

J.  W.  wisheth  Bayes;    a  marble,    or  some    brasen    statua;    & 

perpetuall  memory. 

Deare  Brother 

Within  ye  circuite  of  my  best  acquaintance,  I  find  none  of 
Apollo's  Judges  to  grace  more  ye  seate  of  his  Justice  either 
with  gravity  of  person,  multiciplicitie  of  reading,  or  depht  of' 
understanding;  than  you  doe.  Nor  find  I  any,  from  w'm  I 
should  more  joyfull  receive  applause  for  good;  or  more  patiently 
tollerate,  rebuke  for  ill;  than  from  ye  doome  of  yours  discretion. 
Give  mee  therefore  leave  to  intreate  none  but  you  to  lift  the 
Bilance  betweene  my  last  booke,  &  some  ill  Savouring  breath  of 
Malice,  now  call'd  emulation;  &,  to  make  a  just  report  of  both 
theyre  valewes. 

[Webbe  then  goes  on  to  complain  of  the  envious  strictures 
that  have  been  passed  upon  him,  to  ask  Jonson  to  judge  between 
him  and  his  critics,  to  give  a  complex  mathematical  demonstra 
tion  ot  the  principle  of  his  book,  and  at  length  concludes :] 

Though  much  more  may  be  sayde  ir  ye  behalfe  of  this  little 
booke:  yet  let  this  suffice  for  ye  present.  And  let  report  &  it 
bee  judg'd  by  your  opinion.  Meane  while  I  rest. 

Your  devouted  frend 

and  brother 

Joseph.  Webbe. 
Glassenbury  house 

in  Smithfield,  Jan: 
20,  i628[-9]: 

[SI.  MS.  1466  ff.,  203  f.,  printed  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Modern  Philology, 
xi,  286.     Jonson's  answer  appears  to  be  lost.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  143 

James  Shirley,  1629. 

To  the  Right  Honourable  Francis,  Earl  oj  Rutland,  &c. 
My  most  honoured  Lord, 

When  the  age  declineth  from  her  primitive  virtue,  and  the 
silken  wits  of  the  time,  (that  I  may  borrow  from  our  acknowl 
edged  master,  learned  Jonsori)  disgracing  nature,  and  harmonious 
poesy,  are  transpoited  with  many  illiterate  and  prodigious  births, 
it  is  not  safe  to  appear  without  protection.  .  .  . 
[Dedication  of  The  Grateful  Servant,  1629.] 

William  Habington,  1629. 

.  .  .  Go  forward  still;  and  when  his  Muse  expires, 
Whose  English  stains  the  Greek  and  Latin  lyres, 
Divinest  Jonson,  live  to  make  us  see 
The  glory  of  the  stage  reviv'd  in  thee. 

[Gratulatory  poem  to  James  Shirley,  prefixed  to  The  Grateful  Servant, 
1629.] 

Thomas  Randolph,  about  1629. 

An  Answer  to  Master  Ben.  Jonson's  Ode,  to  persuade 

him  not  to  leave  the  Stage. 
Ben,  do  not  leave  the  stage, 
'Cause  'tis  a  loathsome  age; 
For  pride  and  impudence  will  grow  too  bold 
When  they  shall  hear  it  told 

They  frightened  thee.     Stand  high,  as  is  thy  cause; 
Their  hiss  is  thy  applause. 
More  just  were  thy  disdain, 
Had  they  approv'd  thy  vein. 
So  thou  for  them  and  they  for  thee  were  born, 
They  to  incense,  and  thou  as  much  to  scorn. 

Wilt  thou  engross  thy  store 

Of  wheat,  and  pour  no  more 

Because  their  bacon-brains  have  such  a  taste 

As  more  delight  in  mast? 

No;  set  'em  forth  a  board  of  dainties  full, 

As  thy  best  muse  can  cull ; 


144  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

While  they  the  while  do  pine 

And  thirst  'midst  all  their  wine. 

What  greater  plague  can  hell  itself  devise, 

Than  to  be  willing  thus  to  tantalise? 

Thou  canst  not  find  them  stuff 

That  will  be  bad  enough 

To  please  their  palates;  let  'em  thine  refuse 

For  some  Pie-Corner  muse. 

She  is  too  fair  a  hostess,  'twere  a  sin 

For  them  to  like  thine  Inn. 

Twas  made  to  entertain 

Guests  of  a  nobler  strain, 

Yet  if  they  will  have  any  of  thy  store, 

Give  'em  some  scraps,  and  send  them  from  thy  door. 

And  let  those  things  in  plush, 

Till  they  be  taught  to  blush, 

Like  what  they  will,  and  more  contented  be 

With  what  Broome  swept  from  thee. 

I  know  thy  worth,  and  that  thy  lofty  strains 

Write  not  to  clothes,  but  brains. 

But  thy  great  spleen  doth  rise, 

'Cause  moles  will  have  no  eyes; 

This  only  in  my  Ben  I  faulty  find ; 

He's  angry,  they'll  not  see  him  that  are  blind. 

Why  should  the  scene  be  mute, 

While  thou  canst  touch  a  lute, 

And  string  thy  Horace?  let  each  Muse  of  nine 

Claim  thee,  and  say  [that]  thou  art  mine. 

Twere  fond  to  let  all  other  flames  expire 

To  sit  by  Pindar's  fire: 

For  by  so  strange  neglect, 

I  should  myself  suspect 

The  palsy  were  as  well  thy  brains  disease, 

If  they  could  shake  thy  muse  which  way  they  please. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  145 

And  though  thou  well  canst  sing 

The  glories  of  thy  king, 

And  on  the  wings  of  verse  his  chariot  bear 

To  heaven,  and  fix  it  there; 

Yet  let  thy  muse  as  well  some  raptures  raise 

To  please  him  as  to  praise, 

I  would  not  have  thee  choose 

Only  a  treble  muse; 

But  have  this  envious,  ignorant  age  to  know: 

Thou,  that  canst  sing  so  high,  canst  reach  as  low. 

[Poetical  and  Dramatic  Works  of  Thomas  Randolph,  ed.  W.  Carew 
Hazlitt,  1875,  P-  581;  printed  from  the  Kingsborough-Haslewood 
MS.,  vol.  i,  fol.  115.] 

I.  C.,  about  1629. 

Ode  to  Ben  Jonson,  upon  his  Ode  to  Himself. 
Proceed  in  thy  brave  rage 
Which  hath  raised  up  our  stage 
Unto  that  height  as  Rome,  in  all  her  state, 

Or  Greece  might  emulate; 
Whose  greatest  senators  did  silent  sit, 

Hear  and  applaud  the  wit, 
Which  those  intemperate  times 
Used  when  it  taxed  their  crimes; 
Socrates  stood  and  heard  with  true  delight 
All  that  the  sharp  Athenian  Muse  did  write 

Against  his  supposed  fault; 

And  did  digest  the  salt 
That  from  that  full  vein  did.  so  freely  flow: 

And,  though  that  we  do  know 
The  Graces  jointly  strove  to  make  that  breast 
A  temple  for  their  rest, 

We  must  not  make  thee  less 

Than  Aristophanes. 

He  got  the  start  of  thee  in  time  and  place, 
But  thou  hast  gained  the  goal  in  art  and  grace. 


ii 


146  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

But  if  thou  make  thy  feasts 

For  the  high-relished  guests 
And  that  a  cloud  of  shadows  shall  break  in, 

It  were  almost  a  sin 

To  think  that  thou  shouldst  equally  delight 
Each  several  appetite; 

Though  Art  and  Nature  strive 

Thy  banquets  to  contrive. 
Thou  art  our  whole  Menander,  and  dost  look 
Like  the  old  Greek;  think  then  but  on  his  cook. 

If  thou  thy  full  cups  bring 

Out  of  the  Muses'  spring 
And  there  are  some  foul  mouths  had  rather  drink 

Out  of  the  common  sink, 

There  let  them  seek  to  quench  th'  hydropic  thirst 
Till  the  swoln  humour  burst. 

Let  him,  who  daily  steals 

From  thy  most  precious  meals, 
Since  thy  strange  plenty  finds  no  loss  by  it, 
Feed  himself  with  the  fragments  of  the  wit. 

And  let  those  silken  men, 

That  know  not  how  or  when 
To  spend  their  money  or  their  time,  maintain 

With  their  consumed  no-brain 
Their  barbarous  feeding  on  such  gross  base  stuff 
As  only  serves  to  puff 

Up  the  weak,  empty  mind, 

Like  bubbles  full  of  wind, 

And  strive  t'  engage  the  scene  with  their  damned  oaths, 
As  they  do  with  the  privilege  of  their  clothes. 

Whilst  thou  takest  that  high  spirit, 
Well  purchased  by  thy  merit : 
Great  Prince  of  Poets,  though  thy  head  be  gray, 

Crown  it  with  Delphic  bay, 
And  from  the  chief  (pin)  in  Apollo's  choir 
Take  down  thy  best  tuned  lyre, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  147 

Whose  sound  shall  pierce  so  far 

It  shall  strike  out  the  star 

Which  fabulous  Greece  durst  fix  in  heaven,  whilst  thine 
With  all  due  glory  here  on  earth  shall  shine. 

Sing,  English  Horace,  sing 

The  wonder  of  thy  King ; 
Whilst  his  triumphant  chariot  runs  his  whole 

Bright  course  about  each  pole. 
Sing  down  the  Roman  harper;  he  shall  rain 
His  bounties  on  thy  vein, 

And  with  his  golden  rays 

So  gild  thy  glorious  bays, 
That  Fame  shall  bear  on  her  unwearied  wing 
What  the  best  Poet  sung  of  the  best  King. 

[From  Q.  Horatius  Flaccus:  His  Art  of  Poetry.  Englished  by  Ben: 
Jonson,  1640.  Gifford  assigns  the  poem  to  John  Cleveland,  but 
J.  M.  Berdan,  in  his  edition  of  Cleveland's  poems,  1903,  p.  177, 
seriously  questions  the  attribution.] 

Thomas  Carew,  about  1629. 

To  Ben  Jonson. 

Upon  occasion  of  his  Ode  of  Defiance  annexed  to  his 
Play  of  'The  New  Inn.' 

'Tis  true,  dear  BEN,  thy  just  chastising  hand 

Hath  fix'd  upon  the  'sotted  Age  a  brand, 

To  their  swol'n  pride  and  empty  scribbling  due; 

It  can  nor  judge,  nor  write:  and  yet  'tis  true 

Thy  Comic  Muse,  from  the  exalted  line 

Touch 'd  by  thy  'Alchemist,1  doth  since  decline 

From  that  her  zenith,  and  foretells  a  red 

And  blushing  evening,  when  she  goes  to  bed ; 

Yet  such  as  shall  outshine  the  glimmering  light 

With  which  all  stars  shall  gild  the  following  night. 

Nor  think  it  much,  since  all  thy  Eaglets  may 

Endure  the  Sunny  trial,  if  we  say 

'This  hath  the  stronger  wing,'  or,  'that  doth  shine 

Trick'd  up  in  fairer  plumes';  since  all  are  thine. 


148  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Who  hath  this  flock  of  cackling  geese  compar'd 
With  thy  tuned  choir  of  swans?  or  who  hath  dared 
To  call  thy  births  deform'd?  but  if.thou  bind 
By  City-Custom  or  by  Gavel-kind 
In  equal  shares  thy  love  on  all  thy  race, 
We  may  distinguish  of  their  sex  and  place; 

Though  one  hand  shape  them,  and  though  one  brain  strike 

Souls  into  all,  they  are  not  all  alike. 

Why  should  the  follies,  then,  of  this  dull  Age 
Draw  from  thy  pen  such  an  immodest  rage, 
As  seems  to  blast  thy  else-immortal  Bays, 
When  thine  own  tongue  proclaims  thy  itch  of  praise? 
Such  thirst  will  argue  drought.     No,  let  be  hurl'd 
Upon  thy  works  by  the  detracting  world 
What  malice  can  suggest :  let  the  Rout  say 
4  The  running  sands  that — ere  thou  make  a  play — 
Count  the  slow  minutes,  might  a  Goodwin  frame, 
To  swallow  when  th'  hast  done  thy  shipwreck'd  name.' 
Let  them  the  dear  expense  of  oil  upbraid, 
Suck'd  by  thy  watchful  lamp,  'that  hath  betray'd 
To  theft  the  blood  of  martyr'd  authors,  spilt 
Into  thy  ink,  whilst  thou  growest  pale  with  guilt.' 

Repine  not  at  thy  thrifty  taper's  waste, 

That  sleeks  thy  terser  poems;  nor  is  haste 

Praise,  but  excuse;  and  if  thou  overcome 

A  knotty  writer,  bring  thy  booty  home, 

Nor  think  it  theft,  if  the  rich  spoils  so  torn 

From  conquer'd  authors  be  as  Trophies  worn. 

Let  others  glut  on  the  extorted  praise 

Of  vulgar  breath;  trust  thou  to  after  days: 

Thy  labour'd  'Works'  shall  live,  when  Time  devours 

Th'  abortive  offspring  of  thy  hasty  hours. 

Thou  art  not  of  their  rank,  the  quarrel  lies 

Within  thine  own  verge:  then  let  this  suffice— 
The  wiser  world  doth  greater  Thee  confess 
Than  all  men  else,  than  Thy  self  only  less. 
[Poems,  1640.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  149 

Anonymous,  about  1629. 

The  Cuntry's  Censure  on  Ben  Johnsons  New  Inn. 

Listen  (decaying  Ben)  and  Counsell  heare 

Wittes  have  their  date  and  strength  of  braines  may  weare 

Age,  steept  In  sacke,  hath  quencht,  thy  Enthean  fier 

Wee  pittye  now,  whom  once,  wee  did  Admire: 

Surrender  then  thy  right  to  th'  stage;  forbeare 

To  dare  to  wright,  what  others  Loath  to  heare 

and  Justlye,  since  thy  Crazye  Muse  doth  now 

To  quitte  her  Spartane  province ;  fayntly  knowe 

Swear  not  by  God  tis  good ;  for  yff  you  doe : 

The  world  will  taxe  your  zeale,  and  Judgment  too; 

for  In  a  Poett,  yf  that's  last  regarded 

New  Inn's  discretion,  hath  the  quite  discarded: 

From  Aganippes  pale,  and  pluct  the  Amonge 

Not  the  giddye  headed ;  but  the  unbrowed  Thronge. 

Rayle  not  att  the  Actors;  doe  not  them  Abuse, 

Action  to  dullness;  Cannott  Life  Infuse; 

For  Velvett,  Scarlett,  Plush,  doe  tell  you  true, 

'Twas  not  their  Cloathes;  but  they  did  blush  for  you; 

To  see;  and  was  not  that,  Just  cause  of  rage; 

Weakenes  and  Impudence  possest  the  stage, 

Iniurde  the  strength  of  witt;  now  cloyde  and  dry; 

Goodstucke,  Prue,  Frampole,  Stuffell,  Burst  typ:  fly;. 

And  their  Comrades,  whose  Language  but  to  heare; 

Might  stricke  A  surffett,  Into  A  gentle  eare, 

but  lett  me  tell  thee  this,  Ben ;  by  the  way, 

Thy  Argument's  as  tedious  as  thy  play; 

Thou  saist  noe  Palsye  doth  thy  Brayne  pan  vex, 

I  praye  the  tell  me  what ;  an  Apoplex : 

Thy  Pegasus  can  stirr,  yett  thy  best  Care, 

Makes  hur  but  shuffle;  lyke  the  parson  mare 

Who  from  his  owne  side  witt;  sayes  thus  by  mee, 

Hee  hath  bequeathed  his  bellye  unto  thee, 

To  holde  that  little  Learning,  whiche  is  fled ; 

Into  thy  Guttes;  from  out  thy  Emptye  head; 


150  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Yett  thou  art  Confident;  &  darst  still  sweare, 
The  fault's  not  In  thy  Brain,  but  In  their  eare; 
What  dismale  fate  is  this  thus  on  the  seaseth ; 
Thy  worth  doth  fayle;  thy  Arrogance  Increaseth; 
Pride  and  presumption,  hath  dethronde  thy  witt, 
And  set  upp  Philautie;  In  place  of  ytt; 
Thy  Innbred  Darling,  whose  stronge  selfe  Conceipt, 
Forstalling  prayse,  did  thy  Just  prayse  defeate, 
Worth  being  selfe  praisd,  doth  fall,  hee  is  the  best  Poett; 
Can  Justly  merritt  Prayse;  &  yett  scarce  knowe  ytt; 
But  tis  New  Inn's  disaster;  not  to  knowe 
What  or  thy  selfe,  or  others  Can  Allow 
Wee  wronge  the  nott,  for  take  thy  enraged  Appeale 
Twill  rather  foster  thy  Mad  wound  then  heale 
For  knowe;  what  Justly  doth  dispise, 
Doth  prove,  A  greater  scandell  to  our  eyes: 
And  sure  that  sensure  must  Impartiall  bee 
Whear  readers,  and  spectators  both  agree; 
Yett,  yff  pure  need  Inforce  thee,  to  this  shame, 
Wee  proner  are  to  Advise  thee,  then  to  blame, 
Since  wittes  doe  fayle,  thou  wert  best  pore  Crackt  braine  else; 
To  turne  myne  host;  and  keepe  new  Inn  thy  selfe; 
But  Change  thy  signe,  yff  thou'lt,  bee  ruld  by  me 
Noe  more  Light  hart,  but  light  Brayne;  lett  yt  bee. 
[MS.  Ashmole  38,  fol.  79,  8o.l 

Owen  Feltham,  about  1629. 

An  answer  to  the  Ode,  Come  leave  the  loathed  Stage,  &c. 
Come  leave  this  sawcy  way 
Of  baiting  those  that  pay 
Dear  for  the  sight  of  your  declining  Wit; 

'Tis  known  it  is  not  fit, 
That  a  Sale  Poet,  just  contempt  once  thrown, 

Should  cry  up  thus  his  own. 
I  wonder  by  what  Dower, 
Or  Patent,  you  had  power 
From  all  to  rape  a  judgment.     Let't  suffice, 
Had  you  been  modest,  y'ad  been  granted  wise. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  151 

'Tis  known  you  can  do  well, 

And  that  you  do  excell, 
As  a  Translator:  But  when  things  require 

A  Genius,  and  Fire, 

Not  kindled  heretofore  by  others  pains; 
As  oft  y'ave  wanted  Brains 

And  Art  to  strike  the  White, 

As  you  have  levell'd  right: 
Yet  if  Men  vouch  not  things  Apochryphal, 
You  bellow,  rave,  and  spatter  round  your  Gall. 

Jug,  Pierce,  Peek,  Fly,  and  all 

Your  Jests  so  nominal, 
Are  things  so  far  beneath  an  able  Brain, 

As  they  do  throw  a  Stain 
Thro'  all  th'  unlikely  Plot,  and  do  displease 
As  deep  as  Pericles. 

While  yet  there  is  not  laid 

Before  a  Chamber-maid 

Discourse  so  weigh'd-as  might  have  serv'd  of  old 
For  Schools,  when  they  of  Love  and  Valour  told. 

Why  Rage  then?  when  the  Show 

Should  Judgment  be  and  Know- 
Ledge,  there  are  in  Plush  who  scorn  to  drudge 

For  Stages,  yet  can  judge 
Not  only  Poets  looser  Lines,  but  Wits, 
And  all  their  Perquisits. 

A  Gift  as  rich,  as  high 

Is  Noble  Poesie: 

Yet  tho'  in  sport  it  be  for  Kings  a  Play, 
Tis  next  Mechanicks,  when  it  works  for  pay. 

Alcaus  Lute  had  none, 
Nor  loose  Anacreon, 
Ere  taught  so  bold  assuming  of  the  Bays, 

When  they  deserv'd  no  praise. 
To  rail  Men  into  Approbation, 
Is  new  to  yours  alone; 


152  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  prosper  not:  For  know, 

Fame  is  as  coy,  as  you 
Can  be  disdainful ;  and  who  dares  to  prove 
A  rape  on  her,  shall  gather  scorn,  not  Love. 

Leave  then  this  humour  vain, 
•  And  this  more  humorous  Strain, 
Where  Self-conceit,  and  Choler  of  the  Blood 

Eclipse  what  else  is  good : 
Then  if  you  please  those  Raptures  high  to  touch, 

Whereof  you  boast  so  much ; 
And  but  forbear  your  Crown, 
Till  the  World  puts  it  on : 
No  doubt  from  all  you  may  amazement  draw, 
Since  braver  Theme  no  Phcebus  ever  saw. 

[Lusoria;  or  Occasional  Pieces,  first  printed  as  an  addition  to  the  eighth 
edition  of  Feltham's  Resolves,  1661,  folio.] 

Richard  Brome,  after  1629. 

The  Prologue. 

Quot  quot  adestis  Salvete  salvetote. 
The  Schoolemaster  that  never  yet  besought  yee, 
Is  now  become  a  suitor,  that  you'll  sit, 
And  exercise  your  Judgement  with  your  wit, 
On  this  our  Comedy,  which  in  bold  Phrase, 
The  Author  sayes  has  past  with  good  applause 
In  former  times.     For  it  was  written,  when 
It  bore  just  Judgement,  and  the  seal  of  Ben. 
Some  in  this  round  may  have  both  seen  't,  and  heard, 
Ere  I,  that  beare  its  title,  wore  a  Beard.  .  .  . 
[Prologue  to  Richard  Brome's  The  City  Wit,  acted  1629,  printed  1653.] 

James  Howell,  1629. 

To  my  Father,  Mr.  Ben.  Johnson. 

Father  Ben.  Nullum  Jit  magnum  ingenium  sine  mixtura  de 
mentia,  there's  no  great  Wit  without  some  mixture  of  madness; 
so  saith  the  Philosopher:  Now  was  he  a  fool  who  answer'd, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  153 

nee  parvum  sine  mixtura  stultitice,  nor  small  wit  without  some 
allay  of  foolishness.  Touching  the  first,  it  is  verify'd  in  you, 
for  I  find  that  you  have  been  oftentimes  mad;  you  were  mad 
when  you  writ  your  Fox,  and  madder  when  you  writ  your  Al- 
chymist;  you  were  mad  when  you  writ  Catilin,  and  stark  mad 
when  you  writ  Sejanus;  but  when  you  writ  your  Epigrams,  and 
the  Magnetick  Lady,  you  were  not  so  mad:  Insomuch  that  I 
perceive  there  be  degrees  of  madness  in  you.  Excuse  me  that 
I  am  so  free  with  you.  The  madness  I  mean  is  that  divine  Fury, 
that  heating  and  heightning  Spirit  which  Ovid  speaks  of. 

Est  Deus.  in  nobis,  agitante  calescimus  illo:  That  true  Enthu 
siasm  which  transports,  and  elevates  the  souls  of  Poets  above 
the  middle  Region  of  vulgar  conceptions,  and  makes  them  soar 
up  to  Heaven  to  touch  the  Stars  with  their  laurell'd  heads,  to 
walk  in  the  Zodiac  with  Apollo  himself,  and  command  Mercury 
upon  their  errand. 

I  cannot  yet  light  upon  Dr.  Dames  Welsh  Grammar,  before 
Christmas  I  am  promis'd  one:  So,  desiring  you  to  look  better 
hereafter  to  your  Charcoal-fire  and  Chimney,  which  I  am  glad 
to  be  one  that  preserv'd  it  from  burning,  this  being  the  second 
time  that  Vulcan  hath  threaten 'd  you,  it  may  be  because  you 
have  spoken  ill  of  his  Wife,  and  been  too  busy  with  his  Horns; 
I  rest — Your  Son,  and  contiguous  Neighbour,  J.  H. 

Westm.,  27  June  1629. 

[Epistola  Ho-TLliana:  Familiar  Letters  Domestic  and  Foreign,  ed.  J. 
Jacobs,  1892,  p.  267.  Though  probably  not  genuine  letters,  it 
has  seemed  best  to  insert  these  under  the  dates  assigned  to  them.] 

James  Howell,  1630. 

To  Mr.  Ben.  Johnson. 

Father  Ben,  you  desir'd  me  lately  to  procure  you  Dr.  Dairies' s 
Welsh  Grammar,  to  add  to  those  many  you  have;  I  have  lighted 
upon  one  at  last,  and  I  am  glad  I  have  it  in  so  seasonable  a 
time  that  it  may  serve  for  a  New-year's-gift,  in  which  quality 
I  send  it  you.  .  .  . 

—Your  Son  and  Servitor,  J.  H. 

Cal.  Apr.  1629. 

[Epistola  Ho-Eliana,  ed.  J.  Jacobs,  1892,  p.  276.     Cf.  the  preceding 
entry.] 


154  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Royal  Grant,  1630. 
Charles,  R. 

CHARLES,  by  the  grace  of  God,  Kinge  of  England,  Scotland, 
Fraunce,  and  Ireland,  defender  of  the  faith,  &c.  to  the  Theasurer, 
Chancellour,  under  Theasurer,  Chamberlens,  and  Barons  of  the 
Exchequer  of  us,  our  heirs  and  successours,  now  beinge,  and  that 
hereafter  shall  be ;  and  to  all  others  to  whom  these  presents 
shall  come,  or  to  whom  it  shall  or  may  apperteyn,  greeting. 
Whereas  our  late  most  deare  father  King  James  of  happy 
memorie,  by  his  letters  patten ts  under  the  great  scale  of  England, 
bearing  date  at  Westminster,  the  first  day  of  February,  in  the 
thirteenth  year  of  his  reign  of  England  (for  the  considerations 
therein  expressed)  did  give  and  graunt  unto  our  well  beloved 
servaunt,  Benjamin  Johnson,  one  annuitie  or  yearly  pension  of 
one  hundred  marks  of  lawful  money  of  Englande,  during  his  life, 
to  be  paid  out  of  the  said  Exchequer,  at  the  feast  of  the  Anuncia- 
tion  of  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary,  the  Nativity  of  St.  John  Baptist, 
St.  Michael  the  Archangel,  and  the  birth  of  our  Lord  God, 
quarterly,  as  by  the  said  letters  patents  more  at  large  may  appear. 
Which  annuity  or  pension,  together  with  the  said  letters  patents, 
the  said  Benjamin  Johnson  hath  lately  surrendered  unto  us. 
Know  yee  nowe,  that  wee,  for  divers  good  considerations  us  at 
this  present  especially  movinge,  and  in  consideration  of  the  good 
and  acceptable  service,  done  unto  us  and  our  said  father  by  the 
said  Benjamin  Johnson,  and  especially  to  encourage  him  to 
proceede  in  those  services  of  his  witt  and  penn,  which  wee  have 
enjoined  unto  him,. and  which  we  expect  from  him,  are  graciously 
pleased  to  augment  and  encrease  the  said  annuitie  or  pension  of 
one  hundred  marks,  unto  an  annuitie  of  one  hundred  pounds  of 
lawful  money  of  England  for  his  life.  And  for  the  better  effecting 
thereof  of  our  especial  grace,  certen  knowledge  and  meer  motion, 
we  have  given  and  graunted,  and  by  these  presents  for  us,  our 
heirs  and  successors,  upon  the  surrender  aforesaid,  do  give  and 
graunt  unto  the  said  Benjamin  Johnson,  one  annuitie  or  yearly 
pension  of  one  hundred  pounds  of  England  by  the  year,  to  have, 
hold,  and  yearly  to  receive  the  said  annuitie  or  yearly  pension 
of  one  hundred  pounds  of  lawful  money  of  England  by  the  year, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  155 

unto  the  said  Benjamin  Johnson  or  his  assignes,  from  the  feast 
of  our  Lord  God  last  past,  before  the  date  hereof,  for  and  during 
the  natural  life  of  him  the  said  Benjamin  Johnson.  .  .  .  And 
further  know  yee,  that  wee  of  our  more  especial  grace,  certen 
knowledge  and  meer  motion,  have  given  and  granted,  and  by 
these  presents  for  us,  our  heires  and  successors,  do  give  and 
graunt  unto  the  said  Benjamin  Johnson  and  his  assigns,  one  terse 
of  Canary  Spanish  wine  yearly:  to  have,  hold,  perceive,  receive, 
and  take  the  said  terse  of  Canary  Spanish  wine  unto  the  said 
Benjamin  Johnson  and  his  assigns  during  the  term  of  his  natural 
life  out  of  our  store  of  wines  yearly,  and  from  time  to  time 
remayninge  at  or  in  our  cellers  within  or  belonging  to  our  palace 
of  Whitehall.  And  for  the  better  effecting  of  our  will  and  pleasure 
herein,  we  do  hereby  require  and  .command  all  and  singular 
officers  and  ministers  whom  it  shall  or  may  concerne,  or  who 
shall  have  the  care  or  charge  of  our  said  wines,  that  they  or  some 
one  of  them  do  deliver  or  cause  to  be  delivered  the  said  terse  of 
wine  yearly,  and  once  in  every  year  unto  the  said  Benjamin 
Johnson  or  his  assignes,  during  the  terme  of  his  natural  life,  at 
such  time  and  times  as  he  or  they  shall  demand  or  desire  the 
same.  And  these  presents  or  the  inrollment  thereof  shall  be 
unto  all  men  whom  it  shall  concerne  a  sufficient  warrant  and 
discharge  in  that  behalf,  although  express  mention,  &c.  In 
witness,  &c. 

Ex  per  Ro.  Heath. 
Witness,  &c. 

Maie  it  please  your  most  excellent  Majestic, 

This  conteyneth  your  majestie's  graunte  unto  Benjamin  John 
son,  your  majestie's  servaunte,  during  his  life,  of  a  pension  of 
100  £  per  annum,  and  of  a  terse  of  Spanish  wine  yearly  out  of 
your  majestie's  store  remaining  at  White-hall. 

And  is  done  upon  surrender  of  a  former  letters  patents  granted 
unto  him  by  your  late  royal  father,  of  a  pension  of  100  marks 
per  annum. 

Signified  to  be  your  Majestie's  pleasure  by  the  Lord  Theasurer. 

Ro.  Heath. 


156  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

[Endorsed  thus:] 

March  1630. 

Expl.  apud  Westm'  vicesimo  sexto  die  Martii  anno  R  Ris  Caroli 

quinto, 

per  Windebank. 

[Reprinted  from  The  Works  of  Ben  Jonson,  ed.  P.  Whalley,  1756,  i, 
Iviii-lxi.] 

Exchequer  Accounts,  1630. 

Exchequer  account  of  receipts  and  issues  from  this  day  to  the 
i6th  inst.     Among  the  payments  occurs,  "Ben  Jonson,  25  £." 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  Charles  I,  vol.  clxx,  no.  43,  July  9, 
1630.] 

Anonymous,  about  1630? 
Big  Benjamin  hath  had  a  cup  of  sacke 
So  often  at  his  mouth  that  now  his  backe 
Is  almost  brooke;  whereas  if  hee  his  cup 
In  his  sack's  mouth  had  closely  tyed  up: 
Hee  might  have  had  a  blessing  and  have  bin 
As  fortunate  as  little  Beniamin — 

Though  hee  bee  broake,  and  broake,  and  broke  in  twaine 
The  Parliament  hath  peiced  him  againe. 

[Harl.  MS.  4955,  fol.  84,  reproduced   in   Peter  Cunningham's  Extracts 
from  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  1842,  p.  xlix.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1630. 

John  Spencer 

3°  Julij  1630. 

Assigned  ouer  unto  him  by  Mistris  Bur[re]  by  a  note 
under  her  hand  and  consent  of  master  Purfoot  warden, 
the  copies  followinge iiij8 

Narcissus  the  fountaine  of  [self]  love.     [Jonson] 

A  mad  world  my  masters. 

The  Alchemist  [Jonson] 

The  preachers  travelles  [Cartwright] 

Silent  Woman  [Jonson] 

Od[e]  combes  Complaint  [T.  Coryat] 

Ignoramus  [G.  Ruggle] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  157 

An  Introduction  to  a  devout  life. 
Conclave  Ignatij  [J.  Donne] 
[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  238.] 

Thomas  Carew,  1630. 

Now  noise  prevails,  and  he  is  tax'd  for  drouth 

Of  wit,  that,  with  the  cry,  spends  not  his  mouth  .  .  . 

These  are  the  men  in  crowded  heaps  that  throng 

To  that  adulterate  stage,  where  not  a  tongue 

Of  th'untun'd  Kennel  can  a  line  repeat 

Of  serious  sense:  but,  like  lips  meet  like  meat; 

Whilst  the  true  brood  of  Actors,  that  alone 

Keep  natural  unstrain'd  action  in  her  throne, 

Behold  their  benches  bare,  though  they  rehearse 

The  terser  Beaumont's  or  great  Johnson's  verse. 

Repine  not  thou  then,  since  this  churlish  fate 

Rules  not  the  stage  alone;  perhaps  the  State 

Hath  felt  this  rancour,  where  men  great  and  good 

Have  by  the  rabble  been  misunderstood. 

So  was  thy  Play,  whose  clear,  yet  lofty  strain, 

Wisemen,  that  govern  Fate,  shall  entertain. 

[To  my  -worthy  Friend,  M.  D'avenant,  upon  his  excellent  Play,  The  Just 
Italian,  prefixed  to  The  Just  Italian,  1630.] 

Thomas  Randolph,  1630. 

A  gratulatory  to  Master  Ben.  Johnson,  for  his  adopting 

him  to  be  his  son. 

I  was  not  born  to  Helicon,  nor  dare 
Presume  to  think  myself  a  Muse's  heir. 
I  have  no  title  to  Parnassus  Hill 
Nor  any  acre  of  it  by  the  will 
Of  a  dead  ancestor,  nor  could  I  be 
Ought  but  a  tenant  unto  poetry. 
But  thy  adoption  quits  me  of  all  fear, 
And  makes  me  challenge  a  child's  portion  there. 
I  am  akin  to  heroes,  being  thine, 
And  part  of  my  alliance  is  divine, 


158  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Orpheus,  Musaeus,  Homer  too,  beside 
Thy  brothers  by  the  Roman  mother's  side ; 
As  Ovid,  Virgil,  and  the  Latin  lyre 
That  is  so  like  thee,  Horace;  the  whole  quire 
Of  poets  are,  by  thy  adoption,  all 
My  uncles ;  thou  hast  given  me  power  to  call 
Phoebus  himself  my  grandsire;  by  this  grant 
Each  sister  of  the  Nine  is  made  my  aunt. 
Go,  you  that  reckon  from  a  large  descent 
Your  lineal  honours,  and  are  well  content 
To  glory  in  the  age  of  your  great  name, 
•    Though  on  a  herald's  faith  you  build  the  same: 
Though  you  may  bear  a  gorgon  on  your  crest 
By  direct  line  from  Perseus ;  I  will  boast 
No  further  than  my  father;  that's  the  most 
I  can,  or  should  be  proud  of;   and  I  were 
Unworthy  his  adoption,  if  that  here 
I  should  be  dully  modest;  boast  I  must, 
Being  son  of  his  adoption,  not  his  lust. 
And,  to  say  truth,  that  which  is  best  in  me 
May  call  you  father;  'twas  begot  by  thee. 
Have  I  a  spark  of  that  celestial  flame 
Within  me?     I  confess  I  stole  the  same, 
Prometheus-like,  from  thee;  and  may  I  feed 
His  vulture,  when  I  dare  deny  the  deed. 
Many  more  moons  thou  hast,  that  shine  by  night, 
All  bankrupts,  were't  not  for  a  borrow'd  light, 
Yet  can  forswear  it;  I  the  debt  confess, 
And  think  my  reputation  ne'er  the  less. 
For,  father,  let  me  be  resolv'd  by  you : 
Is't  a  disparagement  from  rich  Peru 
To  ravish  gold;  or  theft,  for  wealthy  ore 
To  ransack  Tagus'  or  Pactolus'  shore? 
Or  does  he  wrong  Alcinous,  that  for  want 
Doth  take  from  him  a  sprig  or  two,  to  plant 
A  lesser  orchard?     Sure,  it  cannot  be: 
Nor  is  it  theft  to  steal  some  flames  from  thee. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  159 

Grant  this,  and  I'll  cry  guilty,  as  I  am, 
And  pay  a  filial  reverence  to  thy  name, 
For  when  my  muse  upon  obedient  knees 
Asks  not  a  father's  blessing,  let  her  lese 
The  fame  of  this  adoption ;  'tis  a  curse 
I  wish  her,  'cause  I  cannot  think  a  worse. 
And  here,  as  piety  bids  me,  I  entreat 
Phoebus  to  lend  thee  some  of  his  own  heat, 
To  cure  thy  palsy;  else  I  will  complain 
He  has  no  skill  in  herbs;  poets  in  vain 
Make  him  the  god  of  Physic,  'twere  his  praise 
To  make  thee  as  immortal  as  thy  bays — 
As  his  own  Daphne,  'twere  a  shame  to  see 
The  god  not  love  his  priest  more  than  his  tree. 
But  if  heaven  take  thee,  envying  us  thy  lyre, 
'Tis  to  pen  anthems  for  an  angel's  quire. 

[Poetical  and  Dramatic  Works,  ed.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  1875,  p.  537;  printed 
from  the  Kingsborough-Haslewood  MS.,  vol.  i,  fol.  128.] 

Sir  George  Gresley,  1631. 

Letter  to  .  .  .  .,  Essex  House,  February  2,  1631. 
The  Queen  and  her  ladies  do  practise  the  masque  [Jonson's 
Chlorida],  which  they  intend  to  perform  at  Shrovetide,  twice 
a- week. 

[Thomas  Birch,  The  Court  and  Times  of  Charles  the  First,  1848,  ii,  95; 
the  letter  is  inadvertently  dated  1632.] 

Sir  Thomas  Colepepper,  1631. 

Letter  to  Sir  Francis  Nether  sole,  at  The  Hague,  February  75,  1631. 
Everybody  is  busy  about  the  performance  of  the  Queen's 
mask  [Chlorida]  on  Shrovetide  next.     All  the  Court  ladies  are 
daily  practitioners. 

[Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  Charles  I,  clxxxv,  no.  5.     See  also  • 
no.  23.] 

The  Lord  Chamberlain's  Warrant-Book,  1631. 
Warrant  to  Edmund  Taverner  Esq.  for  £  600  to  be  employed 
towards  the  Queen's  Masque  [Chloridia]  at  Shrove- tide  next. 
Feb.  14th  1630-1. 


160  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Warrant  for  £  200  extra  to  be  paid  Taverner  for  the  same 
Masque.  Feb.  19.  1630. 

[Extracts  from  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Warrant-Book,  v,  93,  pp.  228, 
231;  reproduced  in  Jahrbuch  der  Deutschen  Shakespeare-Gesell- 
schaft,  xlvi,  95.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1631. 

Received  of  Mr.  Taylor  and  Lowins,  in  the  name  of  their 
company,  for  the  benefitt  of  my  winter  day,  upon  the  second  day 
of  Ben  Jonson's  play  of  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  this  18  day 
of  February,  1630 — I2/.  45.  od. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  44.] 

Title-pages,  1631. 

Loues  Triumph  through  Callipolis.  Performed  in  a  Masque 
at  Court  1630.  By  his  Maiestie  with  the  Lords,  and  Gentlemen 
assisting.  The  Inuentors.  Ben.  lonson.  Jnigo  Tones.  .  .  . 
I.N.  for  Thomas  Walkley.  1630. 

Chloridia.  Rites  to  Chloris  and  her  Nymphs.  Personated  in 
a  Masque,  at  Court.  By  the  Queenes  Maiesty  And  her  ladies. 
At  Shroue-tide.  1630.  ...  for  Thomas  Walkley. 

[These  two  masques  were  presented  at  Court  on  January  9,  1631  and 
February  22,  1631  respectively.  The  second  bears  no  date  of 
printing,  but  both  were  published  by  Thomas  Walkley,  and  both, 
probably,  appeared  before  March  23,  1630-31.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1631. 

Thomas  Alchorne 

I7mo  die  Aprilis  1631. 

Entred  for  his  Copye  under  the  handes  of  Sir  Henry 
Herbert  and  Master  Kingston  warden  a  Comedy  Called 

New  Inne  written  by  Ben :  Johnson vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  251.] 

Title-page,  1631. 

The  New  Inne.  Or,  The  light  Heart.  A  Comoedy.  As  it 
was  never  acted,  but  most  negligently  play'd,  by  some,  the  King's 
Servants.  And  more  squeamishly  beheld,  and  censured  by 
others,  the  Kings  Subiects.  1629.  Now,  at  last,  set  at  liberty 


TO  BEN  JONSON  l6l 

to  the  Readers,  his  Maties  Servants,  and  Subiects,  to  be  iudg'd. 
1631.  By  the  Author,  B.  lonson.  .  .  .  London,  printed  by 
Thomas  Harper,  for  Thomas  Alchorne,  .  .  .  MDCXXXI. 

R.  Goodwin,  1631. 

Vindiciae  Jonsonianae. 
Since,  what  past  Ages  onlie  had  begun, 
and  ventur'd  at,  Thou  hast  exactlie  done; 
And  that  the  Ancients,  more  precede  not  thee 
in  Time,  then  thou  dost  them,  in  Poesie: 
Staine  not  that  Well-gaind  Honour,  with  the  Crude, 
or  the  rash  Censure,  of  a  Multitude 
Of  Silken  fooles ;  who  cannot  Understand 
(for  they  were  borne  not  to  have  wit,  but  Land) 
Thy  sublim'd  Soule:  but  daily  doe  preferre 
those,  who  almost  as  diligentlie  erre, 
as  thou  dost  write ;  more  Comick  rules  mistake, 
then  thou  observ'dst  of  old,  or  new  dost  make; 
Revenge  those  wrongs  with  pittie;  for  wee  see, 
'tis  Ignorance  in  them,  noe  Crime  in  thee, 
that  moulds  their  Judgments,  who  ere  chanc't  to  see, 
that  vast  prodigious  Louvre-Gallerie, 
but  at  his  Entrance  (judging  by  his  Eyes) 
Would  thinke  the  roof  inclin'de,  the  floore  did  rise! 
And,  at  the  end,  each  Equidistant  Side, 
mett  in  one  Point!  though,  there,  they  bee  as  wide 
as  where  he  stood ;  soe  they  who  now  adaies 
Come  to  behold,  not  understand  thy  Plaies; 
With  weake-ey'd  Judgment,  easelie  may  depresse 
thy  loftie  Muse,  extoll  the  Lowlines, 
of  trampled  Poets;  with  Sinister  Witt, 
Contract  thy  Dexterous  vaine  to  answear  it, 
and  be  deceav'd  like  him,  or  as  those  Eyes, 
which,  through  grosse  Vapours,  and  thick  ayre  that  flies 
Close  to  the  earth,  the  riseing  Sun  can  view, 
and  with  deluded  Sence  doe  judge  it  true, 
that,  then,  hee's  twice  as  Great,  as  when  hee  hath  ran, 
and  is  inthron'd,  in  their  Meridian. 
12 


162  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Though  at  that  time,  he  was  more  distant  farre, 

then  the  Whole  Earth's  Semidiameter; 

Even  so  these  Gallants,  when  they  chance  to  heare 

A  new  Witt  peeping  in  their  Hemisphere, 

Which  they  can  apprehend,  their  clouded  Braines, 

Will  straight  admire,  and  Magnifie  his  Straines, 

farre  above  thine;  though  all  that  he  hath  done, 

is  but  a  Taper,  to  thy  brighter  Sun ; 

Wound  them  with  scorne!     Who  greives  at  such  Fooles  tongues, 

doth  not  revenge,  but  gratifie  their  Wrongs. 

Who's  doom'd  to  erre,  Unto  himself  must  bee 

An  Heretique,  if  he  judge  right  of  Thee: 

Icterick-eyes,  all  different  colours  thinke 

the  same;  What  feaverish  Palates  drinke, 

tast's  ill;  though  nere  so  good;  wee  find  by  Sence, 

ev'en  Contraries  may  have  Coincidence. 

for,  to  a  Smileing  Statue,  let  a  hand 

adde  some  few  Teares,  though  all  the  lines  els  stand, 

and  Liniaments  untouch't,  it  will  appeare, 

like  Sorrowes  figure,  and  the  lively  chere 

Drown 'd  into  Sadnes:  soe  when  these  bold  Men, 

blindlie  misled,  shall  temerate  thy  Pen, 

Adding  their  Censures;  thou  maist  seeme  to  bee, 

as  different  from  Thy  selfe,  as  they  from  Thee. 

Wer't  not  the  Sence  I  had  of  sacred  writt, 

I  should  have  call'd  it  Blasphemy  'gainst  witt, 

And  Sacriledge  'gainst  Art;  but  when  I  see 

They  little  knowe  themselves,  &  farr  lesse  Thee, 

Their  dislike  is  thine  Honour;  Hee  that's  mov'd, 

With  such  mens  censures;  graunteth  it  half  prov'd 

that  he  is  guiltie;  Innocence  no  Lawes, 

Vertue  feares  no  Detraction ;  'tis  no  cause, 

Yet  Argument  of  worth,  in  that  'tis  true, 

Your  Witt  cannot  suite  them,  nor  their  Braines  you. 

Could  such  poore  Intellectualls  as  theirs, 

But  reach  thy  pitch,  the  Mind,  that  now  admires, 

Would  then  contemne  Thee;  Hee's  esteem'd  by  none, 

that  can  be  understood  by  every  one; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  163 

Fear'st  then,  thy  Fame  that  warr's  'gainst  Tyme;  Thy  Pen, 

that  triumph's,  can  be  foil'd  by  Out-side  Men? 

Such  Aroma tique  Trees?  is  't  such  a  Grace 

t'have  pretious  Barkes,  when  as  the  Timber's  base? 

Had  they  been  halfe  soe  vers'd  in  witt;  soe  bred 

in  Learned  Authors,  as  they're  deepelie  read 

in  subtill  Shop-Bookes,  I  confesse  their  Doome, 

that  give's  thee  a  laurell  now,  had  giv'n  thee  a  Tombe. 

But  scorne  to  stand,  feare  not  to  fall,  by  Votes 

of  such  imbroydered — glittering — Silver  Coates! 

The  Capitol  was  sav'd,  I  doe  confesse 

by  watchfull  Geese;  but  when  Roomes  thankfulnes; 

a  silver  goose  erected,  which  there  stood, 

did  that  discover  foes,  or  doe  Roome  good? 

Nor  can  these  Gilt-men,  Thee.     Thy  dareing  Pen, 

that  may  contend  with  Fate,  can  that  feare  men? 

When  Roome,  that  quel'd  the  world,  to  thee  had  beene 

a  debtor  for  her  Safetie  (had  she  scene, 

or  beene  so  blest,  as  to  have  heard  one  Lyne, 

Which  thy  Pen  wrote  of  bloody  Cataline) 

More,  then  to  that  Vaine  Consults  glorieing  Style, 

Whose  every  period  seemes  a  German  myle; 

Whose  fluent  tongue,  more  lively,  at  that  time, 

exprest  his  owne  vaine-glorie,  then  their  Crime; 

for  words  and  Actions,  might  be  easely  knowne, 

the  thought's  were  only  Cataline's,  and  thine  owne. 

And  thou  didst  write,  what  he  durst  think,  or  dare: 

Could  wee  now  Question  Cataline,  and  compare 

Him  with  thy  writeings,  wee  should  sweare,  almost, 

Thy  Muse  had  beene  Confessor  to  his  Ghost; 

And  his  soules  Characters  in  his  Front  had  read, 

Which  threatned  death,  when  he  himself  was  dead. 

Had  shee  read  thy  Sejanus  life,  and  fate; 

World's  second  Head!  that  Tympany  of  State! 

She  had  a  wonder  scene,  farre  greater,  then, 

then  was  himselfe!  him,  equall'd  by  thy  Pen! 

Nay  more  a  miracle;  for  on  thy  Stage, 

Caesar's  out  done  in  Crafte,  Rome  in  her  rage. 


1 64  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  other  workes,  rais'd  by  thy  skillfull  hand, 

pittying  the  Worlds  old  wonders,  they  shall  stand 

As  Monuments  of  thee,  more  firme,  amids 

all  envies  blasts,  then  JEgypts  Pyramids 

Those  burthens  of  the  Earth,  'gainst  laboring  storrnes; 

Thus,  then  secur'd  above  the  reach  of  Harmes, 

Low  Soules  can  meditate;  use  not  that  pen, 

that  could  affright  the  world,  'gainst  such  poore  Men. 

Hee  is  more  foole,  then  Tyrant,  that  would  kill, 

His  Enemie  at  once:   too  great  an  111 

It  is  to  them,  they  cannot  hurt  thee:  bee 

then  wise  to  them  as  they  are  fooles  to  Thee. 

For  if  those  men  that  built  th'  Ephesian  Pile, 

did  feed  the  toil'd  out  Asses  all  the  while, 

on  publique  charge,  whose  younger  strength  did  bring, 

Materialls  to  that  Structure  (as  a  thinge 

As  great  in  Charity,  for  them  to  yield 

food  to  those  beasts,  as  Piety  to  builde 

Their  Goddesse  such  a  Temple)  shal't  be  thought 

that  the  ridiculous  Asses,  which  once  brought, 

Thee  such  Materials,  as  have  made  thy  Stage, 

to  be  the  Greatest  wonder  of  our  Age, 

Should  not  at  last  (tyr'd-out  in  Follies)  gett, 

Licence  to  banquet,  their  Decrepit  Witt, 

on  Off  all  Poets?  on  the  Comon  Store, 

and  Scraps  of  witt?     Nay  greive  there  are  no  more, 

to  please  their  Tasts.  for  when  Fooles  plentie  bee, 

Wise  men  are  Miracles.     When  Rome  did  see, 

at  Caesar's  Triumph,  all  the  figures  there, 

of  rich  Materials,  Gold  and  Silver  were: 

And  in  the  Triumph,  next  to  his,  not  one, 

but  carv'd  in  wood,  in  Ivory,  or  Stone; 

They  did  conceive,  the  last  which  they  had  seen, 

serv'd  as  a  case  to  keepe  great  Caesars  in : 

Soe  after  thy  rare  peeces,  when  wee  heare 

such  blockish  Poems,  doe  they  not  appeare 

like  dark-foiles,  closely  sett?  which  cannot  shine, 

Yet  give  what  in  themselves  they  want,  to  thine, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  165 

Lustre  and  life;  as  they  were  only  showne, 

to  lock  thy  Memory  up  in,  not  their  owne; 

and  that  soe  safelie  too ;  that  Fate  from  Thee 

Cannot  take  life;  it  may  Mortalitie; 

Other  Oblivion,  then,  thou  ne're  shalt  find, 

then  that,  which,  with  Thee  must  put  out  Mankind. 

.    [Harl.  MS.  4955;   reproduced  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Anglia,  xxxvii,  479.] 

John  Selden,  1631. 

But  of  the  Crown  of  Laurell  given  to  Poets,  hitherto.     And 
thus  haue  I,  by  no  unseasonable  digression,  performed  a  promise 
to  you  my  beloved  Ben.  Jonson.     Your  curious  learni-ng  and 
judgement  may  correct  where  I  have  erred,  and  adde  where  my 
notes  and  memory  have  left  me  short.     You  are 
— omnia  Carmina  doctus 
Et  calles  Mythun  plasmata  &  Historiam. 

And  so  you  both  fully  know  what  concernes  it,  and  your  singular 
Excellencie  in  the  Art  most  eminently  deserves  it. 

[Titles  of  Honor,  second,  and  revised,  edition,  1631.     The  above  passage 
does  not  appear  in  the  first  edition  of  1614.] 

Edmund  Howes,  1631. 

Our  moderne,  and  present  excellent  Poets  which  worthily 
flourish  in  their  owne  workes,  and  all  of  them  in  my  owne  knowl 
edge  lived  togeather  in  this  Queenes  raigne,  according  to  their 
Priorities  as  neere  as  I  could,  I  have  orderly  set  downe  (viz) 
George  Gascoigne  Esquire,  Thomas  Churchyard  Esquire,  Sir  Ed 
ward  Dyer  Knight,  Edmond  Spencer  Esquire,  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
Knight,  Sir  John  Harrington  Knight,  Sir  Thomas  Challoner 
Knight,  Sir  Frauncis  Bacon  Knight,  &  Sir  John  Dame  Knight, 
Master  lohn  Lillie  Gentleman,  Master  George  Chapman  Gentle 
man,  M.  W.  Warner  Gentleman,  Mast.  Wil.  Shakespeare  Gentle 
man,  Samuell  Daniell  Esquire,  Michaell  Draiton  Esquire,  of  the 
Bath,  Master  Christopher  Mario  Gen.,  M.  Benjamine  Johnson 
Gentleman,  lohn  Marston  Esquire,  Master  Abraham  Frauncis 
Gent.,  Master  Frauncis  Meers  Gentle.,  Master  Josua  Siluester 
Gentle.,  Master  Thomas  Decker  Gentleman,  M.  John  Fl.echer 


1 66  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Gentle.,  Mast.  John  Webster  Gentleman,  Ma.  Thomas  Heywood 
Gentleman,  M.  Thomas  Middleton,  Master  George  Withers. 
[Annales,  or  Generall  Chronicle  of  England,  1631,  p.  811.] 

James  Shirley,  1.631. 

Hip[polito].  .  .  .  Are  you  melancholy?  a  masque  is  prepared, 
and  music  to  charm  Orpheus  himself  into  a  stone;  numbers 
presented  to  your  ear  that  shall  speak  the  soul  of  the  immortal 
English  Jonson  .  .  . 

[Love's  Cruelty,  II,  ii.] 

Lucius  Carey,  Viscount  Falkland,  1631. 

So  let  His  liegiers  with  the  poets  joyne; 
Both  having  shares,  both  must  in  grief  combine: 
Whil'st  Johnson  forceth  with  his  elegie 
Teares  from  a  grief e-un knowing  Scythian's  eye, 
(Like  Moses,  at  whose  stroke  the  waters  gusht 
From  forth  the  rock  and  like  a  torrent  rusht). 

[An  Elegy  on  Dr.  Donne,  reprinted  in  Miscellanies  of  The  Fuller  Worthies' 
Library,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  iii,  381.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1631. 

Master  Allott 

7°  September. 

Assigned  over  unto  him  by  a  note  under  the  hand  of 
Master  John  Waterson  a  booke  called  The  stapell  of 

Newes  written  by  Master  Ben:  Johnson vjd 

this  note  was  subscribed  by  Master 
Islip  and  master  Smithwicke  Wardens 
[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  260.] 

Proposed  Edition,  1631? 

Bartholomew  Fayre:  A  Comedie,  Acted  in  the  Yeare,  1614. 
By  the  Lady  Elizabeths  Servants.  And  then  dedicated  to  King 
lames,  of  most  Blessed  Memorie;  By  the  Author,  Beniamin 
lohnson.  .  .  .  London,  Printed  by  I.  B.  for  Robert  Allot,  and 
are  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the  Beare,  in  Pauls  Church-yard. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  167 

The  Diuell  is  an  Asse:  A  Comedie  Acted  in  the  Yeare,  1616. 
By  His  Maiesties  Servants.  The  Author  Ben:  lohnson.  .  .  . 
London,  Printed  by  I.  B.  for  Robert  Allott  .  .  .  1631. 

The  Staple  of  Newes.  A  Comedie  Acted  in  the  Yeare,  1625. 
By  His  Maiesties  Servants.  The  Author  Ben:  lohnson.  .  .  . 
London,  Printed  by  I.  B.  for  Robert  Allot  .  .  .  1631. 

[These  three  plays,  printed  in  folio,  with  continuous  signatures,  seem 
to  have  been  designed  for  a  second  volume  of  Jonson's  Workes  as 
originally  issued  in  1616;  some  copies  were  apparently  bound  up, 
without  a  general  title-page  (a  copy,  thus  originally  bound,  is  in 
the  possession  of  one  of  the  editors  of  this  Allusion-Book).  All 
three  plays  were  later  included  in  the  folio  volume  of  1640,  which, 
though  it  contains  in  addition  The  Magnetic  Lady,  A  Tale  of  a 
Tub,  The  Sad  Shepherd,  and  Mortimer  His  Fall,  has  the  title  The 
Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson.  The  Second  Volume.  Containing 
these  Playes,  Viz.  i  Bartholomew  Fayre.  2  The  Staple  of  Newes. 
3  The  Di.ell  is  an  Asse.] 

Thomas  Hey  wood,  1631. 

To  the  Reader. 

Curteous  Reader,  my  plaies  have  not  beene  exposed  to  the 
publicke  view  of  the  world  in  numerous  sheets,  and  a  large 
volume,  but  singly  (as  thou  seest)  with  great  modesty  and  small 
noise. 

[Prefixed  to  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  West.  Heywood  elsewhere  takes 
occasion  to  refer  adversely  to  Jonson's  issuing  his  plays  under  the 
title  of  Workes.] 

London  City  Records,  1631. 

Jovis  decimo  die  novembris  1631,  Annoque  Regni  Regis  Caroli 
Angliae,  etc.,  septimo. 

Item:  it  is  ordered  by  this  Court  that  Mr.  Chamberlen  shall 
forbeare  to  pay  any  more  fee  or  wages  unto  Benjamine  Johnson 
the  Citties  Chronologer  until  he  shall  have  presented  unto  this 
Court  some  fruits  of  his  labours  in  that  his  place. 

[Extract  from  the  City  Records,  Rep.  No.  46,  fol.  8.  See  Jonson's 
interesting  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Newcastle,  December  10,  1631, 
printed  in  the  Shakespeare  Society  Papers,  1844,  vol.  i :  "Yesterday 
the  barbarous  Court  of  Aldermen  have  withdrawn  their  Chanderly 
Pension  for  Verjuice  and  Mustard,  33  h  6  s."] 


1 68  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1631. 

Received  of  Mr.  Blagrave,  in  the  name  of  the  kings  company, 
for  the  benefitt  of  my  winter  day,  taken  upon  The  Alchemiste, 
this  I  of  Decemb.  1631, — I3/.  os.  od. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  44.] 

John  Pory,  1632. 

Letter  to  Sir  Thomas  Puckering,  January  12,  1632. 

The  last  Sunday  at  night,  the  king's  Mask  was  acted  in  the 
banquetting  house,  the  queen's  being  suspended  till  another  time, 
by  reason  of  a  soreness  which  fell  into  one  of  her  delicate  eyes. 

The  inventor  or  poet  of  this  Mask  was  Mr.  Aurelian  Town- 
shend,  sometime  toward  [steward]  to  the  Lord  Treasurer  Salis 
bury;  Ben  Jonson  being,  for  this  time,  discarded  by  reason  of 
the  predominant  power  of  his  antagonist,  Inigo  Jones,  who,  this 
time  twelve-month,  was  angry  with  him  for  putting  his  own 
name  before  his  in  the  title-page;  which  Ben  Jonson  has  made 
the  subject  of  a  bitter  satire  or  two  against  Inigo. 

Jan.  12,  1631. 

[Reprinted  from  the  Gifford-Cunningham  ed.  of  Jonson,  1871,  i,  lv.] 

John  Milton,  1632. 

Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 
If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on. 
[V  Allegro,  11.  131-32.] 

Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  1632. 
Thou  more  than  Poet,  our  Mercurie  (that  art 
Apollo's  Messenger,  and  do'st  impart 
His  best  expressions  to  our  eares)  live  long 
To  purifie  the  slighted  English  tongue 
That  both  the  Nymphes  of  Tagus,  and  of  Poe, 
May  not  henceforth  despise  our  language  so. 
Nor  could  they  doe  it,  if  they  ere  had  scene 
The  matchlesse  features  of  the  faerie  Queene; 
Read  Johnson,  Shakespeare,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  or 
Thy  neat-limnd  peeces,  skilfull  Massinger. 

[Commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  Massinger 's  Emperor  of  the  East, 
1632.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  169 

Lucius  Carey,  Viscount  Falkland,  1632. 

An  Anniversary  Epistle  on  Sir  Henry  Morison,  with  an  Apostrophe 

to  my  Father  Jonson. 
Noble  Father. 

I  must  imitate  Mr:  Gamaliel  Du:  both  in  troubling  you,  wth 
ill  verses,  and  the  intention  of  professing  my  service  to  you 
by  them.  It  is  an  Anniversary  on  Sr  Harry  Morison.  In  wch:, 
because  there  is  something  concernes,  some  way,  an  Antagonist 
of  yours,  I  have  aplied  it  to  you.  Though  he  may  be  angry  at 
it,  I  am  yet  certaine  that,  tale  temperamentum  seguor  ut  de  Us 
guaeri  non  poterit,  si  de  se  bene  sentiat.  What  here  [sic]  is  ill  in 
them  (wch  I  feare  is  all)  it  belongs  only  to  my  self;  if  there  be 
any  thing  tollerable,  it  is  somethinge  you  drop't  negligentlie 
some  day  at  the  Dogg,  &  I  tooke  up. 

Tu  tantum  accipies,  ege  te  legisse  putabo, 
et  tumidus  Galla  credulitate  fruar. 

Sr:  I  am 

Your  Sonne,  &  Servant 

This  is  Poetique  furie!  when  the  pen 
of  such  a  Poet-paramont,  as  Ben, 
Hath  writt,  to  write  againe!  and  dare  to  meane 
(Where  such  a  Sickle  reapt  before)  to  gleane ! 
But  pardon  Father  for  what  I  rehearse, 
but  imitates  thy  friendship,  not  thy  Verse. 
Thou  of1  thy  Mistresse;  and2  his  Mistresse,  say; 
his  acts;  Her  beauties,  let  thy  Muse  display; 
Shew  us,  he  will  fifth  Henries  acts  repeat, 
and  prove  a  greater  Charles,  then  Charles  the  Great! 
how  now  hee  governes,  and  will  conquer  men ! 
and  write  his  Justice  now;  his  triumphs  then! 
This  is  thy  work!     My  'Affection  cannot  bee 
better  expres't,  then  by  ill  Poetrye. 
Hee  wrongs  his  Greif  els,  if  he  seeme  t'have  time 
to  change  an  Epithite,  dislike  a  Rime. 
1  The  King.      2  The  Queene.     [Marginal  notes  in  the  manuscript.] 


170  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

If  what  he  writt  he  crosse,  or  it  appeares 

his  paper  have  a  blott,  but  from  his  teares, 

Passion  being  strong,  Invention  should  be  weak. 

such  verse  as  Quarles  makes  God-all-mighty  speake 

Would  serve  a  mourner;  and  admired  bee 

for  the  no  Care,  and  the  Humility. 

And  I  am  certaine,  even  what  here  is  writt 

Will  praise  my  freindship,  though  condenme  my  witt. 

*         *         *         * 

Hee1  to  great  Virgill,  such  affection  tooke, 

he  was  no  more  his  Reader,  but  his  booke! 

Did  Ovid's,  and  high  Lucans  praise  display, 

Without  beholdingnes  to  Sands  or  May! 

And  next,  his  admiration  fix't  on  thee, 

Our  Metropolitane  in  Poetry!  .  .  . 

[Harl.  MS.  4955;   reproduced  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Anglia,  xxxvii,  474. 

Lucius  Carey,  Viscount  Falkland,  about  1632. 

An  Epistle  to  his  Noble  Father,  Mr.  Jonson. 

The  Fox  the  Lions  sight  extreamelie  fear'd 
haveing  his  force,  and  feircenes  onlie  heard; 
And,  the  first  time,  was  Ague-struck  to  see 
his  dangerous  Pawes,  and  King-like  Majestic; 
.The  second  meeting-time,  approaching  nere, 
A  warmer  courage  thaw'd  away  his  feare; 
The  third,  you  would  have  thought,  he  had  his  Twin 
his  Den-fellowe,  or  long  acquaintance  bin. 
'Twas  onlie  custome;  for  the  Fox  had  skill 
to  know  the  Lion,  was  a  Lion,  still. 
Such  is  my  case :  for  when  I  first  did  see 
the  Patent  of  your  Imortalitie 

Your  workes,  by  whose  full  Style,  Strong  Witt,  I  knew 
so  long  as  English  liv'd,  so  long  would  you! 
I  should  have  quak'd,  if  I  had  thought  to  write 
to  Phaebus,  his  owne  wonder,  Mans  Delight! 
That  which  augments  my  Courage,  with  such  Store, 
is  not  I  like  you  lesse;  But  know  you  more; 
1  Morison.     [Marginal  note  in  the  manuscript.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  171 

I  thought  you  proud,  for  I  did  surely  knowe, 

had  I  Ben:  Jonson,  bene,  I  had  beene  soe. 

And  thought  it  was  forgiveable,  nay  fitt 

for  him,  whose  Muse  had  such  wit-wonders,  writt. 

Now  I  recant;  And  doubt,  whether  your  Store 

of  Ingenuity,  or  Ingenie,  be  more! 

I  wish  your  Wealth  were  equall  to  them  both, 

You  have  deserv'd  it :  yet  I  should  be  loth 

that  want,  should  a  Quotidian  trouble  bee 

to  such  a  Zeno,  in  Phylosophie; 

Shame's  wants  worst  companie;   and  'tis  no  shame 

to  want  in  Mettall,  and  be  rich  in  fame 

In  Hell,  it  might  Sejanus  spirits  raise 

that  your  pen  spoke  of  him,  although  Dispraise. 

Hee  sure  would  choose  a  mention  from  your  Quill, 

rather,  then  t'have  bene  fix't  a  Favorite  still. 

Hee  may  allow  Tiberiub  thanks,  not  hate; 

his  worser,  hath  begot  his  better  Fate. 

Hee  had  not  cause  to  joy,  so  in  that  hower 

he  second  was  in  place;  but  first,  in  power, 

of  all  the  world !     Then  can  there  be  a  Blisse 

to  be  com  par 'd,  nay  to  come  neare  to  his? 

Whom  this  your  Quill  (not  differing  from  your  hart) 

hath  often  mencion'd,  on  the  better  part? 

Shall  he  that  all  els  cures,  himself  not  live? 

can  you  want  that,  you  can  to  others  give? 

None  gives  but  what  hee  hath;  that  happines 

You  deale  abroad,  still  you  your-self  possesse: 

Though  given  to  others,  it  becomes  their  Due: 

it,  echo-like,  reverberates  to  vow! 

*         *         *         * 

that  Man's  most  happie,  that  makes  others  soe. 
Ipse  ego  qui  nullos  me  affirmo  scribere  versus 
Invenior  Parthis  mendacior,  et  prius  or  to 
Sole,  Vigil  calamum,  et  chartas,  et  scrinia  posco. 

Your  Sonne  and  servant. 

Lucius  Gary. 

[Harl.  MS.  4955;  reproduced  by  W.  D.  Briggs,  Anglia,  xxxvii,  478.] 


172  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1632. 

In  the  yeere  1612  master  Daniel  Fealtie  being  in  France, 
Chaplaine  to  the  embassadour  of  our  late  soueraigne,  there 
came  to  Paris  one  M.  Kneuet,  half-brother  to  M.  John  Foord, 
an  honest  and  vertuous  gentleman  then  living  in  that  cittie. 
This  M.  Kneuet,  being,  upon  his  arrival  there,  put  in  mind,  that 
he  was  mistaken  in  the  matter  of  religion,  .  .  .  tould  his 
brother  (M.  Foord)  he  would  see  one  of  ours  defend  it  before  M. 
Fealtie.  .  .  .  Withall  he  acquainted  M.  Fealtie  with  the  busines, 
and  with  the  point  he  meant  should  be  discussed.  M.  Fealtie 
thinking  himselfe  alone  hard  enough  for  the  whole  church  of 
Rome,  undertooke  it.  ...  At  leingth,  upon  the  third  of  Sep 
tember,  word  was  sent  to  M.  D.  Smith  (who  .  .  .  was  entreated 
to  undertake  the  cause)  that  he  should  provide  himselfe  for  the 
morrow.  On  the  4  of  September  there  met  at  M.  Kneuet's 
chamber  M.  D.  Smith,  and  M.  Fealty.  With  M.  D.  Smith 
came  his  cozen  M.  Rainer,  .  .  .  and  with  M.  Fealty  came  one 
M.  John  Porie,  who  had  beene  a  burgeois  (as  it  was  said)  in  the 
first  parlament  in  king  James  his  time.  There  were  also  present 
M.  John  Foord,  M.  Thomas. Rant,  M.  Ben.  Johnson,  M.  Henrie 
Constable  and  .others,  not  English  onlie  but  also  French:  for 
M.  Fealty  presuming  the  victory,  had  made  the  matter  knowne. 

[The  Summe  of  a  Conference  betwixt  M.  D.  Smith  now  B.  of  Chalcedon> 
and  M.  Dan.  Fealty  Minister,  1632;  cited  in  Wood's  Athene 
Oxonienses,  ed.  Philip  Bliss,  1815,  iii,  1254.] 

Thomas  Randolph,  1632. 

Eclogue  to  Master  Jonson. 

TITYRUS  [i.e.  Jonson]. 

Under  this  beech  why  sitt'st  thou  here  so  sad, 
Son  Damon,  that  was  erst  a  jovial  lad? 
These  groves  were  wont  to  echo  with  the  sound 
Of  thy  shrill  reed,  while  every  nymph  danc'd  round. 
Rouse  up  thy  soul;  Parnassus  Mount  stands  high, 
And  must  be  climb'd  with  painful  industry. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  173 

DAMON  [i.e.  Randolph]. 
You,  father,  on  his  forked  top  sit  still, 
And  see  us  panting  up  so  steep  a  hill; 
But  I  have  broke  my  reed,  and  deeply  swore 
New  with  wax,  never  to  joint  it  more. 

TITYRUS. 

Fond  boy,  'twas  rashly  done:  I  meant  to  thee 
Of  all  the  sons  I  have,  by  legacy 
To  have  bequeath'd  my  pipe.     Thee,  thee  of  all 
I  meant  it  should  her  second  master  call. 

DAMON. 

And  do  you  think  I  durst  presume  to  play 
Where  Tityrus  had  worn  his  lip  away? 
Live  long  thyself  to  tune  it;  'tis  from  thee, 
It  has  not  from  itself  such  harmony. 
Bvt  if  we  ever  such  disaster  have 
As  to  compose  our  Tityrus  in  his  grave; 
Yonder,  upon  yon  aged  oak,  that  now 
Old  trophies  bears  on  every  sacred  bough , 
We'll  hang  it  up  a  relic;  we  will  do  it, 
And  learned  swains  shall  pay  devotion  to  it. 

TITYRUS. 

Can'st  thou  farewell  unto  the  Muses  bid? 
Then  bees  shall  loathe  the  thyme,  the  new- wean 'd  kid 
Browse  on  the  buds  no  more;  the  teeming  ewes 
Henceforth  the  tender  fallows  shall  refuse. 

DAMON. 

I  by  those  ladies  now  do  nothing  set ; 
Let  'em  for  me  some  other  servant  get. 
They  shall  no  more  be  mistresses  of  mine, 
No,  though  my  pipe  had  hope  to  equal  thine — 
Thine,  which  the  floods  have  stopp'd  their  course  to  hear; 
To  which  the  spotted  lynx  hath  lent  an  ear. 


174  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Which  while  the  several  echoes  would  repeat, 
The  music  has  been  sweet,  the  art  so  great 
That  Pan  himself,  amaz'd  at  thy  deep  airs, 
Sent  the'e  of  his  own  bowl  to  drown  thy  cares. 
Of  all  the  Gods,  Pan  doth  the  pipe  respect: 
The  rest  unlearned  pleasures  more  affect. 
Pan  can  distinguish  what  thy  raptures  be 
From  Bavius'  loose,  lascivious  minstrelsy, 
Or  Maevius'  windy  bagpipe — Maevius,  he 
Whose  wit  is  but  a  tavern  timpany. 
If  ever  I  flock  of  my  own  do  feed, 
My  fattest  lambs  shall  on  his  altar  bleed. 

TITYRUS. 

Two  altars  I  will  build  him,  and  each  year 
Will  sacrifice  two  well-fed  bullocks  there: 
Two  that  have  horns,  that  while  they  butting  stand, 
Strike  from  their  feet  a  cloud  of  numerous  sand. 
But  what  can  make  thee  leave  the  Muses,  man, 
That  such  a  patron  hast  as  mighty  Pan? 
Whence  is  this  fury?     Did  the  partial  ear 
Of  the  rude  vulgar,  when  they  late  did  hear 
Egon  and  thee  contend  which  best  should  play, 
Him  victor  deem,  and  give  thy  kid  away? 
Does  Amaryllis  cause  this  high  despair? 
Or  Galatea's  coyness  breed  thy  care? 

DAMON. 

Neither  of  these:  the  vulgar  I  contemn. 

Thy  pipe  not  always,  Tityrus,  wins  from  them: 

And  as  for  love,  in  sooth  I  do  not  know 

Whether  he  wears  a  bow  and  shafts,  or  no. 

Or  did  I,  I  a  way  could  quickly  find 

To  win  the  beauteous  Galatea's  mind, 

Or  Amaryllis.     I  to  both  could  send 

Apples  that  with  Hesperian  fruit  contend : 

And  on  occasion  could  have  quickly  guess'd 

Where  two  fair  ring  doves  built  their  amorous  nest. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  175 

TlTYRUS. 

If  none  of  these,  my  Damon,  then  a-reed, 
What  other  cause  can  so  much  passion  breed? 

DAMON. 

Father,  I  will;  in  those  indulgent  ears 
I  dare  unload  the  burden  of  my  fears.  .  .  . 

[The  Poetical  and  Dramatic  Works  of  Thomas  Randolph,  ed.  W.  C. 
Hazlitt,  1875,  p.  605.  The  poem  is  too  long  to  be  quoted  here 
in  full.] 

John  Harriot,  1633. 
All  men,  we  know,  delight  in  Benjamin. 

[The  Booke-seller,  to  the  Reader,  prefixed  to  Poems.  By  Robert 
Gomersall,  London,  1633. ^ 

Thomas  Heywood,  1633. 

My  Playes  are  not  exposed  unto  the  world  in  Volumes,  to 
beare  the  title  of  Works,  as  others. 

[To  the  Reader,  prefixed  to  The  English  Traveller,  1633.  This  is  one 
of  many  jibes  at  Jonson's  publication  of  his  plays  under  the  title 
of  Workes.] 

Thomas  Bancroft,  1633. 

But  the  chast  bay  not  euery  songster  weares, 
Nor  of  Appollo's  sonnes  prooue  all  his  heires: 
'Tis  not  for  all  to  reach  at  Shakespeares  height, 
Or  thinke  to  grow  to  solid  lohnsons  weight, 
To  bid  so  faire  as  Chapman  for  a  fame, 
Or  match  (your  family)  the  Beaumonts  name. 
[Verses  prefixed  to  his  Glutton's  Feaver,  1633.] 

Shackerley  Marmion,  1633. 

Enter  CARELESS,  drunk. 

Car.     .  .  .  Save  you,  fair  lady. 

jEmi[tta].     Save  you,  Master  Careless. 

Car.     Will  you  hear  me  speak  any  wise  sentences? 
I  am  now  as  discreet  in  my  conceit 
As  the  seven  Sophies  of  Greece,  I  am  full 


1 76  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Of  oracles,  I  am  come  from  Apollo; 

Would  he  had  lent  me  his  tripos  to  stand  upon, 

For  my  two  legs  can  hardly  carry  me. 

;Emi.     Whence  come  you?  from  Apollo? 

Car.     From  the  heaven 
Of  my  delight,  where  the  boon  Delphic  god 
Drinks  sack,  and  keeps  his  Bacchanalias, 
And  has  his  incense,  and  his  altars  smoking, 
And  speaks  in  sparkling  prophecies;  thence  do  I  come! 
My  brains  perfum'd  with  the  rich  Indian  vapour, 
And  height'ned  with  conceits,  from  tempting  beauties, 
From  dainty  music  and  poetic  strains, 
From  bowls  of  nectar,  and  ambrosiac  dishes : 
From  witty  varlets,  fine  companions, 
And  from  a  mighty  continent  of  pleasure, 
Sails  thy  brave  Careless. 

[.4    Fine   Companion,   1633,   II,  iv.     The  passages  gives  an  interesting 
description  of  Jonson's  gatherings  with  his  "sons"  at  the  Apollo.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1633. 

R.  for  allowinge  of  The  Tale  of  the  Tubb,  Vitru  Hoop's  parte 
wholly  strucke  out,  and  the  motion  of  the  tubb,  by  commande 
from  my  lorde  chamberlin:  exceptions  being  taken  against  it 
by  Inigo  Jones,  surveyor  of  the  kings  workes,  as  a  personal  injury 
unto  him.  May  7,  1633, — 2/.  o.  o. 

1633,  October  18.  On  friday  the  nineteenth  [an  error  for 
"eighteenth"]  of  October,  1633,  I  send  a  warrant  by  a  messenger 
of  the  chamber  to  suppress  The  Tamer  Tamd,  to  the  Kings 
players,  for  that  afternoone,  and  it  was  obeyed;  upon  complaints 
of  foule  and  offensive  matters  conteyned  therein. 
They  acted  The  Scornful  Lady  instead  of  it. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  pp.  34,  20.] 

Thomas  Nabbes,  1633. 

Jam[es].     How  shall  we  spend  the  day,  Sam? 

Sam.     Let's  home  to  our  studies  and  put  cases. 

Jam.     Hang  cases  and  bookes  that  are  spoyl'd  with  them. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  177 

Give  me  Johnson  and  Shakespeare;  there's  learning  foi  a  gentle 
man.  I  tell  thee,  Sam,  were  it  not  for  the  dancing-schoole  and 
Playhouses,  I  would  not  stay  at  the  Innes  of  Court  for  the  hopes 
of  a  chiefe  Justice-ship.  (Ill,  i.) 

***** 

Wife.  .  .  .  There  was  a  Tub  at  Totenham;  you  know  the 
successe  of  it.  (V,  iv.) 

[Tottenham  Court,  1633.     The  second  passage  seems  to  be  an  allusion 
to  Jonson's  Tale  of  a  Tub.] 

John  Pory,  1633. 

Letter  to  Sir  Thomas  Puckering,  September  20,  1633. 
Ben  Jonson  (who  I  thought  had  been  dead)  hath  written  a  play 
against  next  term  called  the  Magnetick  Lady. 

[Reprinted  in  J.  P.  Collier's  Annals  of  the  Stage,  1879,  i>  471-] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1633. 

Received  of  Knight,  for  allowing  of  Ben  Johnsons  play  called 
Humours  Reconciled,  or  the  Magnetic  Lady,  to  be  acted,  this  I2th 
of  Octob,  1632  [Malone's  error  for  1633?],  2^-  °-  °- 

1633,  October  24.  Upon  a  second  petition  of  the  players  to 
the  High  Commission  court,  wherein  they  did  mee  right  in  my 
care  to  purge  their  plays  of  all  offense,  my  lords  Grace  of  Canter 
bury  bestowed  many  words  upon  mee,  and  discharged  mee  of 
any  blame,  and  layd  the  whole  fault  of  their  play,  called  The 
Magnetick  Lady,  upon  the  players.  This  happened  the  24  of 
Octob.  1633,  at  Lambeth.  In  their  first  petition  they  would 
have  excused  themselves  on  mee  and  the  poett. 

{The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  pp.  34,  21.] 

Alexander  Gill,  1633. 

To  B  Johnson  on  his  Magnetick  Lady. 
Is  this  yr  Load-stone  Ben  that  must  attract 
Applause  and  laughter  at  each  scene  and  act? 
Is  this  the  child  of  your  bed-ridden  witt 
And  none  but  ye  black- friers  to  foster  it? 
If  to  the  fortune  you  had  sent  yovr  Lady, 
Mongst  prentises  or  applewives,  it  may  be 
13 


1 78  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Your  Rosy  foole  might  have  some  sport  begott 
With  his  strang  habit  &  indefinite  nott, 
But  when  as  silke  and  push  &  all  the  witts 
Are  cal'd  to  see,  and  censure  as  befitts; 
And  if  your  folly  take  not,  they  perchance 
Must  here  themselves  stil'd  Gentle  Ignorance. 
Foh  how  it  stinkes !  what  generall  offence 
Gives  thy  prophaneness  such  gross  impudence? 
O  how  yr  freind  Natt:   Butter  gan  to  melt 
When  at  the  pooreness  of  your  platt  he  smelt 
And  Inigo  with  laughter  then  grew  fatt 
That  ther  was  nothing  ther  worth  laughing  att. 
And  yet  thou  crazy  wretch  art  confident 
Belching  out  full-mouth'd  oathes  wth  foule  intent 
Calling  ys  fooles  and  rogues  vnletterd  men 
Poore  narrow  soules  y*  cannot  judge  of  Ben. 
Yet  what  is  worse  after  three  shamefull  foyles 
The  printer  must  be  put  to  further  toyles 
Whereas  indeede  to  vindicate  thy  fame 
Th'  hadst  better  given  thy  pamp[h]let  to  ye  flame, 
Oh  what  a  strange  prodigious  yeare  t'wil  bee! 
If  this  thy  play  come  forth  in  thirtie  three; 
Let  Domes  Day  rather  come  on  newe  years  eve 
And  of  thy  paper  plague  ye  world  bereave. 
Which  plague  I  feare  worse  than  a  Servant's  bitt 
Worst  then  infection  or  an  ague  fitt, 
Worse  then  the  Astronomers  Divining  lipps 
Worse  then  three  suns,  a  comet,  or  eclips: 
Or  if  thy  learned  brother  Allestree 
(Whose  Homer  vnto  thee  for  Poetrie) 
Should  tell  of  raine  vpon  St  Swithins  day. 
And  y*  should  wash  our  harvest  quite  away. 
As  for  ye  press  if  thy  play  must  come  to  it 
Let  Tho:  Purfoote  or  John  Trundle  do  it, 
In  such  dull  characters,  as  for  releifes 
Of  fires  and  wracks  wee  find  in  begging  breifes, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  179 

And  in  Cap-paper  let  it  printed  bee; 
(Indeede  brown  paper  is  to  good  for  thee) 
But  let  it  then  be  soe  Apocryphall 
As  not  to  dare  to  venter  on  a  stall 
Vnless  of  Druggers,  Grocers,  Chandlers,  Cooks, 
Victuallers,  Tobacco  men,  &  such  like  rookes; 
From  bucklers  bury  let  it  not  be  bar'd 
But  thinke  not  of  Duck  lane,  or  Pauls-church-yard : 
But  to  advise  thee  Ben  in  this  strict  age 
A  Brick-kilne's  better  for  thee  then  a  stage 
Tho[u]  better  knowest  a  grounsel  how  to  lay 
Then  lay  the  plott  or  groundworke  of  a  play ; 
And  better  canst  direct  to  cappe  a  chimny 
Then  to  converse  wth  Clio  or  Polyhymny, 
•    Fall  to  thy  trade  in  thy  old  age  agen, 
Take  vp  thy  trugge  and  trowell  gentle  Ben ; 
Let  playes  alone,  or  if  thou  needs  will  write 
And  thrust  thy  feeble  muse  forth  into  light, 
Lett  Lowin  cease  and  Taylor  fear  to  touch 
The  loathed  stage,  for  now  thou  makst  it  such. 

[From  a  seventeenth  century  commonplace-book  in  the  possession  of 
one  of  the  editors  of  this  volume;  see  Modern  Language  Review, 
vii,  296.  A  slightly  imperfect  copy,  with  some  variant  readings, 
from  the  Ashmole  MSS.,  is  printed  in  The  Works  of  Ben  Jonson, 
ed.  Gifford-Cunningham,  1871,  ii,  437.] 

Zouch  Townley,  1633. 

To  Mr.  Ben  Johnson  against  Mr.  Alexander  Gill's  verses  wrighten 
by  hym  against  the  play  called  The  Magnettick  Ladye. 
Itt  cannott  move  thy  frind,  firme  Ben,  that  hee 
Whome  the  starr-chamber  censur'd,  rayles  at  thee. 
I  gratulate  the  metheod  of  thy  fate, 
That  joyn'd  the  next,  in  malice,  to  the  state; 
Thus  Nero,  after  parricidall  guilt, 
Brookes  noe  delayes  till  Lu can's  blood  bee  spilte, 
Nor  could  his  mischife  finde  a  second  crime 
Unles  hee  slew  the  poett  of  the  tyme. 
But,  thankes  to  Hellicon,  here  are  no  blowes, 
This  drone  noe  more  of  stinge  than  honye  shewes; 


l8o  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

His  verses  shall  be  counted  censures,  when 
Cast  malefactors  are  made  jurie-men. 
Meane-while  rejoyce,  that  soe  disgrac't  a  quill 
Tempted  to  wound  that  worth,  tyme  cannot  kill. 
And  thou  who  darst  to  blast  fame  fully  blowne, 
Lye  buried  in  the  ruines  of  thyne  owne, 
Vex  not  thyne  ashes,  open  nott  the  deepe, 
The  goste  of  thyne  slayne  name  would  rather  sleep. 

[MS.  Ashmole  38  (6907),  fol.  59.  Printed  in  Wood's  Athena  Oxonienses, 
ed.  Philip  Bliss,  1815,  ii,  600,  and  in  Gifford's  edition  of  Jonson. 
The  verses  are  found  also  in  the  commonplace-book  mentioned 
in  the  preceding  entry,  where  they  are  entitled  "To  B  Johnson  on 
Gil's  rayling."] 

George  Chapman,  1633? 

An  Invective  written  by  Mr.  George  Chapman  against  Mr.  -Ben. 

Jonson. 

Great,  learned,  witty  Ben,  be  pleased  to  light 

The  world  with  that  three-forked  fire;  nor  fright 

All  us,  thy  sublearn'd,  with  luciferous  boast 

That  thou  art  most  great,  most  learn'd,  witty  most 

Of  all  the  kingdom,  nay  of  all  the  earth ; 

As  being  a  thing  betwixt  a  human  birth 

And  an  infernal;  no  humanity 

Of  the  divine  soul  shewing  man  in  thee, 

Being  all  of  pride  composed  and  surquedry. 

Thus  it  might  argue;  if  thy  petulant  will 

May  fly-blow  all  men  with  thy  great  swan's-quill, 

If  it  can  write  no  plays,  if  thy  plays  fail, 

All  the  earnests  of  our  kingdom  straight  must  vail 

To  thy  wild  fury ;  that,  as  if  a  fiend 

Had  sharp'd  his  sickle,  shew'st  thy  breast  is  spleen 'd, 

Frisking  so  madly  that  'gainst  Town  and  Court 

Thou  plant'st  thy  battery  in  most  hideous  sort. 

If  thy  pied  humours  suffer  least  impair, 

And  any  vapour  vex  thy  virulent  air, 

The  Dunkerks  keep  not  our  coal  ships  in  awe 

More  than  thy  moods  are  thy  admirers'  law; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  l8l 

All  else,  as  well  the  grafters  of  thy  paws 

With  panic  terrors  fly,  bed-rid  of  cause, 

And  let  the  swinish  itch  of  thy  fell  wreak 

Rub  'gainst  the  presence-royal  without  check. 

How  must  state  use  thee  if  thy  veins  thus  leak, 

Thou  must  be  muzzled,  ring'd,  and  led  in  chains, 

Lest  dames  with  child  abide  untimely  pains, 

And  children  perish ;  didst  thou  not  put  out 

A  boy's  right  eye  that  cross'd  thy  mankind  pout? 

If  all  this  yet  find  pardon,  fee,  and  grace, 

The  happiest  outlaw  th'  art  that  ever  was. 

Goodness  to  virtue  is  a  godlike  thing, 

And  man  with  God  joins  in  a  good-doing  king 

But  to  give  vice  her  rein ;  and  on  all  his 

(As  their  pure  merits)  to  confer  all  this 

Who  will  not  argue  it  redounds?     Whatever 

Vice  is  sustain 'd  withal,  turns  pestilent  fever, 

What  nourishes  virtue,  evermore  converts 

To  blood  and  spirits  of  nothing  but  deserts ; 

And  shall  a  viper  hanging  on  her  hand 

By  his  own  poison  his  full  swindge  command? 

How  shall  grave  virtue  spirit  her  honour'd  fame 

If  motley  mockery  may  dispose  her  shame 

Never  so  dully,  nor  with  such  adust 

And  clouted  choler?  'tis  the  foulest  lust 

That  ever  yet  did  violate  actions  just. 

But  if  this  weigh'd,  proved  vile,  and  saucy  spirit, 

Depraving  every  exemplary  merit, 

May  yet  nought  less  all  his  fat  hopes  inherit — 

(When  men  turn  harpies,  their  blood  standing  lakes 

Green-bellied  serpents,  and  black-freckled  snakes, 

Crawling  in  their  unwieldy  elotter'd  veins: 

Their  tongues  grown  forked,  and  their  sorcerous  pens 

Like  pictures  prick'd,  and  hid  in  smoking  dunghills 

Vex'd  with  the  sun)  'tis  time  I  think  to  banish 

And  cast  out  such  unhallowedly  disloyal 

From  blood  thrice  sacred  and  divinely  royal. 


1 82  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

There's  an  invention  mountebank  enough 

To  make  petards  to  blow  up  men's  good  names, 

Virtues  and  dignities,  for  vice's  pleasure; 

Take  but  an  idle  and  ridiculous  crew 

Of  base  back-biters  that  it  never  knew 

Virtue  or  worth  to  manage ;  great  flesh-flies 

Slight  all  the  clear  and  sound  parts  where  they  pass 

And  dwell  upon  the  sores;  and  call  to  them 

The  common  learned  gatherer  of  poisons 

For  envied  merits  that  we  cannot  equal, 

And  let  them  glean  from  malice  and  foul  mouths 

Devices  long  since  done,  and  set  them  down 

With  spleen,  stupid  and  dead  as  brutish  rests, 

Transforming  all  most  wrathful  fumes  to  jests, 

Letting  the  king  his  royal  ear  allow; 

And  there's  a  reputation. broke  as  small 

And  with  as  mighty  arguments  let  fall 

As  the  Greek  man's  pure  bodies  genital; 

So  that  if  scandals  false  bear  free  their  spite 

All  guiltless  forms  are  forced  with  rape  and  flight, 

And  shall  all  other  raisers  of  their  names 

T'airs  highest  region  by  such  short-wing'd  fames 

Hold  not  their  titles,  and  whole  states-like  tenures? 

May  we  not  humblest  things  with  highest  rate 

And  least  with  great'st,  where  right  must  moderate? 

Now  to  your  parts  call'd  good;  your  sacred  desk, 

The  wooden  fountain  of  the  mighty  Muses, 

Alas!  is  burn'd;  and  there  all  their  wealth  fail'd 

That  never  can  with  all  time  be  retail'd. 

Why  then  as  good  not  name  them  ?  yes,  O  yes, 

Ten  times  repeated  will  all  brave  things  please, 

Not  with  their  titles  yet,  and  poor  self-praises. 

He  lives  yet  (heaven  be  praised!)  that  can  write 

In  his  ripe  years  much  better,  and  new-born 

In  spite  of  Vulcan,  whom  all  true  pens  scorn. 

Yet  let  me  name  them  in  meantime  to  cheer 

His  greedy  followers  with  a  prick'd-up  ear, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  183 

It  does  himself  ease,  and  why  them  no  good? 

Come  serve  it  in  then:   give  him  golden  food. 

Nobody,  he  dares  say,  yet  have  sound  parts 

Of  profound  search  and  mastery  in  the  arts; 

And  perfect  then  his  English  Grammar  too 

To  teach  some  what  their  nurses  could  not  do, 

The  purity  of  language,  and  among 

The  rest  his  Journey  into  Scotland  sung, 

And  twice- twelve-years  stored-up  humanity, 

With  humble  gleanings  in  Divinity 

After  the  Fathers,  and  those  wiser  guides 

That  faction  had  not  drawn  to  steady  sides : 

Canst  thou  lose  these  by  fire,  and  live  yet  able 

To  write  past  Jove's  wrath,  fire,  and  air,  things  stable, 

Yet  curse  as  thou  wert  lost  for  every  bable? 

Some  poor  thing  write  new;  a  rich  casket,  Ben, 

All  of  rich  gems,  t'adorn  most  learned  men ; 

Or  a  reclaim  of  most  facete  supposes 

To  teach  full-habited  men  to  blow  their  noses. 

Make  the  king  merry;  would'st  thov  now  be  known 

The  Devil  and  the  Vice,  and  both  in  one 

Thou  doest  things  backwards,  are  men  thought  to  know 

Masteries  in  th'  arts,  with  saying  they  do  so, 

And  crying  fire  out  in  a  dream  tQ  kings, 

Burn  things  unborn,  and  that  way  generate  things, 

Write  some  new  lactean  way  to  thy  high  presence 

And  make  not  ever  thy  strong  fancy  essence 

To  all  thou  would'st  be  thought  in  all  worlds'  worth, 

Or  else  like  Hercules  Furens  breaking  forth 

Biting  the  green-cloth,  as  a  dog  a  stone 

And  for  ridiculous  shadow  of  the  bone 

Hazard  the  substance;  will  thy  fortune  still, 

Spite  of  all  learning,  back  the  wit  thy  will, 

Though  thy  play  genius  hang  his  broken  wings 

Full  of  sick  feathers,  and  with  forced  things, 

Imp  thy  scenes,  labour'd  and  unnatural, 

And  nothing  good  comes  with  thy  thrice-vex'd  call 


1 84  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Comest  thou  not  yet,  not  yet?     O  no,  nor  yet; 
Yet  are  thy  learn 'd  admirers  so  deep  set 
In  thy  preferment  above  all  that  cite 
The  sun  in  challenge  for  the  heat  and  light 
Of  both  heaven's  influences  which  of  you  two  knew 
And  have  most  power  in  them;  Great  Ben,  'tis  you. 
Examine  him,  some  truly-judging  spirit, 
That  pride  nor  fortune  hath  to  blind  his  merit, 
He  match'd  with  all  book-fires,  he  ever  read 
His  dusk  poor  candle-rents ;  his  own  fat  head 
With  all  the  learn'd  world's,  Alexander's  flame 
That  Caesar's  conquest  cow'd,  and  stript  his  fame, 
He  shames  not  to  give  reckoning  in  with  his ; 
As  if  the  king  pardoning  his  petulancies 
Should  pay  his  huge  loss  too  in  such  a  score 
As  all  earth's  learned  fires  he  gather'd  for. 
What  think'st  thou,  just  friend?  equall'd  not  this  pride 
All  yet  that  ever  Hell  or  Heaven  defied? 
And  yet  for  all  this,  this  club  will  inflict 
His  faultful  pain,  and  him  enough  convict 
.  He  only  reading  show'd;  learning,  nor  wit; 
Only  Dame  Gilian's  fire  his  desk  will  fit. 
But  for  his  shift  by  fire  to  save  the  loss 
Of  his  vast  learning,  this  may  prove  it  gross : 
True  Muses  ever  vent  breaths  mixt  with  fire 
Which,  form'd  in  numbers,  they  in  flames  expire 
Not  only  flames  kindled  with  their  own  bless'd  breath 
That  give  th'  unborn  life,  and  eternize  death. 
Great  Ben,  I  know  that  this  is  in  thy  hand 
And  how  thou  fix'd  on  heaven's  fix'd  star  dost  stand 
In  all  men's  admirations  and  command; 
For  all  that  can  be  scribbled  'gainst  the  sorter 
Of  thy  dead  repercussions  and  reporter. 
The  kingdom  yields  not  such  another  man ; 
Wonder  of  men  he  is ;  the  player  can 
And  bookseller  prove  true,  if  they  could  know 
Only  one  drop,  that  drives  in  such  a  flow. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  185 

Are  they  not  learned  beasts,  the  better  far 

Their  drossy  exhalations  a  star 

Their  brainless  admirations  may  render; 

For  learning  in  the  wise  sort  is  but  lender 

Of  men's  prime  notion's  doctrine;  their  own  way 

Of  all  skills'  preceptible  forms  a  key 

Forging  to  wealth,  and  honour-soothed  sense, 

Never  exploring  truth  or  consequence, 

Informing  any  virtue  or  good  life 

And  therefore  Player,  Bookseller,  or  Wife 

Of  either,  (needing  no  such  curious  key) 

All  men  and  things,  may  know  their  own  rude  way. 

Imagination  and  our  appetite  * 

Forming  our  speech  no  easier  than  they  light 

All  letterless  companions;  t'all  they  know 

Here  or  hereafter  that  like  earth's  sons  plough 

All  under-worlds  and  ever  downwards  grow. 

Nor  let  your  learning  think,  egregious  Ben, 

These  letterless  companions  are  not  men 

With  all  the  arts  and  sciences  indued, 

If  of  man's  true  and  worthiest  knowledge  rude, 

Which  is  to  know  and  be  one  complete  man, 

And  that  not  all  the  swelling  ocean 

Of  arts  and  sciences,  can  pour  both  in: 

If  that  brave  skill  then  when  thou  didst  begin 

To  study  letters,  thy  great  wit  had  plied, 

Freely  and  only  thy  disease  of  pride 

In  vulgar  praise  had  never  bound  thy  [hide]. 

[From  a  common-place  book  preserved  among  the  Ashmole  MSS.  in 
the  Bodleian  Library;  see  The  Works  of  George  Chapman:  Poems 
and  Minor  Translations,  ed.  A.  C.  Swinburne,  1875,  P-  432-l 

John  Rogers,  1633. 

Si  cadus  expletus  merito  Jonsonius  audit, 
(Nunc  licet  exhaustum  declamet  nescia  turba) 
Tflte  Caballini  fis  jure  Tricongio  fontis. 

[Commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  Peter  Hausted's  Senile  Odium,  1633. 
The  allusion  is  to  the  failure  of  Jonson's  Magnetic  Lady.} 


1 86  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Edward  Kemp,  1633. 

Trutinam  plebis  amove, 
Et  tolle  lances:  Bellua  (Jonsoni)  hsec  tui 
Magneticam  socci  vim,  &  arduam  ecstasin 
Contemnere  audet:  merita  nee  satis  sestimat 
Inops  tribus  tua,  verticis  gaudet  nives 

Spectare,  canitiemque  parentis: 

Laureati  (quam  dolet !) 


Properavit  horum  contumacia  Senis 
Paralysis;  en!  Infamise  (Potens)  cadis 
Reus  invidendae;  chartularumque  veterum 
Concoctiones  furta  putantur. 
[Commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  Peter  Hausted's  Senile  Odium,  1633. 

Shackerley  Marmion,  1633. 

Crit[ic  to  the  Author}.     Oh,  you  are  deaf  to  all 
Sounds  but  a  plaudit,  and  yet  you  may 
Remember,  if  you  please,  what  entertainment 
Some  of  your  tribe  have  had  that  have  took  pains 
To  be  contemn'd,  and  laught  at  by  the  vulgar, 
And  then  ascrib'd  it  to  their  ignorance. 
I  should  be  loth  to  see  you  move  their  spleens 
With  no  better  success,  and  then  with  some 
Commendatory  Epistles  fly  to  the  press, 
To  vindicate  your  credit.- 

[Prologue  to  A    Fine   Companion,    1633.     The  allusion  is  clearly  to 
Jonson.] 

Anonymous,  1633? 

Jonson  that  whilome  brought  the  guilty  age 
To  suffer  for  her  misdeeds  on  ye  stage, 
Ruin'd  by  age  now  cannot  hold  out  play, 
And  must  bee  forc'd  to  throw  his  cards  away : 
For  since  he  so  ill  keeps  what  hee  earst  wonne, 
Since  that  his  reputation's  lost  and  gone, 
The  age  sweares  she'll  no  longer  hold  him  play 
With  her  attention;  but  without  delay 


TO  BEN  JONSON  187 

Will  rise,  if  some  fresh  Gamester  will  not  fitte, 
That's  furnished  with  a  better  stocke  of  witte. 

[These  verses  appear  in  a  contemporary  hand  in  a  copy  of  the  1616 
folio  edition  of  Jonson,  described  in  the  Sale  Catalogue  of  Lilly's 
books  (page  160,  item  1557);  see  J.  M.  Cowper,  The  Times  Whistle, 
1871,  p.  xii.] 

Tradition,  about  1633. 

In  a  Conversation  between  Sir  John  Suckling,  Sir  William 
D'Avenant,  Endymion  Porter,  Mr.  Hales  of  Eaton,  and  Ben 
Johnson,  Sir  John  Suckling,  who  was  a  profess'd  admirer  of 
Shakespear,  had  undertaken  his  Defence  against  Ben.  Johnson 
with  some  warmth;  Mr.  Hales,  who  had  sat  still  for  some  time, 
hearing  Ben  frequently  reproaching  him  with  the  want  of  Learn 
ing,  and  Ignorance  of  the  Antients,  told  him  at  last,  'That  if 
Mr.  Shakespear  had  not  read  the  Antients,  he  had  likewise  not 
stollen  any  thing  from  'em ;  (a  fault  the  other  made  no  Con 
science  of)  and  that  if  he  would  produce  any  one  Topick  finely 
treated  by  any  of  them,  he  would  undertake  to  shew  something 
upon  the  same  Subject  at  least  as  well  written  by  Shakespear.' 

[Recorded  by  Nicholas  Rowe,  in  his  Life  of  Shakespeare,  prefixed  to 
his  edition  of  Shakespeare,  1709,  i,  xiv.  Charles  Gildon,  without 
mentioning  Jonson,  records  the  tradition  with  fuller  details,  in  his 
Miscellaneous  Letters  and  Essays,  1694.  John  Dryden  also  alludes 
to  it  in  his  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy,  1668,  as  does  Nahum  Tate  in 
the  Dedication  prefixed  to  his  Loyal  General,  1680.  As  for  Hales, 
see  P.  Des  Maizeaux,  Life  of  the  Ever-memorable  Mr.  John  Hales, 
1719.] 

George  Chapman,  before  1634. 

Epicure' s  Frugality. 
Frugality  is  no  philosophy 
That  is  not  gelt  of  pride  and  misery, 
That  hang  him  like  a  nasty  boar  behind, 
And  grunt  him  out  of  all  the  human  kind; 
That  dares  assume  to  free  a  man  of  God, 
Without  whom  he's  a  rogue  past  period, 
A  spawn  of  lust,  in  sack  and  Jonson  sod. 

[The  Works  of  George  Chapman:  Poems  and  Minor  Translations,  ed. 
A.  C.  Swinburne,  1875,  p.  434.] 


1 88  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1634. 

1633-4,  January  14.  The  Tale  of  the  Tub  was  acted  on  tusday 
night  at  Court,  the  14  Janua.  1633,  by  the  Queenes  players, 
and  not  likte. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  54.] 

London  City  Records,  1634. 

Jovis  xviii  die  septembris  1634  Annogue  R  Rs  Caroli  Angliae 
etc.,  decimo. 

Item :  this  day  Mr.  Recorder  and  Sir  James  Hamersley  Knight 
and  Alderman  declared  unto  this  Court  His  Majesty's  pleasure 
signified  unto  them  by  the  right  honorable  the  Earle  of  Dorsett 
for  and  in  the  behalfe  of  Beniamine  Johnson  the  Cittyes  Chro- 
nologer,  Whereupon  it  is  ordered  by  this  Court  that  his  yearely 
pencion  of  one  hundred  nobles  out  of  the  Chamber  of  London 
shalbe  continued  and  that  Mr.  Chamberlen  shall  satisfie  and 
pay  unto  him  his  arrerages  thereof. 

[Extract  from  the  City  Records,  Rep.  No.  46,  fol.  443.] 

Leonard  Digges,  before  1635. 

Upon  Master  William  Shakespeare,  the  Deceased  Author,  and  his 

Poems. 

Poets  are  borne  not  made,  when  I  would  prove 
This  truth,  the  glad  rememberance  I  must  love 
Of  never  dying  Shakespeare,  who  alone, 
Is  argument  enough  to  make  that  one. 
First,  that  he  was  a  Poet  none  would  doubt, 
That  heard  th 'applause  .  .  . 
So  have  I  seen,  when  Cesar  would  appeare, 
And  on  the  Stage  at  halfe-sword  parley  were, 
Brutus  and  Cassius:  oh  how  the  Audience 
Were  ravish'd,  with  what  wonder  they  went  thence, 
When  some  new  day  they  would  not  brooke  a  line, 
Of  tedious  (though  well  laboured)  Catiline; 
Sejanus  too  was  irkesome,  they  priz'de  more 
Honest  lago,  or  the  jealous  Moore. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  189 

And  though  the  Fox  and  subtill  Alchimist, 

Long  intermitted  could  not  quite  be  mist, 

Though  these  have  sham'd  all  the  Ancients,  and  might  raise, 

Their  Authours  merit  with  a  crowne  of  Bayes. 

Yet  these  sometimes,  even  at  a  friends  desire 

Acted,  have  scarce  defrai'd  the  Seacoale  fire 

And  doore-keepers :  when  let  but  Falstaffe  come, 

Hall,  Poines,  the  rest  you  scarce  shall  have  a  roome 

All  is  so  pester'd :  let  but  Beatrice 

And  Benedicke  be  scene,  loe  in  a  trice 

The  Cockpit,  Galleries,  Boxes,  all  are  full 

To  hear  MalvogUo,  that  crosse  garter'd  Gull.  .  .  . 

[Printed  in  Poems:    Written  by  Wil.  Shake- s pear e,  1640.     Digges  died 
in  1635.] 

Endymion  Porter,  before  1635. 

Upon  Ben  Jonson,  and  his  Zany,  Tom  Randolph. 
Quoth  Ben  to  Tom,  the  Lover's  stole, 

'Tis  Shakspeare's  every  word ; 
Indeed,  says  Tom,  upon  the  whole, 

'Tis  much  too  good  for  Ford. 

Thus  Ben  and  Tom,  the  dead  still  praise, 

The  living  to  decry; 
For  none  must  dare  to  wear  the  bays, 

Till  Ben  and  Tom  both  die. 

Even  Avon's  swan  could  not  escape 

These  letter- tyrant  elves ; 
They  on  his  fame  contriv'd  a  rape, 

To  raise  their  pedant  selves. 

But  after  times  with  full  consent 

This  truth  will  all  acknowledge, — 
Shakspeare  and  Ford  from  heaven  were  sent, 

But  Ben  and  Tom  from  college. 

[From  Boswell's  Variorum  ed.  of  Shakespeare,  1821,  i,  405.     Cf.  the 
entry  "Thomas  May,  1629."] 


190  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  about  1635. 

Hax[ter].  I  have,  indeed,  puissant  sir,  been  in  my  time  rallied 
amongst  those  blades;  but  it  has  been  my  scorn  of  late  to  engage 
my  tuck  upon  unjust  grounds. 

Tim[ori\.  Tucca,  thy  valour  is  infinitely  beholden  to  thy 
discretion. 

[Lady  Alimony,  I,  iii,  in  Hazlitt's  ed.  of  Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays> 
1874,  xiv,  284.  Tucca,  created  by  Jonson  in  Poetaster,  appears 
also  in  Dekker's  Satiromastix.] 

James  Ho  well,  1635. 

To  my  Honoured  Friend  and  Fa[ther],  Mr.  Ben.  Johnson. 
Fa.  Ben, 

...  I  thank  you  for  the  last  reglo  you  gave  me  at  your 
musaeum,  and  for  the  good  company.  I  heard  you  censur'd 
lately  at  Court,  that  you  have  lighted  too  foul  upon  Sir  Inigo, 
and  that  you  write  with  a  Porcupine's  quill  dipt  in  too  much 
gall.  Excuse  me  that  I  am  so  free  with  you;  it  is  because  I  am, 
in  no  common  way  of  Friendship — •  Yours, 

J.  H. 

Westm.,  j  of  May  1635. 

[EpistolcB  Ho-EliancB,  ed.  J.  Jacobs,  1892,  pp.  322-24.] 

James  Ho  well  f  1635. 
To  Mr.  B.  J. 

F.  B.  The  Fangs  of  a  Bear,  and  the  Tusks  of  a  wild  Boar, 
do  not  bite  worse,  and  make  deeper  gashes,  than  a  Goose-quill, 
sometimes;  no,  not  the  Badger  himself,  who  is  said  to  be  so 
tenacious  of  his  bite,  tha*t  he  will  not  give  over  his  hold  till  he 
feels  his  Teeth  meet  and  the  Bone  crack.  Your  quill  hath 
prov'd  so  to  Mr.  Jones ;  but  the  Pen  wherewith  you  have  so 
gash'd  him,  it  seems,  was  made  rather  of  a  Porcupine  than  a 
Goose-quill,  it  is  so  keen  and  firm.  You  know,  Anser,  Apis, 
Vitulus,  Populos  &  Regna  gubernant. 

The  Goose,  the  Bee,  and  the  Calf  (meaning  Wax,  Parchment, 
and  the  Pen)  rule  the  World;  but,  of  the  three,  the  Pen  is  the 
most  predominant.  I  know  you  have  a  commanding  one,  but 


TO  BEN  JONSON  191 

you  must  not  let  it  tyrannize  in  that  manner,  as  you  have  done 
lately.  Some  give  out  there  was  a  hair  in  't,  or  that  your  Ink 
was  too  thick  with  Gall,  else  it  would  not  have  so  bespatter'd 
and  shaken  the  Reputation  of  a  Royal  Architect;  for  Reputation, 
you  know,  is  like  a  fair  Structure,  long  time  a  rearing,  but 
quickly  ruin'd.  If  your  spirit  will  not  let  you  retract,  yet  you 
shall  do  well  to  repress  any  more  Copies  of  the  Satire;  for,  to 
deal  plainly  with  you,  you  have  lost  some  ground  at  Court  by  it; 
and,  as  I  hear  from  a  good  hand,  the  King,  who  hath  so  great  a 
Judgment  in  Poetry  (as  in  all  other  things  else),  is  not  well 
pleas'd  therewith.  Dispense  with  this  freedom  of — Your  respect 
ful  S.  and  Servitor, 

J.  H. 
Westm.,  3  July  1635. 

[Epistolcs  Ho-ElianfE.  ed.  J.  Jacobs,  1892,  p.  376.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1635. 

Master  Stansby. 

4°.  Julij  1635. 

Entred  for  his  Copies  by  vertue  of  a  noate  under  the 
hand  of  Walter  Burre  and  master  Mathew  Lownes 
warden  bearing  date  the  ioth  of  June  1621  as  thereby 
appeareth  these  Copies  following  (viz1.}  by  order  of  a 
Court "j8.  vjd 

Every  Man  in  his  humor 

Cinthias  Reuells 

Seianus 

The /ox 

The  Silent  Woman 

The  Alchimist 

Catalyne 
[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  342.] 

Title-page,  1635. 

Cataline  his  Conspiracy.  Written  by  Ben:  lonson.  And  now 
Acted  by  his  Maiesties  Servants  with  great  Applause.  .  .  . 
London.  Printed  by  N.  Okes,  for  I.  S.,  .  .  .  1635. 


IQ2  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thomas  Heywood,  1635. 
Our  moderne  Poets  to  that  passe  are  driven, 
Those  names  are  curtal'd  which  they  first  had  given; 
And,  as  we  wisht  to  have  their  memories  drown 'd, 
We  scarcely  can  afford  them  halfe  their  sound. 
Greene,  who  had  in  both  Academies  ta'ne 
Degree  of  Master,  yet  could  never  gaine 
To  be  call'd  more  than  Robin:  who  had  he 
Profest  ought  save  the  Muse,  Serv'd,  and  been  Free 
After  a  seven  yeares  Prentiseship;  might  have 
(With  credit  too)  gone  Robert  to  his  grave. 
Mario,  renown'd  for  his  rare  art  and  wit, 
Could  ne're  attaine  beyond  the  name  of  Kit; 
Although  his  Hero  and  Leander  did 
Merit  addition  rather.     Famous  Kid 
Was  called  but  Tom.     Tom  Watson,  though  he  wrote 
Able  to  make  Apollo's  selfe  to  dote 
Upon  his  Muse;  for  all  that  he  could  strive, 
Yet  never  could  to  his  full  name  arrive. 
Tom  Nash  (in  his  time  of  no  small  esteeme) 
Could  not  a  second  syllable  redeeme. 
Excellent  Bewmont,  in  the  formost  ranke 
Of  the  rar'st  Wits,  was  never  more  than  Franck. 
Mellifluous  Shake-speare,  whose  inchanting  Quill 
Commanded  Mirth  or  Passion,  was  but  Will. 
And  famous  Johnson,  though  his  learned  Pen 
Be  dipt  in  Castaly,  is  still  but  Ben. 
Fletcher  and  Webster,  of  that  learned  packe 
None  of  the  mean'st,  yet  neither  was  but  Jacke. 
Deckers  but  Tom;  nor  May,  nor  Middleton. 
And  hee's  now  but  Jacke  Foord,  that  once  were  John. 
[The  Hierarchic  of  the  Blessed  Angells,  1634,  P-  2o6-l 

Exchequer  Accounts,  1635. 

Account  of  receipts  and  payments  of  the  Exchequer  from  23rd 
October  to  this  day.  *  *  *  and  among  fees, —  *  *  *  "  Ben 
jamin  Johnson"  25  L. 

{Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  Charles  I,  vol.  ccci,  no.  29,  Novem 
ber  6,  1635.} 


TO  BEN  JONSON  193 

Title-page,  1636. 

Annalia  Dubrensia,  Upon  the  yeerely  celebration  of  Mr. 
Robert  Dovers  Olimpick  Games  upon  Cotswold-Hills.  Written 
by  Michael  Drayton,  Esq.,  John  Trussell,  Gent.,  William  Dur 
ham,  Oxon.,  William  Denny,  Esq.,  Thomas  Randall,  Gent., 
Ben:  lohnson.  .  .  .  [Thirty- two  authors  are  mentioned].  Lon 
don.  Printed  by  Robert  Raworth,  for  Mathewe  Walbancke. 
1636. 

Thomas  Heywood,  1636. 

But  when  Ben:  lohnson,  and  brave  Draytons  name 

Shall  be  Inscrib'd;  I  dare  proclaime  the  same 

To  be  a  worke  ennobled :  For  who  dare 

With  them  (and  these  here  intermixt)  compare. 

["A  Panegerick  to  the  worthy  Mr.  Robert  Dover,"  in  Annalia  Dubren 
sia,  1636,  sig.  K.] 

Francis  Izod,  1636. 

ACHILLES!  happy  thrice,  in  his  thrice  happy  Acts, 
More  happy  farr,  in  that  those  much  renown 'd  Facts 
Of  his  stand  on  record;  imortalized  still, 
By  sacred  accent  of  that  sweet  Meonian  quill ; 
Great  Alexander  reades,  and  is  with  envie  blowne, 
That  such  another  was  not  left  to  blaze  his  owne. 
Ben:  lohnsons  sullen  Muse  (brave  Dover}  much  envies 
To  vie  thy  sports,  with  that  Olimpicke  Exercise: 

["To  his  Noble  Friend  Mr.   Robert  Dover,"  in  Annalia  Dubrensia, 
1636,  sig.  D4.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1636. 

1635-6,  February  18.  The  Silent  Woman  playd  at  Court  of 
St.  James  on  thursday  ye  18  Febr.  1635. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  55.] 

Actors'  Bill  for  Plays  at  Court,  1636. 

Playes  acted  before  the  Kinge  and  Queene  this  present  yeare  of 
the  Lord  1636. 

1.  Easter  munday  at  the  Cockpitt  the  firste  parte  of  Arviragus. 

2.  Easter  tuesday  at  the  Cockpitt  the  second  parte  of  Arviragus. 


194  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

3.  The  4th  of  Aprill  at  the  Cockpitt  the  Silent  Woman.  .  .  . 

[From  a  bill  presented  by  the  King's  Company  for  plays  acted  before 
the  King  and  Queen  in  1636.  Twenty-two  plays  in  all  were 
acted,  only  one  of  which  was  by  Jonson.  See  The  Dramatic 
Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  75.] 

James  Howell,  1636. 

To  Sir  Tho.  Hawk,  Knight. 
Sir, 

I  was  invited  yesternight  to  a  solemn  Supper,  by  B.  /., 
where  you  were  deeply  remember'd;  there  was  good  company, 
excellent  cheer,  choice  wines,  and  jovial  welcome:  One  thing 
intervened,  which  almost  spoil'd  the  relish  of  the  rest,  that  B. 
began  to  engross  all  the  discourse,  to  vapour  extremely  of  himself, 
and,  by  vilifying  others,  to  magnify  his  own  Muse.  T.  Ca. 
buzz'd  me  in  the  ear,  that  tho'  Ben.  had  barrell'd  up  a  great  deal 
of  knowledge,  yet  it  seems  he  had  not  read  the  Ethiques,  which, 
among  other  precepts  of  Morality,  forbid  self-commendation, 
declaring  it  to  be  an  ill-favour'd  solecism  in  good  manners.  .  .  . 
But  for  my  part,  I  am  content  to  dispense  with  the  Roman 
infirmity  of  B.  now  that  time  hath  snowed  upon  his  pericranium. 
You  know  Ovid,  and  (your)  Horace  were  subject  to  this  humour, 
...  as  also  Cicero.  .  .  .  There  is  another  reason  that  excuseth 
B.,  which  is,  that  if  one  be  allowed  to  love  the  natural  issue  of 
his  Body,  why  not  that  of  the  Brain,  which  is  of  a  spiritual  and 
more  noble  extraction?  ...  I  am,  Sir — Your  very  humble  and 
most  faithful  Servitor, 

J.  H. 
Westm.,  5  Apr.  1636. 

[Epistola  Ho-Eliance,  ed.  J.  Jacobs,  1892,  p.  403.] 

Philip  Massinger,  before  1637. 

The  Copie  of  a  Letter  written  upon  occasion  to  the  Earle  of  Pembroke 

Lo:  Chamberlaine. 
My  Lord, 

...  I  know 
That  lohnson  much  of  what  he  has  does  owe 


TO  BEN  JONSON  195 

To  you  and  to  your  familie,  and  is  never  slow 
To  professe  it.   .  .  . 

[MS.  G.  2.  21  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  pp.  554-59,  reproduced  in 
The  Athenaum,  September  8,  1906,  p.  273.  In  the  Dublin  MS. 
the  poem  is  attributed  to  Massinger;  but  in  the  Gifford-Cunning- 
ham  edition  of  Jonson,  I,  lix,  this  letter  is  said  to  have  been  written 
by  Eliot  and  addressed  to  the  Earl  of  Montgomery;  it  is  quoted 
from  his  "Poems,  p.  108."] 

Anonymous,  before  1637. 

An  Elegie  on  the  death  of  that  famous  Writer  and  Actor,  M.  William 

Shakspeare. 

I  dare  not  doe  thy  Memory  that  wrong, 
Unto  our  larger  griefes  to  give  a  tongue; 
He  onely  sigh  in  earnest,  and  let  fall 
My  solemne  teares  at  thy  great  Funerall; 
For  every  eye  that  raines  a  showre  for  thee, 
Laments  thy  losse  in  a  sad  Elegie. 
Nor  is  it  fit  each  humble  Muse  should  have, 
Thy  worth  his  subject,  now  th'art  laid  in  grave; 
No  its  a  flight  beyond  the  pitch  of  those, 
Whose  worthies  Pamphlets  are  not  sence  in  Prose. 
Let  learned  Johnson  sing  a  Dirge  for  thee, 
And  fill  our  Orbe  with  mournefull  harmony: 
But  we  neede  no  Remembrancer,  thy  Fame 
Shall  still  accompany  thy  honoured  Name, 
To  all  posterity;  and  make  us  be, 
Sensible  of  what  we  lost  in  losing  thee: 
Being  the  Ages  wonder  whose  smooth  Rhimes 
Did  more  reforme  than  lash  the  looser  Times.  .  .  . 

[Appended  to  Poems:  Written  by  Wil.  Shake-speare,  1640.  Certain 
echoes  of  Jonson's  verses  to  Shakespeare  in  the  Folio  of  1623  are 
obvious.] 

Tradition,  before  1637. 

One  day,  being  rallied  by  the  Dean  of  Westminster  about 
being  buried  in  the  Poets'  Corner,  the  poet  is  said  to  have  replied 
(we  tell  the  story  as  current  in  the  Abbey) :  "I  am  too  poor  for 
that,  and  no  one  will  lay  out  funeral  charges  upon  me.  No,  sir, 


196  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

6  feet  long  by  2  feet  wide  is  too  much  for  me :  2  feet  by  2  feet 
will  do  for  all  I  want."  "You  shall  have  it,"  said  the  Dean, 
and  thus  the  conversation  ended. 

[Peter  Cunningham,  Handbook  of  London.  For  a  discussion  of  this 
eccentric  request,  and  the  citation  of  evidence  to  show  that  Jonson, 
in  accordance  with  his  request,  was  buried  in  an  upright  position, 
see  Joseph  Q.  Adams,  The  Bones  of  Ben  Jonson,  in  Studies  in  Phi 
lology,  xvi,  289.] 

Sir  John  Suckling,  about  1637. 

A  Session  of  the  Poets. 
A  session  was  held  the  other  day, 
And  Apollo  himself  was  at  it,  they  say, 
The  laurel  that  had  been  so  long  reserv'd, 
Was  now  to  be  given  to  him  best  deserv'd. 

And 

Therefore  the  wits  of  the  town  came  thither, 
'Twas  strange  to  see  how  they  flocked  together, 
Each  strongly  confident  of  his  own  way, 
Thought  to  gain  the  laurel  away  that  day. 

The  first  that  broke  silence  was  good  old  Ben, 
Prepared  before  with  canary  wine, 
And  he  told  them  plainly  he  deserved  the  bays, 
For  his  were  called  works,  where  others  were  but  plays. 

And 

Bid  them  remember  how  he  had  purg'd  the  stage 
Of  errors,  that  had  lasted  many  an  age, 
And  he  hoped  they  did  not  think  the  Silent  Woman, 
The  Fox  and  the  Alchemist,  outdone  by  no  man. 

Apollo  stopt  him  there,  and  bade  him  not  go  on, 
'Twas  merit,  he  said,  and  not  presumption 
Must  carry  't,  at  which  Ben  turned  about, 
And  in  great  choler  offer'd  to  go  out : 

But 

Those  that  were  there  thought  it  not  fit 
To  discontent  so  ancient  a  wit; 
And  therefore  Apollo  call'd  him  back  again, 
And  made  him  mine  host  of  his  own  New  Inn. 
[Fragmenta  Aurea,  1646.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  !97 

Anonymous,  about  1637. 

A  Letter  to  Ben.  Johnson. 
Die  Johnson,  crosse  not  our  Religion  so 
As  to  be  thought  immortall ;  let  us  know 
Thou  art  no  God;  thy  works  make  us  mistake 
Thy  person,  and  thy  great  creations  make 
Us  Idoll  thee,  and  cause  we  see  thee  do 
Eternall  things,  think  thee  eternall  too, 
Restore  us  to  our  faith  and  dye,  thy  doome 
Will  do  as  much  good  as  the  fall  of  Rome: 
Twill  crush  an  heresie,  we  ne're  must  hope 
For  truth  till  thou  be  gon,  thou  and  the  Pope. 
And  though  we  may  be  certaine  in  thy  fall 
To  lose  both  wit  and  judgement,  braines  and  all, 
Thou  Sack,  nor  Love,  nor  Time  recover  us, 
Better  be  fooles  than  superstitious. 
Dye!  to  what  end  should  we  thee  now  adore, 
There  is  not  Scholarship  to  live  to  more, 
Our  language  is  refin'd:  professors  doubt 
Their  Greek  and  Hebrew  both  shall  be  put  out 
And  we  tfiat  Latin  studied  have  so  long 
Shall  now  dispute  and  write  in  Johnsons  tongue, 
Nay,  courtiers  yeeld,  and  every  beautious  wench 
Had  rather  speak  thy  English  then  her  French. 
But  for  thy  matter  fancy  stands  agast 
Wondering  to  see  her  strength  thus  best  at  last. 
Invention  stops  her  course  and  bids  the  world 
Look  for  no  more ;  she  hath  already  hurld 
Her  treasure  all  on  one,  thou  hast  out-done 
So  much  our  wit  and  expectation, 
That  we're  it  not  for  thee,  we  scarse  had  known 
Nature  her  selfe  could  ere  so  farre  .have  gon. 
Dye!  seemes  it  not  enough  thy  verse's  date 
Is  endlesse;  but  thine  own  prolonged  fate 
Must  equall  it;  for  shame  engross  not  age 
But  now  (the  fi[f]th  Act  ended)  leave  the  stage. 
And  let  us  clap,  we  know  the  Stars  that  do 
Give  others  one  life,  give  a  laureat  two. 


198  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

But  thou,  if  thus  thy  body  long  survives, 

Hast  two  eternities,  and  not  two  lives. 

Die  for  thine  own  sake,  seest  thou  not  thy  praise 

Is  shortned  onely  by  this  length  of  daies. 

Men  may  talk  this,  and  that,  to  part  the  strife, 

My  tenet  is,  thou  hast  no  fault  but  life. 

Old  Authors  do  speed  best,  me-thinks  thy  warm  breath 

Casts  a  thick  mist  betwixt  thy  worth,  which  death 

Would  quickly  dissipate.     If  thou  wouldst  have 

Thy  Bayes  to  flourish,  plant  them  on  thy  grave. 

Gold  now  is  drosse,  and  Oracles  are  stuffe 

With  us,  for  why?     Thou  art  not  low  enough. 

We  still  look  under  thee.     Stoop,  and  submit 

Thy  glory  to  the  meanest  of  our  wit. 

The  Rhodian  Colossus,  ere  it  fell, 

Could  not  be  scan'd  and  measured,  half  so  well. 

Lie  levell  to  our  view,  so  shall  we  see, 

Our  third  and  richest  University. 

Art's  length,  Art's  heighth,  Art's  depth,  can  ne're  be  found, 

Till  thou  art  prostrate,  stretch'd  upon  the  ground. 

Learning  no  farther  then  thy  life  extends, 

With  thee  began  all  Arts,  with  thee  it  ends. 

[Wit  Restored  In  Severall  Select  Poems  Not  formerly  publish' t,  1658, 
pp.  79-Si.] 

Benjamin  Wright,  1637. 

Letter  to  Endymion  Porter,  May  2,  1637. 

2  May  1637.  My  service  to  Mr.  Hobbes.  Pray  tell  him  Mr. 
Warner  would  make  us  believe  miracles  by  a  glass  he  can  make. 
I  doubt  he  will  prove  Ben's  Doctor  Subtle. 

[From  the  Cavendish  Papers;  in  the  Thirteenth  Report  of  the  Royal 
Commission  on  Historical  Manuscripts,  1892,  ii,  131.  The  allusion 
is  to  a  character  in  The  Alchemist.] 

Sir  Edward  Walker,  1637. 

Anno  1637. — Thursday,  17  August. — Died  at  Westminster 
Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  the  most  famous,  accurate,  and  learned 
poet  of  our  age,  especially  in  the  English  tongue,  having  left 


TO  BEN  JONSON  199 

behind  him  many  rare  pieces  which  have  sufficiently  demon 
strated  to  the  world  his  worth.  He  was  buried  the  next  day 
following,  being  accompanied  to  his  grave  with  all  or  the  greatest 
part  of  the  nobilitye  and  gentrie  then  in  the  towne. 

[Notes  from  a  MS.  of  Sir  Edward  Walker,  Kt.  Garter,  in  his  own  hand, 
Notes  and  Queries,  1st  S.,  October  30,  1852,  p.  405.  Jonson  died 
on  August  6,  Old  Style;  Walker  is  presumably  using  the  new  style.] 

Act  Book,  1637. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  of  his  identity  with  the  'Beniaminus 
Johnson,  nuper  civitatis  Westmonasterii,'  administration  of 
whose  goods — of  the  value  of  eight  pounds  eight  shillings  and 
tenpence — was  granted  on  22  August,  1637,  to  William  Scandret, 
'uni  Creditorum.' 

[Entry  relating  to  Ben  Jonson,  in  Act  Book,  1637,  folio  53,  in  the  Com 
missary  Court  of  Westminster,  Notes  and  Queries,  loth  S.,  February 
18,  1905,  p.  125.] 

King  Charles  I,  1637. 

Letter  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  London,  August  (?) ,  1637. 
We  understand  that  the  place  of  historian  to  the  city  of  London 
is  become  void  by  the  death  of  "Benjamin  Johnson."  We 
recommend  Thomas  May,  whom  we  know  to  be  every  way 
qualified  for  that  employment,  expecting  that  you  forthwith 
choose  him  to  the  said  place. 

{Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  Charles  I,  vol.  ccclxvi,  no.  66.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1637. 

Henry  Gosson 

9°.  Octobris  1637. 

Entred  for  his  Copie  under  the  hands  of  master  Baker 
and  Master  Aspley  warden  a  Booke  called  an  Eligie 
upon  the  Death  of  Beniamin  Johnson  Poett.  by  John 

Taylor vjd 

[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  394.] 

Thomas  Willford,  1637? 

An  Epitaph  upon  the  most  learned  Comedian  and  Modern  Poet, 
Beniamin  Johnson,  who  lejt  the  Church  and  died  Ano  Dom'i 
MDCXXX[VII]. 


200  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Here  Johnson  lies,  who  spent  his  days, 

In  making  sport,  and  comicke  plays: 

His  life  a  Play,  perform'd  the  worst, 

The  last  Act  did  disgrace  the  first, 

His  part  he  plaid,  exceeding  well, 

A  Catholike,  untill  he  fell 

To  Sects  and  Schismes,  which  he  did  chuse, 

Like  to  a  fiction  of  his  Muse. 

He  staid  there  till  the  Scene  was  past, 

Without  a  Plaudit  given  at  last : 

So  ill  he  plaid,  the  later  part, 

The  Epilogue  did  breake  his  heart. 

When  Death  his  bodie  did  surprise, 

The  Fatall  Sisters  clos'd  his  eyes, 

And  took  him  to  his  tyring  roome; 

Where  I  will  leave  him  to  his  doome; 

But  wish  that  I  could  justly  raise, 

Memorialls  of  eternall  praise. 

But  Ben,  from  whence  thy  mischiefe  grew, 

I  mourne,  but  must  not  say,  Adue. 

[Add.  MS.  5541,  a  volume  of  verses,  Hyemall  Pastimes,  by  Thomas 
Willford;   reproduced  in  The  Athenceum,  March  20,  1915,  p.  272.] 

Mildmay  Fane,  Earl  of  Westmorland,  1637. 

In  Obitum  Ben  Johns.  Poetce  eximii. 

He  who  began  from  Brick  and  Lime 

The  Muses  Hill  to  climbe; 
And  whilom  busied  in  laying  Ston, 

Thirsted  to  drink  of  Helicon; 

Changing  His  Trowell  foi  a  Pen, 
Wrote  straight  the  Temper  not  of  Dirt  but  Men. 

Now  sithence  that  He  is  turn'd  to  Clay,  and  gone 

Let  Those  remain  of  th'occupation 
He  honor'd  once,  square  Him  a  Tomb  may  say 
His  Craft  exceeded  farr  a  Dawbers  way. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  2OI 

Then  write  upon't,  He  could  no  longer  tarry, 
But  was  return'd  again  unto  the  Quarry. 

[Poems  of  Mildmay,  in  A.  B.  Grosart's  Unique  or  Very  Rare  Books, 
1879,  x»  J69.  At  the  Anderson  Galleries  in  New  York  was  sold 
on  April  29,  1920,  Mildmay's  own  copy  of  Jonson's  Workes,  1616, 
with  this  poem  written  on  the  inside  cover.] 

Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  1637. 

To  Doctor  Duppa,  the  Dean  of  Chiistchurch,  and  the  Prince's  Tutor. 
SIR, 

I  UNDERSTAND,  with  much  gladness,  you  have  been  careful  to 
gather  what  has  been  written  upon  Mr.  Johnson  since  his  death. 
It  is  an  office  well  beseeming  that  excellent  piety  that  all  men 
know  you  by;  yet  were  but  half  performed  if  you  should  let  it 
rest  here.  As  your  own  tenderness  towards  that  worthy  man 
hath  made  you  seek  to  bathe  yourself  in  his  friends'  tears,  so 
your  humanity  towards  the  public,  which  good  men  rejoice  to 
see  you  in  the  way  so  much  to  advance,  ought  not  to  be  satisfied 
until  you  have  given  it  a  propriety  in  these  collections.  Besides, 
I  believe,  if  care  of  earthly  things  touch  souls  happily  departed, 
that  these  compositions  delivered  to  the  world  by  your  hand, 
will  be  more  grateful  obsequies  to  his  great  ghost,  than  any  other 
that  could  have  been  performed  at  his  tomb;  for  no  Court's 
decree  can  better  establish  a  lawful  claimer  in  the  secure  posses 
sion  of  his  right,  than  this  will  him  of  his  laurel,  which,  when  he 
lived,  he  wore  so  high  above  all  men's  reach,  as  none  could  touch, 
much  less  shake  from  off  his  reverend  head.  I  am  writing,  by 
this  private  incitement  of  you  unto  so  just  a  work,  to  witness  in  a 
particular  manner  to  yourself,  who  loved  him  dearly,  the  great 
value  and  esteem  I  have  of  this  brave  man ;  the  honour  of  his 
age;  and  he  that  set  a  period  to  the  perfection  of  our  language: 
and  will,  as  soon  as  I  can  do  the  like  to  the  world,  by  making 
it  share  with  me  in  those  excellent  pieces,  alas  that  many  of  them 
are  but  pieces!  which  he  hath  left  behind  him,  and  that  I  keep 
religiously  by  me  to  that  end.  I  promise  myself  that  your 
goodness  and  friendliness  to  me  will  pardon  me  for  that  awhile 
diverting  your  thoughts,  that  are  continually  busied  about  what 
is  of  great  consequence,  knowing  me  to  be, 


202  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Your  most  affectionate  and  humble  servant. 

[Harl.  MS.  4153,  f.  21,  reproduced   in  Private  Memoirs   of  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby,  1827,  pp.  liii-iv.] 

James  Ho  well,  1638. 

To  Dr<  Duppa,  L.  B.  oj  Chichester,  His  Highnesses  Tutor  at  St. 

James. 
My  Lord, 

It  is  a  well-becoming  and  very  worthy  work  you  are  about, 
not  to  suffer  Mr.  Ben.  Johnson  to  go  so  silently  to  his  grave,  or 
rot  so  suddenly:  Being  newly  come  to  Town,  and  understanding 
that  your  Johnsonus  Virbius  was  in  the  Press,  upon  the  solicita 
tion  of  Sir  Thomas  Hawkins,  I  suddenly  fell  upon  the  ensuing 
Decastic,  which  if  your  Lordship  please,  may  have  room  among 
the  rest. 

Upon  my  honoured  Friend  and  F.,  Mr.  Ben.  lohnson. 

, 

And  is  thy  Glass  run  out,  is  that  oil  spent 
Which  light  to  such  strong  sinewy  Labours  lent? 
Well  Ben,  I  now  perceive  that  all  the  Nine, 
Tho'  they  their  utmost  forces  should  combine, 
Cannot  prevail  'gainst  Night's  three  daughters,  but 
One  still  must  spin,  one  wind,  the  other  cut. 
Yet  in  despite  of  distaff,  clue,  and  knife, 
Thou  in  thy  strenuous  Lines  hast  got  a  Light, 
Which  like  thy  Bays  shall  flourish  ev'ry  age, 
While  sock  or  buskin  shall  attend  the  stage. 

—  Sic  vaticinatur  Hoellus. 

So  I  rest,  with  many  devoted  respects  to  your  Lordship,  as 
being — Your  very  humble  Servitor, 

J.  H. 

Lond.,  i  of  May  1636  [1638]. 

[Epistola  Ho-Eliance,  ed.  J.  Jacobs,  1892,  p.  332.] 

Title-page,  1638. 

lonsonus  Virbius:  or  the  Memorie  of  Ben:  Johnson  Revived 
by  the  Friends  of  the  Muses.  London,  printed  by  E.  P.  for 
Henry  Seile.  1638. 


TO  BENJONSON  203 

E.  P.,  1638. 

The  Printer  to  the  Reader. 

It  is  now  about  six  months  since  the  most  learned  and  judicious 
poet,  B.  Jonson,  became  a  subject  for  these  Elegies.  The  time 
interjected  between  his  death  and  the  publishing  of  these,  shows 
that  so'great  an  argument  ought  to  be  considered,  before  handled; 
not  that  the  gentlemen's  affections  were  less  ready  to  grieve, 
but  their  judgments  to  write.  At  length  the  loose  papers  were 
consigned  to  the  hands  of  a  gentleman  [Dr.  Bryan  Duppa, 
Bishop  of  Winchester],  who  truly  honored  him  (for  he  knew 
why  he  did  so).  To  his  care  you  are  beholding  that  they  are 
now  made  yours.  And  he  was  willing  to  let  you  know  the  value 
of  what  you  have  lost,  that  you  might  the  better  recommend 
what  you  have  left  of  him,  to  your  posterity. 

Farewell, 

E.  P. 
[Prefixed  to  Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Lucius  Gary,  Viscount  Falkland,  1638. 

An  Eclogue  on  the  Death  of  Ben  Jonson,  between  Melibceus 
and  Hylas. 

Mel.  Hylas,  the  clear  day  boasts  a  glorious  sun, 
Our  troop  is  ready,  and  our  time  is  come: 
That  fox  who  hath  so  long  our  lambs  destroy 'd, 
And  daily  in  his  prosperous  rapine  joy'd, 
Is  earth'd  not  far  from  hence;  old  Agon's  son, 
Rough  Corilas,  and  lusty  Cory  don, 
In  part  the  sport,  in  part  revenge  desire, 
And  both  thy  tarrier  and  thy  aid  require. 
Haste,  for  by  this,  but  'that  for  thee  we  stay'd, 
The  prey-devourer  had  our  prey  been  made. 

Hyl.  Oh!   Melibseus,  now  I  list  not  hunt. 
Nor  have  that  vigor  as  before  I  wont; 
My  presence  will  afford  them  no  relief, 
That  beast  I  strive,  to  chase  is  only  grief. 

Mel.  What  mean  thy  folded  arms,  thy  downcast  eyes, 
Tears  which  so  fast  descend,  and  sighs  which  rise? 


204  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

What  mean  thy  words  which  so  distracted  fall 

As  all  thy  joys  had  now  one  funeral? 

Cause  for  such  grief,  can  our  retirements  yield? 

That  follows  courts,  but  stoops  not  to  the  field. 

Hath  thy  stern  step-dame  to  thy  sire  reveal'd 

Some  youthful  act,  which  thou  couldst  wish  conceal'd? 

Part  of  thy  herd  hath  some  close  thief  convey'd 

From  open  pastures  to  a  darker  shade? 

Part  of  thy  flock  hath  some  fierce  torrent  drown 'd? 

Thy  harvest  fail'd,  or  Amarillis  frown 'd? 

Hyl.  Nor  love  nor  anger,  accident  nor  thief, 
Hath  rais'd  the  waves  of  my  unbounded  grief  : 
To  cure  this  cause,  I  would  provoke  the  ire 
Of  my  fierce  step-dame  or  severer  sire, 
Give  all  my  herds,  fields,  flocks,  and  all  the  grace 
That  ever  shone  in  Amarillis'  face. 
Alas,  that  bard,  that  glorious  bard  is  dead, 
Who,  when  I  whilom  cities  visited, 
Hath  made  them  seem  but  hours,  which  were  full  days, 
Whilst  he  vouchsafed  me  his  harmonious  lays : 
And  when  he  lived,  I  thought  the  country  then 
A  torture,  and  no  mansion,  but  a  den. 

Mel.  JONSON  you  mean,  unless  I  much  do  err, 
I  know  the  person  by  the  character. 

Hyl.  You  guess  aright,  it  is  too  truly  so, 
From  no  less  spring  could  all  these  rivers  flow. 

Mel.  Ah,  Hylas!  then  thy  grief  I  cannot  call 
A  passion,  when  the  ground  is  rational. 
I  now  excuse  thy  tears  and  sighs,  though  those  • 
To  deluges,  and  these  to  tempests  rose: 
Her  great  instructor  gone,  I  know  the  age 
No  less  laments  than  doth  the  widow'd  stage, 
And  only  vice  and  folly  now  are  glad, 
Our  gods  are  troubled,  and  our  prince  is  sad: 
He  chiefly  who  bestows  light,  health,  and  art, 
Feels  this  sharp  grief  pierce  his  immortal  heart, 
He  his  neglected  lyre  away  hath  thrown, 
And  wept  a  larger,  nobler  Helicon, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  205 

To  find  his  herbs,  which  to  his  wish  prevail, 
For  the  less  love  should  his  own  favorite  fail : 
So  moan'd  himself  when  Daphne  he  ador'd, 
That  arts  relieving  all,  should  fail  their  lord. 

Hyl.  But  say,  from  whence  in  thee  this  knowledge  springs, 
Of  what  his  favor  was  with  gods  and  kings. 

Mel.  Dorus,  who  long  had  known  books,  men,  and  towns, 
At  last  the  honor  of  our  woods  and  downs, 
Had  often  heard  his  songs,  was  often  fir'd 
With  their  enchanting  power,  ere  he  retir'd, 
And  ere  himself  to  our  still  groves  he  brought, 
To  meditate  on  what  his  muse  had  taught  : 
Here  all  his  joy  was  to  revolve  alone, 
All  that  her  music  to  his  soul  had  shown, 
Or  in  all  meetings  to  divert  the  stream 
Of  our  discourse;  and  make  his  friend  his  theme, 
And  praising  works  which  that  rare  loom  hath  weav'd, 
Impart  that  pleasure  which  he  had  receiv'd. 
So  in  sweet  notes  (which  did  all  tunes  excell, 
But  what  he  praised)  I  oft  have  heard  him  tell 
Of  his  rare  pen,  what  was  the  use  and  price, 
The  bays  of  virtue  and  the  scourge  of  vice : 
How  the  rich  ignorant  he  valued  least, 
Nor  for  the  trappings  would  esteem  the  beast ; 
But  did  our  youth  to  noble  actions  raise, 
Hoping  the  meed  of  his  immortal  praise : 
How  bright  and  soon  his  Muse's  morning  shone, 
Her  noon  how  lasting,  and  her  evening  none. 
How  speech  exceeds  not  dumbness,  nor  verse  rose, 
More  than  his  verse  the  low  rough  times  of  those, 
(For  such,  his  seen,  they  seem'd),  who  highest  rear'd, 
Possest  Parnassus  ere  his  power  appear'd. 
Nor  shall  another  pen  his  fame  dissolve, 
Till  we  this  doubtful  problem  can  resolve, 
Which  in  his  works  we  most  transcendant  see, 
Wit,  judgment,  learning,  art,  or  industry; 
Which  till  is  never,  so  all  jointly  flow, 
And  each  doth  to  an  equal  torrent  grow: 


206  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

His  learning  such,  no  author  old  nor  new, 

Escap'd  his  reading  that  deserved  his  view, 

And  such  his  judgment,  so  exact  his  test, 

Of  what  was  best  in  books,  as  what  books  best, 

That  had  he  join'd  those  notes  his  labors  took, 

From  each  most  prais'd  and  praise-deserving  book, 

And  could  the  world  of  that  choice  treasure  boast, 

It  need  not  care  though  all  the  rest  were  lost: 

And  such  his  wit,  he  writ  past  what  he  quotes, 

And  his  productions  far  exceed  his  notes. 

So  in  his  works  where  aught  inserted  grows, 

The  noblest  of  the  plants  engrafted  shows, 

That  his  adopted  children  equal  not, 

The  generous  issue  his  own  brain  begot : 

So  great  his  art,  that  much  which  he  did  write, 

Gave  the  wise  wonder,  and  the  crowd  delight, 

Each  sort  as  well  as  sex  admir'd  his  wit, 

The  he's  and  she's,  the  boxes  and  the  pit; 

And  who  less  lik'd  within,  did  rather  choose, 

To  tax  their  judgments  than  suspect  his  muse. 

How  no  spectator  his  chaste  stage  could  call 

The  cause  of  any  crime  of  his,  but  all 

With  thoughts  and  wills  purg'd  and  amended  rise, 

From  th'  ethic  lectures  of  his  comedies, 

Where  the  spectators  act,  and  the  sham'd  age 

Blusheth  to  meet  her  follies  on  the  stage; 

Where  each  man  finds  some  light  he  never  sought, 

And  leaves  behind  some  vanity  he  brought; 

Whose  politics  no  less  the  minds  direct, 

Than  these  the  manners,  nor  with  less  effect, 

When  his  Majestic  Tragedies  relate 

All  the  disorders  of  a  tottering  state, 

All  the  distempers  which  on  kingdoms  fall, 

When  ease,  and  wealth,  and  vice  are  general, 

And  yet  the  minds  against  all  fear  assure, 

And  telling  the  disease,  prescribe  the  cure: 

Where,  as  he  tells  what  subtle  ways,  what  friends, 

(Seeking  their  wicked  and  their  wish'd-for  ends) 


TO  BEN  JONSON  207 

Ambitious  and  luxurious  persons  prove, 

Whom  vast  desires,  or  mighty  wants  do  move, 

The  general  frame  to  sap  and  undermine, 

In  proud  Sejanus,  and  bold  Catiline; 

So  in  his  vigilant  Prince  and  Consul's  parts, 

He  shows  the  wiser  and  the  nobler  arts, 

By  which  a  state  may  be  unhurt,  upheld, 

And  all  those  works  destroyed,  which  hell  would  build. 

Who  (not  like  those  who  with  small  praise  had  writ, 

Had  they  not  call'd  in  judgment  to  their  wit) 

Us'd  not  a  tutoring  hand  his  to  direct, 

But  was  sole  workman  and  sole  architect. 

And  sure  by  what  my  friend  did  daily  tell, 

If  he  but  acted  his  own  part  as  well 

As  he  writ  those  of  others,  he  may  boast, 

The  happy  fields  hold  not  a  happier  ghost. 

Hyl.  Strangers  will  think  this  strange,  yet  he  (dear  youth) 
'Where  most  he  past  belief,  fell  short  of  truth. 
Say  on,  what  more  he  said,  this  gives  relief, 
And  though  it  raise  my  cause,  it  bates  my  grief, 
Since  fates  decreed  him  now  no  longer  liv'd, 
I  joy  to  hear  him  by  thy  friend  reviv'd. 

Mel.  More  he  would  say,  and  better,  (but  I  spoil 
His  smoother  words  with  my  unpolish'd  style) 
And  having  told  what  pitch  his  worth  attain'd, 
He  then  would  tell  us  what  reward  it  gain'd: 
How  in  an  ignorant,  and  learn 'd  age  he  sway'd, 
(Of  which  the  first  he  found,  the  second  made) 
How  he,  when  he  could  know  it,  reap'd  his  fame, 
And  long  out-liv'd  the  envy  of  his  name: 
To  him  how  daily  flock'd,  what  reverence  gave, 
All  that  had  wit,  or  would  be  thought  to  have, 
Or  hope  to  gain,  and  in  so  large  a  store, 
That  to  his  ashes  they  can  pay  no  more, 
Except  those  few  who  censuring,  thought  not  so, 
But  aim'd  at  glory  from  so  great  a  foe: 
How  the  wise  too,  did  with  mere  wits  agree, 


208  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

As  Pembroke,  Portland,  and  grave  Aubigny; 
Nor  thought  the  rigid 'st  senator  a  shame, 
To  contribute  to  so  deserv'd  a  fame: 
How  great   Eliza,   the  retreat  of  those 
Who,  weak  and  injur'd,  her  protection  chose, 
Her  subjects'  joy,  the  strength  of  her  allies, 
The  fear  and  wonder  of  her  enemies, 
With  her  judicious  favors  did  infuse 
Courage  and  strength  into  his  younger  muse. 
How  learned  James,  whose  praise  no  end  shall  find, 
(But  still  enjoy  a  fame  pure  like  his  mind) 
Who  favor'd  quiet,  and  the  arts  of  peace, 
(Which  in  his  halcyon  days  found  large  encrease) 
Friend  to  the  humblest  if  deserving  swain, 
Who  was  himself  a  part  of  Phoebus'  train, 
Declar'd  great  JONSON  worthiest  to  receive 
The  garland  which  the  Muses'  hands  did  weave 
And  though  his  bounty  did  sustain  his  days, 
Gave  a  more  welcome  pension  in  his  praise. 
How  mighty  Charles  amidst  that  weighty  care, 
In  which  three  kingdoms  as  their  blessing  share, 
Whom  as  it  tends  with  ever  watchful  eyes, 
That  neither  power  may  force,  nor  art  surprise, 
So  bounded  by  no  shore,  grasps  all  the  main, 
And  far  as  Neptune  claims,  extends  his  reign ; 
Found  still  some  time  to  hear  and  to  admire, 
The  happy  sounds  of  his  harmonious  lyre, 
And  oft  hath  left  his  bright  exalted  throne, 
And  to  his  Muse's  feet  combin'd  his  own; 
As  did  his  queen,  whose  person  so  disclos'd 
A  brighter  nymph  than  any  part  impos'd, 
When  she  did  join,  by  an  harmonious  choice, 
Her  graceful  motions  to  his  powerful  voice : 
How  above  all  the  rest  was  Phoebus  fired 
With  love  of  arts,  which  he  himself  inspired, 
Nor  oftener  by  his  light  our  sense  was  cheer'd, 
Than  he  in  person  to  his  sight  appear'd, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  209 

Nor  did  he  write  a  line  but  to  supply, 
With  sacred  flame  the  radiant  god  was  by. 

Hyl.  Though  none  I  ever  heard  this  last  rehearse, 
I  saw  as  much  when  I  did  see  his  verse. 

Mel.  Since  he,  when  living,  could  such  honors  have, 
What  now  will  piety  pay  to  his  grave? 
Shall  of  the  rich  (whose  lives  were  low  and  vile, 
And  scarce  deserv'd  a  grave,  much  less  a  pile) 
The  monuments  possess  an  ample  room, 
And  such  a  wonder  lie  without  a  tomb? 
Raise  thou  him  one  in  verse,  and  there  relate 
His  worth,  thy  grief,  and  our  deplored  state; 
His  great  perfections  our  great  loss  recite, 
And  let  them  merely  weep  who  cannot  write. 

Hyl.  I  like  thy  saying,  but  oppose  thy  choice; 
So  great  a  task  as  this  requires  a  voice 
Which  must  be  heard,  and  listened  to,  by  all, 
And  Fame's  own  trumpet  but  appears  too  small, 
Then  for  my  slender  reed  to  sound  his  name, 
Would  more  my  folly  than  his  praise  proclaim, 
And  when  you  wish  my  weakness,  sing  his  worth, 
You  charge  a  mouse  to  bring  a  mountain  forth. 
I  am  by  nature  form'd,  by  woes  made,  dull, 
My  head  is  emptier  than  my  heart  is  full ; 
Grief  doth  my  brain  impair,  as  tears  supply, 
Which  makes  my  face  so  moist,  my  pen  so  dry. 
Nor  should  this  work  proceed  from  woods  and  downs, 
But  from  the  academies,  courts,  and  towns; 
Let  Digby,  Carew,  Killigrew,  and  Maine, 
Godolphin,  Waller,  that  inspired  train, 
Or  whose  rare  pen  beside  deserves  the  grace, 
Or  of  an  equal,  or  a  neighboring  place, 
Answer  thy  wish,  for  none  so  fit  appears, 
To  raise  his  tomb,  as  who  are  left  his  heirs: 
Yet  for  this  cause  no  labor  need  be  spent, 
Writing  his  works,  he  built  his  monument. 

Mel.  If  to  obey  in  this,  thy  pen  be  loth, 
It  will  not  seem  thy  weakness,  but  thy  sloth: 
15 


210  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Our  towns  prest  by  our  foes  invading  might, 

Our  ancient  druids  and  young  virgins  fight, 

Employing  feeble  limbs  to  the  best  use; 

So  JONSON  dead,  no  pen  should  plead  excuse. 

For  elegies,  howl  all  who  cannot  sing, 

For  tombs  bring  turf,  who  cannot  marble  bring, 

Let  all  their  forces  mix,  join  verse  to  rhyme, 

To  save  his  fame  from  that  invader,  Time, 

Whose  power,  though  his  alone  may  well  restrain, 

Yet  to  so  wish'd  an  end,  no  care  is  vain; 

And  time,  like  what  our  brooks  act  in  our  sight, 

Oft  sinks  the  weighty,  and  upholds  the  light. 

Besides,  to  this,  thy  pains  I  strive  to  move 

Less  to  express  his  glory  than  thy  love: 

Not  long  before  his  death,  our  woods  he  meant 

To  visit,  and  descend  from  Thames  to  Trent, 

Mete  with  thy  elegy  his  pastoral, 

And  rise  as  much  as  he  vouchsafed  to  fall. 

Suppose  it  chance  no  other  pen  do  join 

In  this  attempt,  and  the  whole  work  be  thine? — 

When  the  fierce  fire  the  rash  boy  kindled,  reign 'd, 

The  whole  world  suffer'd;  earth  alone  complain 'd. 

Suppose  that  many  more  intend  the  same, 

More  taught  by  art,  and  better  known  to  fame? 

To  that  great  deluge  which  so  far  destroy 'd, 

The  earth  her  springs,  as  heaven  his  showers  em  ploy 'd. 

So  may  who  highest  marks  of  honor  wears, 

Admit  mean  partners  in  this  flood  of  tears; 

So  oft  the  humblest  join  with  loftiest  things, 

Nor  only  princes  weep  the  fate  of  kings. 

Hyl.  I  yield,  I  yield,  thy  words  my  thoughts  have  fired, 
And  I  am  less  persuaded  than  inspired ; 
Speech  shall  give  sorrow  vent,  and  that  relief, 
The  woods  shall  echo  all  the  city's  grief: 
I  oft  have  verse  on  meaner  subjects  made, 
Should  I  give  presents  and  leave  debts  unpaid  ? 
Want  of  invention  here  is  no  excuse, 
My  matter  I  shall  find,  and  not  produce, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  2II 

And  (as  it  fares  in  crowds)  I  only  doubt, 
So  much  would  pass,  that  nothing  will  get  out, 
Else  in  this  work  which  now  my  thoughts  intend 
I  shall  find  nothing  hard,  but  how  to  end: 
I  then  but  ask  fit  time  to  smooth  my  lays, 
(And  imitate  in  this  the  pen  I  praise) 
Which  by  the  subject's  power  embalm'd,  may  last, 
Whilst  the  sun  light,  the  earth  doth  shadows  cast, 
And,  feather'd  by  those  wings,  fly  among  men, 
Far  as  the  fame  of  poetry  and  Ben. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  i6j8.] 

Richard  Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  oj  Benjamin  Jonson. 
If  Romulus  did  promise  in  the  fight, 
To  Jove  the  Stator,  if  he  held  from  flight 
His  men,  a  temple,  and  perform 'd  his  vow, 
Why  should  not  we,  learn'd  Jonson,  thee  allow 
An  altar  at  the  least?  since  by  thy  aid, 
Learning,  that  would  have  left  us,  has  been  stay'd. 
The  actions  were  different:  that  thing 
Requir'd  some  mark  to  keep't  from  perishing. 
But  letters  must  be  quite  defaced,  before 
Thy  memory,  whose  care  did  them  restore. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Sir  John  Beaumont,  1638.  ( 

To  the  Memory  of  Him  Who  Can  Never  be  Forgotten,   Master 

Benjamin  Jonson. 

Had  this  been  for  some  meaner  poet's  herse, 
I  might  have  then  observ'd  the  laws  of  verse : 
But  here  they  fail,  nor  can  I  hope  to  express 
In  numbers,  what  the  world  grants  numberless: 
Such  are  the  truths,  we  ought  to  speak  of  thee, 
Thou  great  refiner  of  our  poesy, 
Who  turn'st  to  gold  that  which  before  was  lead ; 
Then  with  that  pure  elixir  rais'd  the  dead! 


212  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Nine  sisters  who  (for  all  the  poets  lies), 
Had  been  deem'd  mortal,  did  not  Jonson  rise, 
And  with  celestial  sparks  (not  stoln)  revive 
Those  who  could  erst  keep  winged  fame  alive : 
Twas  he  that  found  (plac'd)  in  the  seat  of  wit, 
Dull  grinning  ignorance,  and  banish'd  it; 
He  on  the  prostituted  stage  appears 
To  make  men  hear,  not  by  their  eyes,  but  ears; 
Who  painted  virtues,  that  each  one  might  know, 
And  point  the  man,  that  did  such  treasure  owe: 
So  that  who  could  in  Jonson's  lines  be  high, 
Needed  not  honors,  or  a  riband  buy; 
But  vice  he  only  shewed  us  in  a  glass, 
Which  by  reflection  of  those  rays  that  pass, 
Retains  the  figure  lively,  set  before, 
And  that  withdrawn,  reflects  at  us  no  more; 
So,  he  observ'd  the  like  decorum,  when 
He  whipt  the  vices,  and  yet  spar'd  the  men : 
When  heretofore,  the  Vice's  only  note, 
And  sign  from  virtue  was  his  party-coat ; 
When  devils  were  the  last  men  on  the  stage, 
And  pray'd  for  plenty,  and  the  present  age. 
Nor  was  our  English  language  only  bound 
To  thank  him,  for  he  Latin  Horace  found 
(Who  so  inspired  Rome,  with  his  lyric  song) 
Translated  in  the  macaronic  tongue; 
Cloth'd  in  such  rags,  as  one  might  safely  vow, 
That  his  Maecenas  would  not  own  him  now: 
On  him  he  took  this  pity,  as  to  clothe 
In  words,  and  such  expression,  as  for  both, 
There's  none  but  judge th  the  exchange  will  come 
To  twenty  more,  than  when  he  sold  at  Rome. 
Since  then,  he  made  our  language  pure  and  good, 
And  us  to  speak,  but  what  we  understood, 
We  owe  this  praise  to  him,  that  should  we  join 
To  pay  him,  he  were  paid  but  with  the  coin 
Himself  hath  minted,  which  we  know  by  this, 
That  no  words  pass  for  current  now,  but  his. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  213 

And  though  he  in  a  blinder  age  could  change 
Faults  to  perfections,  yet  'twas  far  more  strange 
To  see  (however  times  and  fashions  frame) 
His  wit  and  language  still  remain  the  same 
In  all  men's  mouths;  grave  preachers  did  it  use 
As  golden  pills,  by  which  they  might  infuse 
Their  heavenly  physic;  ministers  of  state 
Their  grave  dispatches  in  his  language  wrate; 
Ladies  made  curt'sies  in  them,  courtiers,  legs, 
Physicians  bills ; — perhaps,  some  pedant  begs 
He  may  not  use  it,  for  he  hears  'tis  such, 
As  in  few  words  a  man  may  utter  much. 
Could  I  have  spoken  in  his  language  too, 
I  had  not  said  so  much,  as  now  I  do, 
To  whose  clear  memory  I  this  tribute  send, 
Who  dead's  my  Wonder,  living  was  my  Friend. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Sir  Thomas  Hawkins,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Master  Benjamin  Jonson. 
To  press  into  the  throng,  where  wits  thus  strive 
To  make  thy  laurels  fading  tombs  survive, 
Argues  thy  worth,  their  love,  my  bold  desire, 
Somewhat  to  sing,  though  but  to  fill  the  quire: 
But  (truth  to  speak)  what  muse  can  silent  be, 
Or  little  say,  that  hath  for  subject,  thee? 
Whose  poems  such,  that  as  the  sphere  of  fire, 
They  warm  insensibly,  and  force  inspire, 
Knowledge,  and  wit  infuse,  mute  tongues  unloose,. 
And  ways  not  track'd  to  write,  and  speak  disclose. - 

But  when  thou  put'st  thy  tragic  buskin  on, 
Or  comic  sock  of  mirthful  action, 
Actors,  as  if  inspired  from  thy  hand, 
Speak,  beyond  what  they  think,  less,  understand: 
And  thirsty  hearers,  wonder-stricken,  say, 
Thy  words  make  that  a  truth,  was  meant  a  play 
Folly,  and  brain-sick  humors  of  the  time, 
Distemper'd  passion  and  audacious  crime, 


214  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thy  pen  so  on  the  stage  doth  personate, 
That  ere  men  scarce  begin  to  know,  they  hate 
The  vice  presented,  and  there  lessons  learn, 
Virtue,  from  vicious  habits  to  discern. 
Oft  have  I  seen  thee  in  a  sprightly  strain, 
To  lash  a  vice,  and  yet  no  one  complain ; 
Thou  threw'st  the  ink  of  malice  from  thy  pen, 
Whose  aim  was  evil  manners,  not  ill  men. 
Let  then  frail  parts  repose,  where  solemn  care 
Of  pious  friends  their  Pyramids  prepare; 
And  take  thou,  Ben,  from  Verse  a  second  breath, 
Which  shall  create  Thee  new,  and  conquer  death. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Henry  King,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  My  Friend,  Ben  Jonson. 
I  see  that  wreath  which  doth  the  wearer  arm 
'Gainst  the  quick  strokes  of  thunder,  is  no  charm 
To  keep  off  death's  pale  dart;  for,  Jonson,  then 
Thou  hadst  been  number'd  still  with  living  men : 
Time's  scythe  had  fear'd  thy  laurel  to  invade, 
Nor  thee  this  subject  of  our  sorrow  made. 

Amongst  those  many  votaries  that  come 
To  offer  up  their  garlands  at  thy  tomb, 
Whilst  some  more  lofty  pens  in  their  bright  verse, 
(Like  glorious  tapers  flaming  on  thy  herse) 
Shall  light  the  dull  and  thankless  world  to  see, 
How  great  a  maim  it  suffers,  wanting  thee; 
Let  not  thy  learned  shadow  scorn,  that  I 
Pay  meaner  rites  unto  thy  memory: 
And  since  I  nought  can  add  but  in  desire,     ,- 
Restore  some  sparks  which  leap'd  from  thine  own  fire. 

What  ends  soever  other  quills  invite, 
I  can  protest,  it  was  no  itch  to  write, 
Nor  any  vain  ambition  to  be  read, 
But  merely  love  and  justice  to  the  dead, 
Which  rais'd  my  fameless  muse:  and  caus'd  her  bring 
These  drops,  as  tribute  thrown  into  that  spring, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  215 

To  whose  most  rich  and  fruitful  head  we  owe 
The  purest  streams  of  language  which  can  flow. 
For  'tis  but  truth ;  thou  taught'st  the  ruder  age, 
To  speak  by  grammar;  and  reform'dst  the  stage; 
Thy  comic  sock  induc'd  such  purged  sense, 
A  Lucrece  might  have  heard  without  offence. 
Amongst  those  soaring  wits  that  did  dilate 
Our  English,  and  advance  it  to  the  rate 
And  value  it  now  holds,  thyself  was  one 
Help'd  lift  it  up  to  such  proportion, 
That,  thus  refined  and  robed,  it  shall  not  spare 
With  the  full  Greek  or  Latin  to  compare. 
For  what  tongue  ever  durst,  but  ours,  translate 
Great  Tully's  eloquence,  or  Homer's  state? 
Both  which  in  their  unblemish'd  lustre  shine, 
From  Chapman's  pen,  and  from  thy  Catiline. 

All  I  would  ask  for  thee,  in  recompense 
Of  thy  successful  toil  and  time's  expense 
Is  only  this  poor  boon;  that  those  who  can, 
Perhaps,  read  French,  or  talk  Italian; 
Or  do  the  lofty  Spaniard  affect, 
(To  shew  their  skill  in  foreign  dialect) 
Prove  not  themselves  so'  unnaturally  wise 
They  therefore  should  their  mother- tongue  despise; 
(As  if  her  poets  both  for  style  and  wit, 
Not  equall'd,  or  not  pass'd  their  best  that  writ) 
Until  by  studying  Jonson  they  have  known 
The  height,  and  strength,  and  plenty  of  their  own. 

Thus  in  what  low.  earth,  or  neglected  room 
Soe'er  thou  sleep'st,  thy  Book  shall  be  thy  tomb. 
Thou  wilt  go  down  a  happy  corse,  bestrew'd 
With  thine  own  flowers,  and  feel  thyself  renew'd, 
Whilst  thy  immortal,  never-withering  bays 
Shall  yearly  flourish  in  thy  reader's  praise  : 
And  when  more  spreading  titles  are  forgot, 
Or,  spite  of  all  their  lead  and  sear-cloth,  rot; 
Thou  wrapt  and  shrin'd  in  thine  own  sheets  wilt  lie, 
A  Relic  fam'd  by  all  posterity. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


216  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Henry  Coventry,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Benjamin  Jonson. 
Might  but  this  slender  offering  of  mine, 
Crowd  'midst  the  sacred  burden  of  thy  shrine, 
The  near  acquaintance  with  thy  greater  name 
Might  style  me  wit,  and  privilege  my  fame, 
But  I've  no  such  ambition,  nor  dare  sue 
For  the  least  legacy  of  wit,  as  due. 
I  come  not  t'  offend  duty,  and  transgress 
Affection,  nor  with  bold  presumption  press, 
'Midst  those  close  mourners,  whose  nigh  kin  in  verse, 
Hath  made  the  near  attendance  of  thy  hearse. 
I  come  in  duty,  not  in  pride,  to  shew 
Not  what  I  have  in  store,  but  what  I  owe; 
Nor  shall  my  folly  wrong  thy  fame,  for  we 
Prize,  by  the  want  of  wit,  the  loss  of  thee. 

As  when  the  wearied  sun  hath  stol'n  to  rest, 
And  darkness  made  the  world's  unwelcome  guest, 
We  grovelling  captives  of  the  night,  yet  may 
With  fire  and  candle  beget  light,  not  day; 
Now  he  whose  name  in  poetry  controls, 
Goes  to  converse  with  more  refined  souls, 
Like  country  gazers  in  amaze  we  sit, 
Admirers  of  this  great  eclipse  in  wit. 
Reason  and  wit  we  have  to  shew  us  men, 
But  no  hereditary  beam  of  Ben. 
Our  knock'd  inventions  may  beget  a  spark, 
Which  faints  at  least  resistance  of  the  dark; 
Thine  like  the  fire's  high  element  was  pure, 
And  like  the  same  made  not  to  burn,  but  cure. 
When  thy  enraged  Muse  did  chide  o'  the  stage, 
'Twas  to  reform,  not  to  abuse  the  age. 
— But  thou'rt  requited  ill,  to  have  thy  herse, 
Stain 'd  by  profaner  parricides  in  verse, 
Who  make  mortality  a  guilt,  and  scold, 
Merely  because  thou'dst  offer  to  be  old: 
Twas  too  unkind  a  slight'ning  of  thy  name, 
To  think  a  ballad  could  confute  thy  fame; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  217 

Let's  but  peruse  their  libels,  and  they'll  be 
But  arguments  they  understood  not  thee. 
Nor  is't  disgrace,  that  in  thee,  through  age  spent 
'Twas  thought  a  crime  not  to  be  excellent: 
For  me,  I'll  in  such  reverence  hold  thy  fame, 
I'll  but  by  invocation  use  thy  name, 
Be  thou  propitious,  poetry  shall  know, 
No  deity  but  Thee  to  whom  I'll  owe. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Thomas  May,  1638. 

An  Elegy  upon  Benjamin  Jons  on. 
Though  once  high  Statius  o'er  dead  Lucan's  hearse, 
Would  seem  to  fear  his  own  hexameters, 
And  thought  a  greater  honor  than  that  fear 
He  could  not  bring  to  Lucan's  sepulchre; 
Let  not  our  poets  fear  to  write  of  thee, 
Great  Jon-son,  king  of  English  poetry, 
In  any  English  verse,  let  none  whoe'er, 
Bring  so  much  emulation  as  to  fear: 
But  pay  without  comparing  thoughts  at  all, 
Their  tribute — verses  to  thy  funeral; 
Nor  think  whate'er  they  write  on  such  a  name, 
Can  be  amiss:  if  high,  it  fits  thy  fame; 
If  low,  it  rights  thee  more,  and  makes  men  see, 
That  English  poetry  is  dead  with  thee; 
Which  in  thy  genius  did  so  strongly  live. — 
Nor  will  I  here  particularly  strive, 
To  praise  each  well  composed  piece  of  thine; 
Or  shew  what  judgment,  art  and  wit  did  join 
To  make  them  up,  but  only  (in  the  way 
That  Famianus  honor'd  Virgil)  say, 
The  Muse  herself  was  link'd  so  near  to  thee, 
Whoe'er  saw  one,  must  needs  the  other  see; 
And  if  in  thy  expressions  aught  seem'd  scant, 

Not  thou,  but  Poetry  itself,  did  want. 

• 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


218  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Dudley  Diggs,  1638. 

An  Elegy  on  Ben  Jonson. 
I  dare  not,  learned  Shade,  bedew  thy  herse 
With  tears,  unless  that  impudence,  in  verse, 
Would  cease  to  be  a  sin ;  and  what  were  crime 
In  prose,  would  be  no  injury  in  rhyme. 
My  thoughts  are  so  below,  I  fear  to  act 
A  sin,  like  their  black  envy,  who  detract; 
As  oft  as  I  would  character  in  speech 
That  worth,  which  silent  wonder  scarce  can  reach. 
Yet,  I  that  but  pretend  to  learning,  owe 
So  much  to  thy  great  fame,  I  ought  to  shew 
My  weakness  in  thy  praise;  thus  to  approve, 
Although  it  be  less  wit,  is  greater  love: 
'Tis  all  our  fancy  aims  at;  and  our  tongues 
At  best,  will  guilty  prove  of  friendly  wrongs. 
For,  who  would  image  out  thy  worth,  great  Ben, 
Should  first  be,  what  he  praises;  and  his  pen 
Thy  active  brains  should  feed,  which  we  can't  have, 
Unless  we  could  redeem  thee  from  the  grave. 
The  only  way  that's  left  now,  is  to  look 
Into  thy  papers,  to  read  o'er  thy  book; 
And  then  remove  thy  fancies,  there  doth  lie 
Some  judgment,  where  we  cannot  make,  t'  apply 
Our  reading:  some,  perhaps,  may  call  this  wit, 
And  think,  we  do  not  steal,  but  only  fit 
Thee  to  thyself;  of  all  thy  marble  wears, 
Nothing  is  truly  ours,  except  the  tears. 

O  could  we  weep  like  thee!  we  might  convey 
New  breath,  and  raise  men  from  their  beds  .of  clay 
Unto  a  life  of  fame;  he  is  not  dead, 
Who  by  thy  Muses  hath  been  buried. 
Thrice  happy  those  brave  heroes,  whom  I  meet 
Wrapt  in  thy  writings,  as  their  winding  sheet! 
For,  when  the  tribute  unto  nature  due, 
Was  paid,  they  did  receive  new  life  from  you; 
Which  shall  not  be  undated,  since  thy  breath 
Is  able  to  immortal,  after  death. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  219 

Thus  rescued  from  the  dust,  they  did  ne'er  see 
True  life,  until  they  were  entomb'd  by  thee. 

You  that  pretend  to  courtship,  here  admire 
Those  pure  and  active  flames,  love  did  inspire: 
And  though  he  could  have  took  his  mistress'  ears, 
Beyond  faint  sighs,  false  oaths,  and  forced  tears; 
His  heat  was  still  so  modest,  it  might  warm, 
But  do  the  cloister'd  votary  no  harm. 
The  face  he  sometimes  praises,  but  the  mind, 
A  fairer  saint,  is  in  his  verse  enshrin'd. 

He  that  would  worthily  set  down  his  praise, 
Should  study  lines  as  lofty  as  his  plays. 
The  Roman  worthies  did  not  seem  to  fight 
With  braver  spirit,  than  we  see  him  write; 
His  pen  their  valor  equals;  and  that  age 
Receives  a  greater  glory  from  our  stage. 
Bold  Catiline,  at  once  Rome's  hate  and  fear, 
Far  higher  in  his  story  doth  appear; 
The  flames  those  active  furies  did  inspire, 
Ambition  and  Revenge,  his  better  fire 
Kindles  afresh;  thus  lighted,  they  shall  burn, 
Till  Rome  to  its  first  nothing  do  return. 
Brave  fall,  had  but  the  cause  been  likewise  good, 
Had  he  so,  for  his  country,  lost  his  blood ! 

Some  like  not  Tully  in  his  own ;  yet  while  - 
All  do  admire  him  in  thy  English  style, 
I  censure  not;  I  rather  think,  that  we 
May  well  his  equal,  thine  we  ne'er  shall  see. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

George  Fortescue,  1638. 

To  the  Immortality  of  My  Learned  Friend,  Master  Jonson 
I  parlied  once  with  death,  and  thought  to  yield; 
When  thou  advised'st  me  to  keep  the  field; 
Yet  if  I  fell,  thou  wouldst  upon  my  herse, 
Breathe  the  reviving  spirit  of  thy  verse. 

I  live,  and  to  thy  grateful  Muse  would  pay 
A  parallel  of  thanks,  but  that  this  day 


220  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Of  thy  fair  rights,  through  th'  innumerous  light, 
That  flows  from  thy  adorers,  seems  as  bright, 
As  when  the  sun  darts  through  his  golden  hair, 
His  beams'  diameter  into  the  air. 
In  vain  I  then  strive  to  encrease  thy  glory, 
These  lights  that  go  before  make  dark  my  story. 
Only  I'll  say,  heaven  gave  unto  thy  pen 
A  sacred  power,  immortalizing  men, 
And  thou  dispensing  life  immortally, 
Does  now  but  sabbatise  from  work,  not  die. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

William  Habington,  1638. 

An   Elegy   upon  the  Death  of  Ben  Jonson,  the  Most  Excellent 

oj  English  Poets. 

What  doth  officious  fancy  here  prepare?  — 
Be't  rather  this  rich  kingdom's  charge  and  care 
To  find  a  virgin  quarry,  whence  no  hand 
E'er  wrought  a  tomb  on  vulgar  dust  to  stand, 
And  thence  bring  for  this  work  materials  fit : 
Great  Jonson  needs  no  architect  of  wit; 
Who  forc'd  from  art,  receiv'd  from  nature  more 
Than  doth  survive  him,  or  e'er  liv'd  before. 

And,  poets,  with  what  veil  soe'er  you  hide, 
Your  aim,  'twill  not  be  thought  your  grief,  but  pride, 
Which,  that  your  cypress  never  growth  might  want, 
Did  it  near  his  eternal  laurel  plant. 

Heaven  at  the  death  of  princes,  by  the  birth 
Of  some  new  star,  seems  to  instruct  the  earth, 
How  it  resents  our  human  fate.     Then  why 
Didst  thou,  wit's  most  triumphant  monarch,  die 
Without  thy  comet?     Did  the  sky  despair 
To  teem  a  fire,  bright  as  thy  glories  were? 
Or  is  it  by  its  age,  unfruitful  grown, 
And  can  produce  no  light,  but  what  is  known, 
A  common  mourner,  when  a  prince's  fall 
Invites  a  star  t'  attend  the  funeral? 


TO  BEN  JONSON  221 

But  those  prodigious  sights  only  create 
Talk  for  the  vulgar:  Heaven,  before  thy  fate, 
That  thou  thyself  might'st  thy  own  dirges  hear, 
Made  the  sad  stage  close  mourner  for  a  year; 
The  stage,  which  (as  by  an  instinct  divine, 
Instructed)  seeing  its  own  fate  in  thine, 
And  knowing  how  it  ow'd  its  life  to  thee, 
Prepared  itself  thy  sepulchre  to  be; 
And  had  continued  so,  but  that  thy  wit, 
Which  as  the  soul,  first  animated  it, 
Still  hovers  here  below,  and  ne'er  shall  die, 
Till  time  be  buried  in  eternity. 

But  you!  whose  comic  labors  on  the  stage, 
Against  the  envy  of  a  froward  age 
Hold  combat!  how  will  now  your  vessels  sail, 
The  seas  so  broken  and  the  winds  so  frail, 
Such  rocks,  such  shallows  threat'ning  every  where 
And  Jonson  dead,  whose  art  your  course  might  steer  ? 

Look  up!  where  Seneca  and  Sophocles, 
Quick  Plautus  and  sharp  Aristophanes, 
Enlighten  yon  bright  orb!  doth  not  your  eye, 
Among  them,  one  far  larger  fire,  descry, 
At  which  their  lights  grow  pale?  'tis  Jonson,  there 
He  shines  your  Star,  who  was  your  Pilot  here. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Edmund  Waller,  1638. 

Upon  Ben  Jonson,  the  Most  Excellent  of  Comic  Poets. 
Mirror  of  poets!  mirror  of  our  age! 
Which  her  whole  face  beholding  on  thy  stage, 
Pleas'd  and  displeas'd  with  her  own  faults  endures, 
A  remedy,  like  those  whom  music  cures. 
Thou  not  alone  those  various  inclinations, 
Which  nature  gives  to  ages,  sexes,  nations, 
Hast  traced  with  thy  all-resembling  pen, 
But  all  that  custom  hath  impos'd  on  men, 
Or  ill-got  habits,  which  distort  them  so, 
That  scarce  the  brother  can  the  brother  know, 


222  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Is  represented  to  the  wondering  eyes, 
Of  all  that  see  or  read  thy  Comedies. 
Whoever  in  those  glasses  looks  may  find, 
The  spots  return'd,  or  graces  of  his  mind; 
And  by  the  help  of  so  divine  an  art, 
At  leisure  view,  and  dress  his  nobler  part. 
Narcissus  cozen 'd  by  that  flattering  well, 
Which  nothing  could  but  of  his  beauty  tell, 
Had  here,  discovering  the  deform'd  estate 
Of  his  fond  mind,  preserv'd  himself  with  hate. 
But  virtue  too,  as  well  as  vice,  is  clad 
In  flesh  and  blood  so  well,  that  Plato  had 
Beheld  what  his  high  fancy  once  embraced, 
Virtue  with  colors,  speech,  and  motion  graced. 
The  sundry  postures  of  thy  copious  muse, 
Who  would  express,  a  thousand  tongues  must  use: 
Whose  fate's  no  less  peculiar  than  thy  art ; 
For  as  thou  couldst  all  characters  impart, 
So  none  can  render  thine,  who  still  escapes, 
Like  Proteus  in  variety  of  shapes, 
Who  was  nor  this  nor  that,  but  all  we  find, 
And  all  we  can  imagine  in  mankind. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

James  Ho  well,  1638. 

Upon  the  Poet  of  His  Time,  Benjamin  Jonson,  His  Honored  Friend 

and  Father. 

And  is  thy  glass  run  out?  is  that  oil  spent, 
Which  light  to  such  tough  sinewy  labors  lent? 
Well,  Ben,  I  now  perceive  that  all  the  Nine, 
Though  they  their  utmost  forces  should  combine, 
Cannot  prevail  'gainst  Night's  three  daughters,  but, 
One  still  will  spin,  one  wind,  the  other  cut. 
Yet  in  despight  of  spindle,  clue,  and  knife, 
Thou,  in  thy  strenuous  lines,  hast  got  a  life, 
Which,  like  thy  bay,  shall  flourish  every  age, 
While  sock  or  buskin  move  upon  the  stage. 

[Jonsonus   Virbius,   1638.     Cf.  the   entry  "James    Howell,   1638"  on 
page  202.1 


TO  BEN  JONSON  223 

John  Vernon,  1638. 

An  Offertory  at  the  Tomb  oj  the  Famous  Poet  Ben  Jonson. 
If  souls  departed  lately  hence  do  know 
How  we  perform  the  duties  that  we  owe 
Their  reliques,  will  it  not  grieve  thy  spirit 
To  see  our  dull  devotion  ?  thy  merit 
Profaned  by  disproportion 'd  rites?  thy  herse 
Rudely  defiled  with  our  unpolish'd  verse?  — 
Necessity's  our  best  excuse:  'tis  in 
Our  understanding,  not  our  will,  we  sin ; 
'Gainst  which  'tis  now  in  vain  to  labor,  we 
Did  nothing  know,  but  what  was  taught  by  thee. 

The  routed  soldiers  when  their  captains  fall 
Forget  all  order,  that  men  cannot  call 
It  properly  a  battle  that  they  fight; 
Nor  we  (thou  being  dead)  be  said  to  write. 
'Tis  noise  we  utter,  nothing  can  be  sung 
By  those  distinctly  that  have  lost  their  tongue  ; 
And  therefore  whatsoe'er  the  subject  be, 
All  verses  now  become  thy  ELEGY: 
For,  when  a  lifeless  poem  shall  be  read, 
Th'  afflicted  reader  sighs,  Ben  Jonson's  dead. 
This  is  thy  glory,  that  no  pen  can  raise 
A  lasting  trophy  in  thy  honor'd  praise; 
Since  fate  (it  seems)  would  have  it  so  exprest, 
Each  muse  should  end  with  thine,  who  was  the  best: 
And  but  her  flights  were  stronger,  and  so  high, 
That  time's  rude  hand  cannot  reach  her  glory, 
An  ignorance  had  spread  this  age,  as  great 
As  that  which  made  thy  learned  muse  so  sweat, 
And  toil  to  dissipate;  until,  at  length, 
Purg'd  by  thy  art,  it  gain'd  a  lasting  strength; 
And  now  secur'd  by  thy  all-powerful  writ, 
Can  fear  no  more  a  like  relapse  of  wit: 

Though  (to  our  grief)  we  ever  must  despair, 

That  any  age  can  raise  thee  up  an  heir. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


224  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Ben  Jonson. 
The  Muses'  fairest  light  in  no  dark  time; 
The  wonder  of  a  learned  age ;  the  line 
Which  none  can  pass;   the  most  proportion'd  wit, 
To  nature,  the  best  judge  of  what  was  fit; 
The  deepest,  plainest,  highest,  clearest  pen; 
The  voice  most  echo'd  by  consenting  men : 
The  soul  which  answer'd  best  to  all  well  said 
By  others,  and  which  most  requital  made; 
Tuned  to  the  highest  key  of  ancient  Rome, 
Returning  all  her  music  with  his  own, 
In  whom  with  nature,  study  claim'd  a  part, 
And  yet  who  to  himself  ow'd  all  his  art : 
Here  lies  Ben  Jonson !     Every  age  will  look 
With  sorrow  here,  with  wonder  on  his  Book. 
[Jonsomis  Virbius,  1638.] 

John  Cleveland,  1638. 

To  the  Same. 

Who  first  reform'd  our  stage  with  justest  laws, 
And  was  the  first  best  judge  in  your  own  cause: 
Who,  when  his  actors  trembled  for  applause, 

Could  (with  a  noble  confidence)  prefer 
His  own,  by  right,  to  a  whole  theatre; 
From  principles  which  he  knew  could  not  err. 

Who  to  his  Fable  did  his  persons  fit, 
With  all  the  properties  of  art  and  wit, 
And  above  all,  that  could  be  acted,  writ. 

Who  public  follies  did  to  covert  drive, 
Which  he  again  could  cunningly  retrive, 
Leaving  them  no  ground  to  rest  on,  and  thrive, 

Here  Jonson  lies,  whom,  had  I  nam'd  before, 
In  that  one  word  alone,  I  had  paid  more 
Than  can  be  now,  when  plenty  makes  me  poor. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  225 

Jasper  Mayne,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Ben  Jonson. 
As  when  the  vestal  hearth  went  out,  no  fire 
Less  holy  than  the  flame  that  did  expire, 
Could  kindle  it  again:  so  at  thy  fall 
Our  wit,  great  Ben,  is  too  apocryphal 
To  celebrate  the  loss,  since  'tis  too  much 
To  write  thy  Epitaph,  and  not  be  such. 
What  thou  wert,  like  th'  hard  oracles  of  old, 
Without  an  extasy  cannot  be  told. 
We  must  be  ravish'd  first;  thou  must  infuse 
Thyself  into  us  both  the  theme  and  muse. 
Else,  (though  we  all  conspir'd  to  make  thy  herse 
Our  works)  so  that't  had  been  but  one  great  verse, 
Though  the  priest  had  translated  for  that  time 
The  liturgy  and  buried  thee  in  rhyme, 
So  that  in  metre  we  had  heard  it  said, 
Poetic  dust  is  to  poetic  laid : 

And  though,  that  dust  being  Shakspeare's,  thou  might'st  have 
Not  his  room,  but  the  poet  for  thy  grave; 
So  that,  as  thou  didst  prince  of  numbers  die 
And  live,  so  now  thou  might'st  in  numbers  lie. 
'Twere  frail  solemnity:  verses  on  thee 
And  not  like  thine,  would  but  kind  libels  be; 
And  we  (not  speaking  thy  whole  worth)  should  raise 
Worse  blots,  than  they  that  envied  thy  praise. 
Indeed,  thou  need'st  us  not,  since  above  all 
Invention,  thou  wert  thine  own  funeral. 

Hereafter,  when  time  hath  fed  on  thy  tomb, 
Th'  inscription  worn  out,  and  the  marble  dumb, 
So  that  'twould  pose  a  critic  to  restore 
Half  words,  and  words  expir'd  so  long  before; 
When  thy  maim'd  statue  hath  a  sentenced  face, 
And  looks  that  are  the  horror  of  the  place, 
That  'twill  be  learning,  and  antiquity, 
And  ask  a  Selden  to  say,  this  was  thee, 
Thou'lt  have  a  whole  name  still,  nor  need'st  thou  fear 
That  will  be  ruin'd,  or  lose  nose,  or  hair. 
16 


226  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Let  authors  write  so  thin,  that  they  can't  be 

Authors  till  rotten,  no  posterity 

Can  add  to  thy  works;  they  had  their  whole  growth  then 

When  first  .borne,  and  came  aged  from  thy  pen. 

Whilst  living  thou  enjoy'dst  the  fame  and  sense 

Of  all  that  time  gives,  but  the  reverence. 

When  thou'rt  of  Homer's  years,  no  man  will  say 

Thy  poems  are  less  worthy,  but  more  gray: 

Tis  bastard  poetry,  and  of  false  blood 

Which  can't,  without  succession,  be  good. 

Things  that  will  always  last,  do  thus  agree 

With  things  eternal;  th'  at  once  perfect  be. 

Scorn  then  their  censures,  who  gave  out,  thy  wit 

As  long  upon  a  comedy  did  sit 

As  elephants  bring  forth;  and  that  thy  blots 

And  mendings  took  more  time  than  Fortune  plots : 

That  such  thy  drought  was,  and  so  great  thy  thirst, 

That  all  thy  plays  were  drawn  at  the  Mermaid  first ; 

That  the  king's  yearly  butt  wrote,  and  his  wine 

Hath  more  right  than  thou  to  thy  Catiline. 

Let  such  men  keep  a  diet,  let  their  wit 

Be  rack'd,  and  while  they  write,  suffer  a  fit: 

When  they've  felt  tortures  which  out-pain  the  gout, 

Such,  as  with  less,  the- state  draws  treason  out; 

Though  they  should  the  length  of  consumptions  lie 

Sick  of  their  verse,  and  of  their  poem  die, 

'Twould  not  be  thy  worse  scene,  but  would  at  last 

Confirm  their  boastings,  and  shew  made  in  haste. 

He  that  writes  well,  writes  quick,  since  the  rule's  true, 
Nothing  is  slowly  done,  that's  always  new. 
So  when  thy  Fox  had  ten  times  acted  been, 
Each  day  was  first,  but  that  'twas  cheaper  seen ; 
And  so  thy  Alchemist  played  o'er  and  o'er, 
Was  new  o'  the  stage,  when  'twas  not  at  the  door. 
We,  like  the  actors,  did  repeat;  the  pit 
The  first  time  saw,  the  next  conceiv'd  thy  wit: 
W7hich  was  cast  in  those  forms,  such  rules,  such  arts, 
That  but  to  some  not  half  thy  acts  were  parts : 


TO  BEN  JONSON  227 

Since  of  some  silken  judgments  we  may  say, 

They  fill'd  a  box  two  hours,  but  saw  no  play. 

So  that  th'  unlearned  lost  their  money ;  and 

Scholars  sav'd  only,  that  could  understand. 

Thy  scene  was  free  from  monsters ;  no  hard  plot 

Call'd  down  a  God  t'  untie  th'  unlikely  knot; 

The  stage  was  still  a  stage,  two  entrances 

Were  not  two  parts  o'  the  world,  disjoin 'd  by  seas. 

Thine  were  land-tragedies  no  prince  was  found 

To  swim  a  whole  scene  out  then  o'  the  stage  drown'd ; 

Pitch'd  fields,  as  Red-bull  wars,  still  felt  thy  doom; 

Thou  laid'st  no  sieges  to  the  music  room; 

Nor  wouldst  allow,  to  thy  best  Comedies, 

Humors  that  should  above  the  people  rise. 

Yet  was  thy  language  and  thy  style  so  high, 

Thy  sock  to  th'  ancle,  buskin  reach'd  to  th'  thigh;; 

And  both  so  chaste, 'so  'bove  dramatic  clean, 

That  we  both  safely  saw,  and  liv'd  thy  scene. 

No  foul  loose  line  did  prostitute  thy  wit, 

Thou  wrot'st  thy  comedies,  didst  not  commit. 

We  did  the  vice  arraign'd  not  tempting  hear, 

And  were  made  judges,  not  bad  parts  by  th'  ear. 

For  thou  ev'n  sin  did- in  such  words  array, 

That  some  who  came  bad  parts,  went  out  good  play. 

Which,  ended  not  with  th'  epilogue,  the  age 

Still  acted,  which  grew  innocent  from  the  stage. 

'Tis  true  thou  hadst  some  sharpness,  but  thy  salt 

Serv'd  but  with  pleasure  to  reform  the  fault: 

Men  were  laugh'd  into  virtue,  and  none  more 

Hated  Face  acted  than  were  such  before. 

So  did  thy  sting  not  blood,  but  humors  drawr 

So  much  doth  satire  more  correct. than  law; 

Which  was  not  nature  in  thee,  as  some  call 

Thy  teeth,  who  say  thy  wit  lay  in  thy  gall: 

That  thou  didst  quarrel  first,  and  then,  in  spite, 

Didst  'gainst  a  person  of  such  vices  write; 

That  'twas  revenge,  not  truth,  that  on  the  stage 

Carlo  was  not  presented,  but  thy  rage: 


228  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  that  when  thou  in  company  wert  met, 

Thy  meat  took  notes,  and  thy  discourse  was  net. 

We  know  thy  free  vein  had  this  innocence, 

To  spare  the  party,  and  to  brand  th'  offence; 

And  the  just  indignation  thou  wert  in 

Did  not  expose  Shift,  but  his  tricks  and  gin. 

Thou  mightst  have  us'd  th'  old  comic  freedom,  these 

Might  have  seen  themselves  play'd  like  Socrates; 

Like  Cleon,  Mammon  might  the  knight  have  been, 

If,  as  Greek  authors,  thou  hadst  turn'd  Greek  spleen; 

And  hadst  not  chosen  rather  to  translate 

Their  learning  into  English,  not  their  hate: 

Indeed  this  last,  if  thou  hadst  been  bereft 

Of  thy  humanity,  might  be  call'd  theft; 

The  other  was  not;  whatsoe'er  was  strange, 

Or  borrow'd  in  thee,  did  grow  thine  by  the  change, 

Who  without  Latin  helps  hadst  been  as  rare 

As  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  or  as  Shakspeare  were: 

And  like  them,  from  thy  native  stock  could'st  say, 

Poets  and  kings  are  not  born  every  day. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

William  Cartwright,  1638. 

In  the  Memory  of  the  Most  Worthy  Benjamin  Jonson. 
Father  of  poets,  though  thine  own  great  day, 
Struck  from  thyself,  scorns  that  a  weaker  ray 
Should  twine  in  lustre  with  it,  yet  my  flame, 
Kindled  from  thine,  flies  upwards  tow'rds  thy  name. 
For  in  the  acclamation  of  the  less 
There's  piety,  though  from  it  no  access. 
And  though  my  ruder  thoughts  make  me  of  those, 
Who  hide  and  cover  what  they  should  disclose; 
Yet,  where  the  lustre's  such,  he  makes  it  seem 
Better  to  some,  that  draws  the  veil  between. 

And  what  can  more  be  hoped,  since  that  divine 
Free  filling  spirit  took  its  flight  with  thine? 
Men  may  have  fury,  but  no  raptures  now; 
Like  witches,  charm,  yet  not  know  whence,  nor  how; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  229 

And,  through  distemper,  grown  not  strong  but  fierce, 
Instead  of  writing,  only  rave  in  verse : 
Which  when  by  thy  laws  judg'd,  'twill  be  confess'd, 
'Twas  not  to  be  inspir'd,  but  be  possess'd. 

Where  shall  we  find  a  muse  like  thine,  that  can 
So  well  present  and  shew  man  unto  man , 
That  each  one  finds  his  twin,  and  thinks  thy  art 
Extends  not  to  the  gestures  but  the  heart? 
Where  one  so  shewing  life  to  life,  that  we 
Think  thou  taught'st  custom,  and  not  custom  thee? 
Manners,  that  were  themes  to  thy  scenes  still  flow 
In  the  same  stream,  and  are  their  comments  now: 
These  times  thus  living  o'er  thy  models,  we 
Think  them  not  so  much 'wit,  as  prophecy; 
And  though  we  know  the  character,  may  swear 
A  Sybil's  finger  hath  been  busy  there. 

Things  common  thou  speak'st  proper,  which  though  known 
For  public,  stampt  by  thee  grow  thence  thine  own: 
Thy  thoughts  so  order 'd,  so  express'd,  that  we 
Conclude  that  thou  didst  not  discourse,  but  see, 
Language  so  master'd,  that  thy  numerous  feet, 
Laden  with  genuine  words,  do  always  meet 
Each  in  his  art;  nothing  unfit  doth  fall, 
Shewing  the  poet,  like  the  wiseman,  All. 
Thine  equal  skill  thus  wresting  nothing,  made 
Thy  pen  seem  not  so  much  to  write  as  trade. 

That  life,  that  Venus  of  all  things,  which  we 
Conceive  or  shew,  proportion'd  decency, 
Is  not  found  scatter'd  in  thee  here  and  there, 
But,  like  the  soul,  is  wholly  everywhere. 
No  strange  perplexed  maze  doth  pass  for  plot, 
Thou  always  dost  untie,  not  cut  the  knot. 
Thy  labyrinth's  doors  are  open'd  by  one  thread 
That  ties,  and  runs  through  all  that's  done  or  said: 
No  power  comes  down  with  learned  hat  and  rod, 
Wit  only,  and  contrivance  is  thy  god. 

Tis  easy  to  gild  gold;  there's  small  skill  spent 
Where  even  the  first  rude  mass  is  ornament: 


230  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thy  muse  took  harder  metals,  purg'd  and  boil'd, 

Labor'd  and  tried,  heated,  and  beat  and  toil'd, 

Sifted  the  dross,  filed  roughness,  then  gave  dress, 

Vexing  rude  subjects  into  comeliness. 

Be  it  thy  glory  then,  that  we  may  say, 

Thou  run'st  where  th'  foot  was  hinder'd  by  the  way. 

Nor  dost  thou  pour  out,  but  dispense  thy  vein , 
Skill'd  when  to  spare,  and  when  to  entertain : 
Not  like  our  wits,  who  into  one  piece  do 
Throw  all  that  they  can  say,  and  their  friends  too ; 
Pumping  themselves,  for  one  term's  noise  so  dry, 
As  if  they  made  their  wills  in  poetry. 
And  such  spruce  compositions  press  the  stage, 
When  men  transcribe  themselves,  and  not  the  age: 
Both  sorts  of  plays  are  thus  like  pictures  shewn, 
Thine  of  the  common  life,  theirs  of  their  own. 

Thy  models  yet  are  not  so  fram'd,  as  we 
May  call  them  libels,  and  not  imag'ry, 
No  name  on  any  basis:  'tis  thy  skill 
To  strike  the  vice,  but  spare  the  person  still. 
As  he,  who  when  he  saw  the  serpent  wreath 'd 
About  his  sleeping  son,  and  as  he  breath'd, 
Drink  in  his  soul,  did  so  the  shot  contrive, 
To  kill  the  beast,  but  keep  the  child  alive: 
So  dost  thou  aim  thy  darts,  which,  even  when 
They  kill  the  poisons,  do  but  wake  the  men; 
Thy  thunders  thus  but  purge,  and  we  endure 
Thy  lancings  better  than  another's  cure; 
And  justly  too:  for  th'  age  grows  more  unsound 
From  the  fool's  balsam,  than  the  wiseman's  wound. 

No  rotten  talk  brokes  for  a  laugh ;  no  page 
Commenc'd  man  by  th'  instructions  of  thy  stage; 
No  bargaining  line  there;  provoc'tive  verse; 
Nothing  but  what  Lucretia  might  rehearse; 
No  need  to  make  good  countenance  ill,  and  use 
The  plea  of  strict  life  for  a  looser  muse. 
No  woman  ruled  thy  quill ;  we  can  descry 
No  verse  born  under  any  Cynthia's  eye: 


TO  BEN  JONSON  231 

Thy  star  was  judgment  only,  and  right  sense 

Thyself  being  to  thyself  an  influence. 

Stout  beauty  is  thy  grace ;  stern  pleasures  do 

Present  delights,  but  mingle  horrors  too: 

Thy  muse  doth  thus  like  Jove's  fierce  girl  appear, 

With  a  fair  hand,  but  grasping  of  a  spear. 

Where  are  they  now  that  cry,  thy  lamp  did  drink 
More  oil  than  the  author  wine,  while  he  did  think? 
We  do  embrace  their  slander:  thou  hast  writ 
Not  for  dispatch  but  fame;  no  market  wit: 
Twas  not  thy  care,  that  it  might  pass  and  sell, 
But  that  it  might  endure,  and  be  done  well: 
Nor  wouldst  thou  venture  it  unto  the  ear, 
Until  the  file  would  not  make  smooth,  but  wear; 
Thy  verse  came  season'd  hence,  and  would  not  give; 
Born  not  to  feed  the  author,  but  to  live : 
Whence  'mong  the  choicer  judges  risse  a  strife, 
To  make  thee  read  as  classic  in  thy  life. 
Those  that  do  hence  applause,  and  suffrage  beg, 
'Cause  they  can  poems  form  upon  one  leg, 
WTrite  not  to  time,  but  to  the  poet's  day: 
There's  difference  between  fame,  and  sudden  pay. 
These  men  sing  kingdoms'  falls,  as  if  that  fate 
Used  the  same  force  to  a  village,  and  a  state; 
These  serve  Thyestes'  bloody  supper  in, 
As  if  it  had  only  a  sallad  been: 
Their  Catilines  are  but  fencers,  whose  fights  rise 
Not  to  the  fame  of  battle,  but  of  prize. 
But  thou  still  put'st  true  passions  on;  dost  write 
With  the  same  courage  that  tried  captains  fight; 
Giv'st  the  right  blush  and  color  unto  things, 
Low  without  creeping,  high  without  loss  of  wings; 
Smooth,  yet  not  weak,  and  by  a  thorough  care, 
Big  without  swelling,  without  painting  fair. 
They,  wretches,  while  they  cannot  stand  to  fit 
Are  not  wits,  but  materials  of  wit. 
What  though  thy  searching  wit  did  rake  the  dust 
Of  time,  and  purge  old  metals  of  their  rust? 


232  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Is  it  no  labor,  no  art,  think  they,  to 

Snatch  shipwrecks  from  the  deep,  as  divers  do? 

And  rescue  jewels  from  the  covetous  sand, 

Making  the  seas  hid  wealth  adorn  the  land? 

What  though  thy  culling  muse  did  rob  the  store 

Of  .Greek,  and  Latin  gardens  to  bring  o'er 

Plants  to  thy  native  soil?  their  virtues  were 

Improv'd  far  more,  by  being  planted  here. 

If  thy  still  to  their  essence  doth  refine 

So  many  drugs,  is  not  the  water  thine? 

Thefts  thus  become  just  works;  they  and  their  grace 

Are  wholly  thine :  thus  doth  the  stamp  and  face 

Make  that  the  king's,  that's  ravish'd  from  the  mine; 

In  others  then  'tis  ore,  in  thee  'tis  coin. 

Blest  life  of  authors!  unto  whom  we  owe 
Those  that  we  had,  and  those  that  we  want  too: 
Thou  art  all  so  good,  that  reading  makes  thee  worse, 
And  to  have  writ  so  well's  thine  only  curse. 
Secure  then  of  thy  merit,  thou  didst  hate 
That  servile  base  dependence  upon  fate: 
Success  thou  ne'er  thoughtst  virtue,  nor  that  fit, 
Which  chance,  and  the  age's  fashion  did  make  hit; 
Excluding  those  from  life  in  after  time, 
Who  into  poetry  first  brought  luck  and  rhyme ; 
Who  thought  the  people's  breath  good  air;  styled  name 
What  was  but  noise;  and,  getting  briefs  for  fame, 
Gather'd  the  many's  suffrages,  and  thence 
Made  commendation  a  benevolence. 
Thy  thoughts  were  their  own  laurel,  and  did  win 
That  best  applause  of  being  crown 'd  within. 

And  though  th'  exacting  age,  when  deeper  years 
Had  interwoven  snow  among  thy  hairs, 
Would  not  permit  thou  shouldst  grow  old,  'cause  they 
Ne'er  by  thy  writings  knew  thee  young;  we  may 
Say  justly,  they're  ungrateful,  when  they  more 
Condemn 'd  thee,  'cause  thou  wert  so  good  before. 
Thine  art  was  thine  art's  blur,  and  they'll  confess 
Thy  strong  perfumes  made  them  not  smell  thy  less. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  233 

But,  though  to  err  with  thee  be  no  small  skill, 

And  we  adore  the  last  draughts  of  thy  quill : 

Though  those  thy  thoughts,  which  the  now  queasy  age 

Doth  count  but  clods,  and  refuse  of  the  stage, 

Will  come  up  porcelain-wit  some  hundreds  hence, 

When  there  will  be  more  manners,  and  more  sense; 

Twas  judgment  yet  to  yield,  and  we  afford 

Thy  silence  as  much  fame,  as  once  thy  word: 

Who  like  an  aged  oak,  the  leaves  being  gone, 

Wast  food  before,  art  now  religion ; 

Thought  still  more  rich,  though  not  so  richly  stor'd, 

View'd  and  enjoy'd  before,  but  now  ador'd. 

Great  soul  of  numbers,  whom  we  want  and  boast 
Like  curing  gold,  most  valued  now  thou  art  lost! 
When  we  shall  feed  on  refuse  offals,  when 
We  shall  from  corn  to  acorns  turn  again; 
Then  shall  we  see  that  these  two  names  are  one, 
Jonson  and  Poetry,  which  now  are  gone. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Joseph  Rutter,  1638. 

An  Elegy  upon  Ben  Jonson, 

Now  thou  art  dead,  and  thy  great  wit  and  name 
Is  got  beyond  the  reach  of  chance  or  fame, 
Which  none  can  lessen,  nor  we  bring  enough 
To  raise  it  higher,  through  our  want  of  stuff, 
I  find  no  room  for  praise,  but  elegy, 
And  there  but  name  the  day  when  thou  didst  die: 
That  men  may  know  thou  didst  so,  for  they  will 
Hardly  believe  disease  or  age  could  kill 
A  body  so  inform 'd,  with  such  a  soul, 
As,  like  thy  verse,  might  fate  itself  control. 

But  thou  art  gone,  and  we  like  greedy  heirs, 
That  snatch  the  fruit  of  their  dead  father's  cares, 
Begin  to  enquire  what  means  thou  left'st  behind 
For  us,  pretended  heirs  unto  thy  mind : 
And  myself,  not  the  latest  'gan  to  look 
And  found  the  inventory  in  thy  Book; 


234  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

A  stock  for  writers  to  set  up  withal: 
That  out  of  thy  full  comedies,  their  small 
And  slender  wits  by  vexing  much  thy  writ 
And  their  own  brains,  may  draw  good  saving  wit; 
And  when  they  shall  upon  some  credit  pitch., 
May  be  thought  well  to  live,  although  not  rich. 
Then  for  your  songsters,  masquers,  what  a  deal 
We  have!  enough  to  make  a  commonweal 
Of  dancing  courtiers,  as  if  poetry 
Were  made  to  set  out  their  activity. 
Learning  great  store  for  us  to  feed  upon , 
But  little  fame;  that,  with  thyself,  is  gone, 
And  like  a  desperate  debt,  bequeath'd,  not  paid 
Before  thy  death  has  us  the  poorer  made. 
Whilst  we  with  mighty  labor  it  pursue, 
And  after  all  our  toil  not  find  it  due. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Owen  Feltham,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Immortal  Ben. 
To  write  is  easy;  but  to  write  of  thee 
Truth,  will  be  thought  to  forfeit  modesty. 
So  far  beyond  conceit  thy  strengths  appear, 
That  almost  all  will  doubt,  what  all  must  hear. 
For,  when  the  world  shall  know,  that  Pindar's  height, 
Plautus  his  wit,  and  Seneca's  grave  weight, 
Horace  his  matchless  nerves,  and  that  high  phrase 
Wherewith  great  Lucan  doth  his  readers  maze, 
Shall  with  such  radiant  illustration  glide, 
(As  if  each  line  to  life  were  propertied) 
Through  all  thy  works ;  and  like  a  torrent  move, 
Rolling  the  muses  to  the  court  of  Jove, 
Wit's  general  tribe  will  soon  entitle  thee 
Heir  to  Apollo's  ever  verdant  tree. 
And  'twill  by  all  concluded  be,  the  stage 
Is  widow'd  no.w;  was  bed-rid  by  thy  age. 
As  well  as  empire,  wit  his  zenith  hath, 
Nor  can  the  rage  of  time,  or  tyrant's  wrath 


TO  BEN  JONSON 

Encloud  so  bright  a  flame:  but  it  will  shine 

In  spight  of  envy,  till  it  grow  divine. 

As  when  Augustus  reign 'd,  and  war  did  cease, 

Rome's  bravest  wits  were  usher'd  in  by  peace: 

So  in  our  halcyon  days,  we  have  had  now 

Wits,  to  which,  all  that  after  come,  must  bow. 

And  should  the  stage  compose  herself  a  crown 

Of  all  those,  wits,  which  hitherto  she  has  known : 

Though  there  be  many  that  about  her  brow, 

Like  sparkling  stones,  might  a  quick  lustre  throw; 

Yet,  Shakspeare,  Beaumont,  Jonson,  these  three  shall 

Make  up  the  gem  in  the  point  vertical. 

And  now  since  Jonson's  gone,  we  well  may  say, 

The  stage  hath  seen  her  glory  and  decay. 

Whose  judgment  was't  refined  it?  or  who 

Gave  laws,  by  which  hereafter  all  must  go, 

But  solid  Jonson?  from  whose  full  strong  quill, 

Each  line  did  like  a  diamond  drop  distil, 

Though  hard,  yet  clear.     Thalia  that  had  skipt 

Before,  but  like  a  maygame  girl,  now  stript 

Of  all  her  mimic  jigs,  became  a  sight 

With  mirth  to  flow  each  pleas'd  spectator's  light, 

And  in  such  graceful  measures,  did  discover 

Her  beauties  now,  that  every  eye  turn'd  lover. 

Who  is't  shall  make  with  great  Sejanus'  fall, 
Not  the  stage  crack,  but  th'  universe  and  all? 
Wild  Catiline's  stern  fire,  who  now  shall  show, 
Or  quench 'd  with  milk,  still'd  down  by  Cicero? 
Where  shall  old  authors  in  such  words  be  shown, 
As  vex  their  ghosts,  that  they  are  not  their  own? 

Admit  his  muse  was  slow.     'Tis  judgment's  fate 
To  move,  like  greatest  princes,  still  in  state. 
Those  planets  placed  in  the  higher  spheres, 
End  not  their  motion  but  in  many  years; 
Whereas  light  Venus  and  the  giddy  moon, 
In  one  or  some  few  days  their  courses  run. 
Slow  are  substantial  bodies:  but  to  things 
That  airy  are,  has  nature  added  wings. 


235 


236  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

.       Each  trivial  poet  that  can  chant  a  rhyme, 
May  chatter  out  his  own  wit's  funeral  chime: 
And  those  slight  nothings  that  so  soon  are  made, 
Like  mushrooms,  may  together  live  and  fade. 
The  boy  may  make  a  squib ;  but  every  line 
Must  be  consider'd,  where  men  spring  a  mine: 
And  to  write  things  that  time  can  never  stain, 
Will  require  sweat,  and  rubbing  of  the  brain. 
Such  were  those  things  he  left.     For  some  may  be 
Eccentric,  yet  with  axioms  main  agree. 
This  I'll  presume  to  say.     When  time  has  made 
Slaughter  of  kings  that  in  the  world  have  sway'd : 
A  greener  bays  shall  crown  Ben  Jonson's  name, 
Than  shall  be  wreath 'd  about  their  regal  fame. 
For  numbers  reach  to  infinite.     But  he 
Of  whom  I  write  this,  has  prevented  me, 
And  boldly  said  so  much  in  his  own  praise, 
No  other  pen  need  any  trophy  raise. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

George  Donne,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  oj  Ben  Jonson. 
I  do  not  blame  their  pains,  who  did  not  doubt 
By  labor,  of  the  circle  to  find  out 
The  quadrature;  nor  can  I  think  it  strange 
That  others  should  prove  constancy  in  change. 
He  studied  not  in  vain,  who  hoped  to  give 
A  body  to  the  echo,  make  it  live, 
Be  seen,  and  felt;   nor  he  whose  art  would  borrow 
Belief  for  shaping  yesterday,  to-morrow: 
But  here  I  yield;  invention,  study,  cost, 
Time,  and  the  art  of  Art  itself  is  lost. 
When  any  frail  ambition  undertakes 
For  honor,  profit,  praise,  or  all  their  sakes, 
To  speak  unto  the  world  in  perfect  sense, 
Pure  judgment,  Jonson,  'tis  an  excellence 
Suited  his  pen  alone,  which  yet  to  do 
Requires  himself,  and  'twere  a  labor  too 


TO  BEN  JONSON  237 

Crowning  the  best  of  Poets:  say  all  sorts 

Of  bravest  acts  must  die,  without  reports, 

Count  learned  knowledge  barren,  fame  abhorr'd, 

Let  memory  be  nothing  but  a  word ; 

Grant  Jonson  the  only  genius  of  the  times, 

Fix  him  a  constellation  in  all  rhymes, 

All  height,  all  secrecies  of  wit  invoke 

The  virtue  of  his  name,  to  ease  the  yoke 

Of  barbarism ;  yet  this  lends  only  praise 

To  such  as  write,  but  adds  not  to  his  bays: 
For  he  will  grow  more  fresh  in  every  story, 
Out  of  the  perfum'd  spring  of  his  own  glory. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Shackerley  Marmion,  1638. 

A  Funeral  Sacrifice  to  the  Sacred  Memory  of  his  Thrice  Honored 

Father,  Ben  Jonson. 

I  cannot  grave,  nor  carve;  else  would  I  give 
Thee  statues,  sculptures,  and  thy  name  should  live 
In  tombs,  and  brass,  until  the  stones,  or  rust 
Of  thine  own  monument  mix  with  thy  dust: 
But  nature  has  afforded  me  a  slight 
And  easy  muse,  yet  one  that  takes  her  flight 
Above  the  vulgar  pitch.     Ben,  she  was  thine, 
Made  by  adoption  free  and  genuine; 
By  virtue  of  thy  charter,  which  from  heaven, 
By  Jove  himself,-  before  thy  birth  was  given. 
The  sisters  nine  this  secret  did  declare, 
Who  of  Jove's  counsel,  and  his  daughters  are. 
These  from  Parnassus'  hill  came  running  down, 
And  though  an  infant  did  with  laurels  crown. 
Thrice  they  him  kist,  and  took  him  in  their  arms, 
And  dancing  round,  encircled  him  with  charms. 
Pallas  her  virgin  breast  did  thrice  distil 
Into  his  lips,  and  him  with  nectar  fill. 
When  he  grew  up  to  years,  his  mind  was  all 
On  verses;  verses,  that  the  rocks  might  call 


238  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

To  follow  him,  and  hell  itself  command, 

And  wrest  Jove's  three-fold  thunder  from  his  hand. 

The  satyrs  oft-times  hemm'd  him  in  a  ring, 

And  gave  him  pipes  and  reeds  to  hear  him  sing; 

Whose  vocal  notes,  tun'd  to  Apollo's  lyre, 

The  syrens  and  the  muses  did  admire. 

The  nymphs  to  him  their  gems  and  corals  sent; 

And  did  with  swans  and  nightingales  present 

Gifts  far  beneath  his  worth.     The  golden  ore, 

That  lies  on  Tagus  or  Pactolus'  shore, 

Might  not  compare  with  him,  nor  that  pure  sand 

The  Indians  find  upon  Hydaspes'  strand. 

His  fruitful  raptures  shall  grow  up  to  seed, 

And  as  the  ocean  does  the  rivers  feed, 

So  shall  his  wit's  rich  veins,  the  world  supply 

With  unexhausted  wealth,  and  ne'er  be  dry. 

For  whether  he,  like  a  fine  thread  does  file 

His  terser  poems  in  a  comic  style, 

Or  treats  of  tragic  furies,  and  him  list, 

To  draw  his  lines  out  with  a  stronger  twist: 

Minerva's,  nor  Arachne's  loom  can  shew 

Such  curious  tracts ;  nor  does  the  spring  bestow 

Such  glories  on  the  field,  or  Flora's  bowers, 

As  his  work  smile  with  figures,  and  with  flowers. 

Never  did  so  much  strength,  or  such  a  spell 

Of  art,  and  eloquence  of  papers  dwell. 

For  whilst  that  he  in  colors,  full  and  true, 

Men's  natures,  fancies,  and  their  humors  drew 

In  method,  order,  matter,  sense  and  grace, 

Fitting  each  person  to  his  time  and  place; 

Knowing  to  move,  to  slack,  or  to  make  haste, 

Binding  the  middle  with  the  first  and  last: 

He  framed  all  minds,  and  did  all  passions  stir, 

And  with  a  bridle  guide  the  theatre. 

To  say  now  he  is  dead,  or  to  maintain 
A  paradox  he  lives,  were  labor  vain : 
Earth  must  to  earth.     But  his  fair  soul  does  wear 
Bright  Ariadne's  crown;  or  is  placed  near 


TO  BEN  JONSON  239 

Where  Orpheus'  harp  turns  round  with  Laeda's  swan : 

Astrologers,  demonstrate  where  you  can, 

Where  his  star  shines,  and  what  part  of  the  sky 

Holds  his  compendious  divinity. 

There  he  is  fix'd;  I  know  it,  'cause  from  thence, 

Myself  have  lately  receiv'd  influence. 

The  reader  smiles;  but  let  no  man  deride 

The  emblem  of  my  love,  not  of  my  pride. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

John  Ford,  1638. 

On  the  Best  of  English  Poets,  Ben  Jonson,  Deceased. 
So  seems  a  star  to  shoot :  when  from  our  sight 
Falls  the  deceit,  not  from  its  loss  of  light; 
We  want  use  of  a  soul,  who  merely  know 
What  to  our  passion,  or  our  sense  we  owe: 
By  such  a  hollow  glass,  our  cozen 'd  eye 
Concludes  alike,  all  dead,  whom  it  sees  die. 
Nature  is  knowledge  here,  but  unrefin'd, 
Both  differing,  as  the  body  from  the  mind; 
Laurel  and  cypress  else,  had  grown  together, 
And  wither'd  without  memory  to  either: 
Thus  undistinguish'd,  might  in  every  part 
The  sons  of  earth  vie  with  the  sons  of  art. 
Forbid  it,  holy  reverence,  to  his  name, 
Whose  glory  hath  fill'd  up  the  book  of  fame! 
Where  in  fair  capitals,  free,  uncontroll'd, 
Jonson,  a  work  of  honor  lives  enroll'd: 
Creates  that  book  a  work;  adds  this  far  more, 
'Tis  finish'd  what  unperfect  was  before. 
The  muses,  first  in  Greece  begot,  in  Rome 
Brought  forth,  our  best  of  poets  hath  call'd  home, 
Nurst,  taught,  and  planted  here;   that  Thames  now  sings 
The  Delphian  altars,  and  the  sacred  springs. 
By  influence  of  this  sovereign,  like  the  spheres, 
Moved  each  by  other,  the  most  low  (in  years) 
Consented, in  their  harmony;  though  some 
Malignantly  aspected,  overcome 


240  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

With  popular  opinion,  aim'd  at  name 
More  than  desert:  yet  in  despight  of  shame 
Even  they,  though  foil'd  by  his  contempt  of  wrongs, 
Made  music  to  the  harshness  of  their  songs. 

Drawn  to  the  life  of  every  line  and  limb, 
He  (in  his  truth  of  art,  and  that  in  him) 
Lives  yet,  and  will,  whilst  letters  can  be  read; 
The  loss  is  ours;  now  hope  of  life  is  dead. 
Great  men,  and  worthy  of  report,  must  fall 
Into  their  earth,  and  sleeping  there  sleep  all: 
Since  he,  whose  pen  in  every  strain  did  use 
To  drop  a  verse,  and  every  verse  a  muse, 
Is  vow'd  to  heaven ;  as  having  with  fair  glory, 
Sung  thanks  of  honor,  or  some  nobler  story. 
The  court,  the  university,  the  heat 
Of  theatres,  with  what  can  else  beget 
Belief,  and  admiration,  clearly  prove 
Our  Poet  first  in  merit,  as  in  love: 

Yet  if  he  do  not  at  his  full  appear, 

Survey  him  in  his  Works,  and  know  him  there. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Ralph  Bridecake,  1638. 

Upon  the  Death  of  Master  Ben  Jonson. 
Tis  not  secure  to  be  too  learn 'd,  or  good, 
These  are  hard  names,  and  now  sc'arce  understood 
Dull  flagging  souls  with  lower  parts,  may  have 
The  vain  ostents  of  pride  upon  their  grave, 
Cut  with  some  fair  inscription,  and  true  cry, 
That  both  the  man  and  Epitaph  there  lie! 
Whilst  those  that  soar  above  the  vulgar  pitch, 
And  are  not  in  their  bags,  but  studies  rich, 
Must  fall  without  a  line,  and  only  be 
A  theme  of  wonder,  not  of  poetry. 
He  that  dares  praise  the  eminent,  he  must 
Either  be  such,  or  but  revile  their  dust; 
And  so  must  we,  great  Genius  of  brave  verse ! 
With  our  inj  urious  zeal  profane  thy  herse. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  241 

It  is  a  task  above  our  skill,  if  we 

Presume  to  mourn  our  own  dead  elegy ; 

Wherein,  like  bankrupts  in  the  stock  of  fame, 

To  patch  our  credit  up,  we  use  thy  name; 

Or  cunningly  to  make  our  dross  to  pass, 

Do  set  a  jewel  in  a  foil  of  brass: 

No,  'tis  the  glory  of  thy  well-known  name, 

To  be  eternized,  not  in  verse  but  fame. 

Jonson!  that's  weight  enough  to  crown  thy  stone: 

And  make  the  marble  piles  to  sweat  and  groan 

Under  the  heavy  load!  a  name  shall  stand 

Fix'd  to  thy  tomb,  till  time's  destroying  hand 

Crumble  our  dust  together,  and  this  all 

Sink  to  its  grave,  at  the  great  funeral. 

If  some  less  learned  age  neglect  thy  pen, 
Eclipse  thy  flames,  and  lose  the  name  of  Ben, 
In  spight  of  ignorance  thou  must  survive 
In  thy  fair  progeny;  that  shall  revive 
Thy  scatter'd  ashes  in  the  skirts  of  death, 
And  to  thy  fainting  name  give  a  new  breath ; 
That  twenty  ages  after,  men  shall  say 
(If  the  world's  story  reach  so  long  a  day,) 
Pindar  and  Plautus  with  their  double  quire 
Have  well  translated  Ben  the  English  lyre. 

What  sweets  were  in  the  Greek  or  Latin  known. 
A  natural  metaphor  has  made  thine  own: 
Their  lofty  language  in  thy  phrase  so  drest, 
And  neat  conceits  in  our  own  tongue  exprest, 
That  ages  hence,  critics  shall  question  make 
Whether  the  Greeks  and  Romans  English  spake. 
And  though  thy  fancies  were  too  high  for  those 
That  but  aspire  to  Cockpit-flight,  or  prose, 
Though  the  fine  plush  and  velvets  of  the  age 
Did  oft  for  sixpence  damn  thee  from  the  stage, 
And  with  their  mast  and  acorn  stomachs  ran 
To  the  nasty  sweepings  of  thy  serving-man, 
Before  thy  cates,  and  swore  thy  stronger  food, 
'Cause  not  by  them  digested,  was  not  good; 
17 


242  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

These  moles  thy  scorn  and  pity  did  but  raise, 
They  were  as  fit  to  judge  as  we  to  praise. 
Were  all  the  choice  of  wit  and  language  shown 
In  one  brave  epitaph  upon  thy  stone, 
Had  learned  Donne,  Beaumont,  and  Randolph,  all 
Survived  thy  fate,  and  sung  thy  funeral, 
Their  notes  had  been  too  low;  take  this  from  me, 
None  but  thyself  could  write  a  verse  for  thee. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Richard  West,  1638. 
On  Master  Ben  Jonson. 
Poet  of  princes,  Prince  of  poets  (we, 
If  to  Apollo,  well  may  pray  to  thee), 
Give  glow-worms  leave  to  peep,  who  till  thy  night 
Could  not  be  seen,  we  darken'd  were  with  light. 
For  stars  t'  appear  after  the  fall  of  the  sun, 
Is  at  the  least  modest  presumption. 
I've  seen  a  great  lamp  lighted  by  the  small 
Spark  of  a  flint,  found  in  a  field  or  wall. 
Our  thinner  verse  faintly  may  shadow  forth 
A  dull  reflection  of  thy  glorious  worth : 
And  (like  a  statue  homely  fashion'd)  raise 
Some  trophies  to  thy  memocy,  though  not  praise. 
Those  shallow  sirs,  who  want  sharp  sight  to  look 
On  the  majestic  splendor  of  thy  book, 
That  rather  choose  to  hear  an  Archy's  prate, 
Than  the  full  sense  of  a  learn'd  laureat, 
May,  when  they  see  thy  name  thus  plainly  writ, 
Admire  the  solemn  measures  of  thy  wit, 
And  like  thy  works  beyond  a  gaudy  show 
Of  boards  and  canvas,  wrought  by  Inigo. 
Ploughmen  who  puzzled  are  with  figures,  come 
By  tallies  to  the  reckoning  of  a  sum ; 
And  milk-sop  heirs,  which  from  their  mother's  lap 
Scarce  travell'd,  know  far  countries  by  a  map. 

Shakspeare  may  make  grief  merry,  Beaumont's  style 
Ravish  and  melt  anger  into  a  smile; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  243 

In  winter  nights,  or  after  meals  they  be, 

I  must  confess,  very  good  company: 

But  thou  exact'st  our  best  hours  industry; 

We  may  read  them;  we  ought  to  study  thee: 

Thy  scenes  are  precepts,  every  verse  doth  give 

Counsel,  and  teach  us  not  to  laugh,  but  live. 

Thou  that  with  towering  thoughts  presum'st  so  high, 
(S well'd  with  a  vain  ambitious  tympany) 
To  dream  on  sceptres,  whose  brave  mischief  calls 
The  blood  of  kings  to  their  last  funerals, 
Learn  from  Sejanus  his  high  fall,  to  prove 
To  thy  dread  sovereign  a  sacred  love; 
Let  him  suggest  a  reverend  fear  to  thee, 
And  may  his  tragedy  thy  lecture  be. 
Learn  the  compendious  age  of  slippery  power 
That's  built  on  blood ;  and  may  one  little  hour 
Teach  thy  bold  rashness  that  it  is  not  safe 
To  build  a  kingdom  on  a  Caesar's  grave. 

Thy  plays  were  whipt  and  libell'd,  only  'cause 
They  are  good,  and  savor  of  our  kingdom's  laws. 
Histrio-Mastix  (lightning  like)  doth  wound 
Those  things  alone  that  solid  are  and  sound. 
Thus  guilty  men  hate  justice;  so  a  glass 
Is  sometimes  broke  for  shewing  a  foul  face. 
There's  none  that  wish  thee  rods  instead  of  bays, 
But  such,  whose  very  hate  adds  to  thy  praise. 

Let  scribblers  (that  write  post,  and  versify 
With  no  more  leisure  than  we  cast  a  dye) 
Spur  on  their  Pegasus,  and  proudly  cry, 
This  verse  I  made  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
Thou  couldst  have  done  so,  hadst  thou  thought  it  fit; 
But  'twas  the  wisdom  of  thy  muse  to  sit 
And  weigh  each  syllable;  suffering  nought  to  pass 
But  what  could  be  no  better  than  it  was. 
Those  that  keep  pompous  state  ne'er  go  in  haste; 
Thou  went'st  before  them  all,  though  not  so  fast. 
While  their  poor  cobweb-stuff  finds  as  quick  fate 
As  birth,  and  sells  like  almanacks  out  of  date; 


244  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  marble  glory  of  thy  labor' d  rhyme 

Shall  live  beyond  the  calendar  of  time. 

Who  will  their  meteors  'bove  thy  sun  advance? 

Thine  are  the  works  of  judgment,  theirs  of  chance. 

How  this  whole  kingdom's  in  thy  debt!  we  have 

From  others  periwigs  and  paints,  to  save 

Our  ruin'd  sculls  and  faces;  but  to  thee 

We  owe  our  tongues,  and  fancies'  femedy. 

Thy  poems  make  us  poets;  we  may  lack 

(Reading  thy  Book)  stolen  sentences  and  sack. 

He  that  can  but  one  speech  of  thine  rehearse, 

Whether  he  will  or  no,  must  make  a  verse: 

Thus  trees  give  fruit,  the  kernels  of  that  fruit, 

Do  bring  forth  trees,  which  in  more  branches  shoot. 

Our  canting  English,  of  itself  alone, 
{I  had  almost  said  a  confusion) 
Is  now  all  harmony ;  what  we  did  say 
Before  was  tuning  only,  this  is  play. 
Strangers,  who  cannot  reach  thy  sense,  will  throng 
To  hear  us  speak  the  accents  of  thy  tongue 
As  unto  birds  that  sing;  if't  be  so  good 
When  heard  alone,  what  is't  when  understood! 
Thou  shalt  be  read  as  classic  authors;  and, 
As  Greek  and  Latin,  taught  in  every  land. 
The  cringing  Monsieur  shall  thy  language  vent, 
When  he  would  melt  his  wench  with  compliment. 
Using  thy  phrases  he  may  have  his  wish 
Of  a  coy  nun,  without  an  angry  pish! 
And  yet  in  all  thy  poems  there  is  shown 
Such  chastity,  that  every  line's  a  zone. 
Rome  will  confess  that  thou  mak'st  Caesar  talk 
In  greater  state  and  pomp  than  he  could  walk: 
Catiline's  tongue  is  the  true  edge  of  swords, 
We  now  not  only  hear,  but  feel  his  words. 
Who  Tully  in  thy  idiom  understands, 
Will  swear  that  his  orations  are  commands. 

But  that  which  could  with  richer  language  press 
The  highest  sense,  cannot  thy  worth  express. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  245 

Had  I  thy  own  invention  (which  affords 
Words  above  action,  matter  above  words) 

To  crown  thy  merits,  I  should  only  be 

Sumptuously  poor,  low  in  hyperbole. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Robert  Meade,  1638. 

To  the  Memory  of  Benjamin  Jonson, 
Our  bays,  methinks,  are  wither'd,  and  they  look 
As  if,  (though  thunder- free)  with  envy,  strook; 
While  the  triumphant  cypress  boasts  to  be 
Design 'd,  as  fitter  for  thy  company. 

Where  shall  we  now  find  one  dares  boldly  write, 
Free  from  base  flattery  yet  as  void  of  spight? 
That  grovels  not  in's  satires,  but  soars  high, 
Strikes  at  the  mounting  vices,  can  descry 
With  his  quick  eagle's  pen  those  glorious  crimes, 
That  either  dazzle,  or  affright  the  times? 
Thy  strength  of  judgment  oft  did  thwart  the  tide 
O'  the  foaming  multitude,  when  to  their  side 
Throng'd  plush,  and  silken  censures,  whilst  it  chose 
(As  that  which  could  distinguish  men  from  clothes, 
Faction  from  judgment)  still  to  keep  thy  bays 
From  the  suspicion  of  a  vulgar  praise. 

But  why  wrong  I  thy  memory  whilst  I  strive, 
In  such  a  verse  as  mine  to  keep't  alive? 
Well  we  may  toil,  and  shew  our  wits  the  rack, 
Torture  our  needy  fancies,  yet  still  lack 

Worthy  expressions  thy  great  loss  to  moan ; 

Being  none  can  fully  praise  thee  but  thy  own. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

H.  Ramsay,  1638. 

Upon  the  Death  of  Benjamin  Jonson. 
Let  thine  own  Sylla,  Ben,  arise,  and  try 
To  teach  my  thoughts  an  angry  extasy, 


246  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

That  I  may  fright  Contempt,  and  with  just  darts 

Of  fury  stick  thy  palsy  in  their  hearts! 

But  why  do  I  rescue  thy  name  from  those 

That  only  cast  away  their  ears  in  prose? 

Or,  if  some  better  brain  arrive  so  high, 

To  venture  rhymes,  'tis  but  court  balladry, 

Singing  thy  death  in  such  an  uncouth  tone, 

As  it  had  been  an  execution. 

What  are  his  faults  (O  envy!) — That  you  speak 

English  at  court,  the  learned  stage  acts  Greek? 

That  Latin  he  reduced,  and  could  command 

That  which  your  Shakspeare  scarce  could  understand? 

That  he  exposed  you,  zealots,  to  make  known 

Your  profanation,  and  not  his  own? 

That  one  of  such  a  fervent  nose,  should  be 

Posed  by  a  puppet  in  Divinity? 

Fame,  write  them  on  his  tomb,  and  let  him  have 

Their  accusations  for  an  epitaph : 

Nor  think  it  strange  if  such  thy  scenes  defy, 

That  erect  scaffolds  'gainst  authority. 

Who  now  will  plot  to  cozen  vice,  and  tell 

The  trick  and  policy  of  doing  well? 

Others  may  please  the  stage,  his  sacred  fire 

Wise  men  did  rather  worship  than  admire: 

His  lines  did  relish  mirth,  but  so  severe, 

That  as  they  tickled,  they  did  wound  the  ear. 

Well  then,  such  virtue  cannot  die,  though  stones 

Loaded  with  epitaphs  do  press  his  bones : 

He  lives  to  me;  spite  of  this  martyrdom, 

Ben,  is  the  self-same  poet  in  the  tomb. 

You  that  can  aldermen  new  wits  create, 

Know,  Jonson's  skeleton  is  laureat. 

[Jonsonus  Virbiiis,  1638.! 


TO  BEN  JONSON  247 

Sir  Francis  Wortley,  1638. 
En 

JONSONUS   NOSTER 

Lyricorum  Drammaticorumque 
Coryphaeus 

Qui 

Pallade  auspice 

Laurum  &  Graecia  ipsaque  Roma 
rapuit, 

Et 

Fausto  omine 

In  Britanniam  transtulit 

nostram : 

Nunc 

Invidia  major 

Fato,  non  ^Emulis 

cessit. 

Anno  Dom.  CI3DIXXXVII. 
Id.  Nonar. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Thomas  Terrent,  1638. 

In  Obitum  Ben  Jonsoni  Poetarum  Facile  Principis. 

In  quae  projicior  discrimina?  quale  trementem 
Traxit  in  officium  pietas  temeraria  musam? 
Me  miserum!  incusso  pertentor  frigore,  et  umbra 
Territus  ingenti  videor  pars  funeris  ipse 
Quod  celebro;  famae  concepta  mole  fatisco, 
Exiguumque  strues  restringuit  praegravis  ignem. 

Non  tamen  absistarn,  nam  si  spes  talibus  ausis 
Excidat,  extabo  laudum  Jonsone  tuarum 
Uberior  testis:  totidem  quos  secula  norunt, 
Solus  tu  dignus,  cujus  praeconia  spiret, 
Deliquum  musarum,  et  victi  facta  poetae. 

Quis  nescit,  Romane,  tuos  in  utraque  triumphos 


248  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Militia,  laurique  decus  mox  sceptra  secutum? 
Virgilius  quoque  Caesar  erat,  nee  ferre  priorem 
Noverat:  Augustum  fato  dilatus  in  aevum, 
Ut  regem  vatem  jactares  regia,  teque 
Suspiceres  gemino  prselustrem  Roma  monarcha. 

En  penitus  toto  divisos  orbe  Britannos, 
Munera  jactantes  eadem,  similique  beatos 
Fortuna;  haec  quoque  secla  suum  videre  Maronem, 
Caesarei  vixit  qui  laetus  imagine  sceptri, 
Implevitque  suum  Romano  carmine  nomen. 

Utque  viam  cernas,  longosque  ad  summa  paratus, 
En  series  eadem,  vatumque  simillimus  ordo. 
Quis  neget  incultum  Lucreti  carmen,  et  Enni 
Deformes  numeros,  musae  incrementa  Latinae? 

Haud  aliter  nostri  praemissa  in  principis  ortum 
Ludicra  Chauceri,  classisque  incompta  sequentum; 
Nascenti  apta  parum  divina  haec  machina  regno, 
In  nostrum  servanda  fuit  tantaeque  decebat 
Praelusisse  Deos  aevi  certamina  famae ; 
Nee  geminos  vates,  nee  te  Shakspeare  silebo, 
Aut  quicquid  sacri  nostros  conjecit  in  annos 
Consilium  fati :  per  seros  ite  nepotes 
Illustres  animae,  demissaque  nomina  semper 
Candidior  fama  excipiat;  sed  parcite  divi, 
Si  majora  vocant,  si  pagina  sanctior  urget. 
Est  vobis  decor,  et  nativae  gratia  Musae, 
Quae  trahit  atque  tenet,  quae  me  modo  laeta  remittit, 
Excitum  modo  in  alta  rapit,  versatque  legentem. 

Sed  quam  te  memorem  vatum  Deus:  O  nova  gentis 
Gloria  et  ignoto  turgescens  musa  cothurno! 
Quam  solidat  vires,  quam  pingui  robore  surgens 
Invaditque  hauritque  animam:  baud  temerarius  ille 
Qui  mos  est  reliquis,  probat  obvia,  magnaque  fundit 
Felici  tantum  genio;  sed  destinat  ictum, 
Sed  vafer  et  sapiens  cunctator  praevia  sternit, 
Furtivoque  gradu  subvectus  in  ardua,  tandem 
Dimittit  pleno  correptos  fulmine  sensus. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  249 

Hue,  precor,  accedat  quisquis  primo  igne  calentem 
Ad  numeros  sua  musa  vocat,  nondumque  subacti 
Ingenii  novitate  tumens  in  carmina  fertur 
Non  normae  legisve  memor;  quis  ferre  soluti 
Naufragium  ingenii  poterit,  mentisque  ruinam? 
Quanto  pulchrior  hie  mediis  qui  regnat  in  undis, 
Turbine  correptus  nullo:  cui  spiritus  ingens 
Non  artem  vincit:  medio  sed  verus  in  cestro, 
Princeps  insano  pugnantem  numine  musam 
Edomat,  et  cudit  suspense  metra  furore. 

In  rabiem  Catilina  tuam  conversus  et  artes 
Qualia  molitur;  quali  bacchatur  hiatu? 
En  mugitum  oris,  conjurat  aeque  Camoenae, 
Divinas  furias  et  non  imitabile  fulmen! 
O  verum  Ciceronis  opus,  linguaeque  disertse 
Elogium  spirans!     O  vox  aeterna  Catonis, 
Caesaream  reserans  fraudem,  retrahensque  sequaces 
Patricios  in  caedem,  et  funera  certa  reorum! 
Quis  fando  expediat  primae  solennia  pompae, 
Et  circumfusi  studium  plaususque  theatri? 
Non  tu  divini  Cicero  dux  inclyte  facti, 
Romave  majores  vidit  servata  triumphos. 

Celsior  incedis  nostro,  Sejane,  cothurno 
Quam  te  Romani,  quam  te  tua  fata  ferebant: 
Hinc  magis  insigni  casu,  celebrique  ruina 
Volveris,  et  gravius  terrent  exempla  theatri. 

At  tu  stas  nunquam  ruituro  in  culmine  vates, 
Despiciens  auras,  et  fallax  numen  amici, 
Tutus  honore  tuo,  genitaeque  volumine  famae. 
A  Capreis  verbosa  et  grandis  epistola  frustra 
Venerat,  offense  major  fruerere  Tonante, 
Si  sic  crevisses,  si  sic,  Sejane,  stetisses. 
O  fortunatum,  qui  te,  Jonsone,  sequutus 
Contexit  sua  fila,  suique  est  nominis  author. 

[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


250  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Robert  Waring,  1638. 

Vatum  Principi  Ben.  Jonsono  Sacrum. 
Poetarum  Maxime! 
Sive  tu  mortem,  sive  ecstasin  passus, 
Jaces  verendum  et  plus  quam  hominis  funus. 

Sic  post  receptam  sacri  furoris  gloriam, 
Cum  exhaustum  jam  numen  decoxit  emerita  vates 
Jugique  fluxu  non  reditura  se  prodegit  anima, 

Jacuit  Sibyllae  cadaver, 
Vel  trepidis  adhuc  cultoribus  consulendum. 
Nulli  se  longius  indulsit  Deus,  nulli  aegrius  valedixit; 
Pares  testatus  flammas, 
Dum  exul,  ac  dum  incola. 
Annorumque  jam  ingruente  vespere, 
Pectus  tuum,  tanquam  poeseos  horizonta, 

Non  sine  rubore  suo  reliquit: 
Vatibus  nonnullis  ingentia  prodere;  nee  scire  datur: 

Magnum  aliis  mysterium,  majus  sibi, 
Ferarum  ritu  vaticinantium 

Inclusum  jactant  numen  quod  nesciunt, 

Et  instinctu  sapiunt  non  intellecto. 
Quibus  dum  ingenium  facit  audacia,  prodest  ignorare. 
Tibi  primo  contigit  furore  frui  proprio, 

Et  numen  regere  tuum. 
Dum  pari  lucta  afflatibus  indicium  commisisti, 

Bis  entheatus: 
Aliasque  musis  mutas  addidisti,  artes  et  scientias, 

Tui  plenus  poeta. 
Qui  furorem  insanise  eximens 
Docuisti,  et  sobrie  Aonios  latices  hauriri. 

Primus  omnium, 

Qui  effrsenem  caloris  luxuriem  frugi  consilio  castigaveris, 
Ut  tandem  ingenium  sine  venia  placiturum 
Possideret  Britannia, 
Miraretur  orbis, 

Nihilque  inveniret  scriptis  tuis  donandum,  prseter  famam. 
Quod  prologi  igitur 


TO  BEN  JONSON  251 

Velut  magnatum  propylaea  domini  titulos  proferunt, 
Perpetuumque  celebratur  argumentum,  ipse  author, 
Non  arrogantis  hoc  est,  sed  judicantis, 

Aut  vaticinantis, 

Virtutis  enim  illud  et  vatis  est,  sibi  placere. 
Proinde  non  invidia  tantum  nostra,  sed  laude  tua 
Magnum  te  prodire  jusserunt  fata. 
Qui  integrum  nobis  poetam  solus  exhibuisti, 

Unusque  omnes  exprimens. 

Cum  frondes  alii  laureas  decerpunt,  tu  totum  nemus  vindicas, 
Nee  adulator  laudas,  nee  invidus  perstringis 

Utrumque  exosus, 

Vel  sacrificio  tuo  mella,  vel  medicinae  acetum  immiscere. 
Nee  intenso  nimis  spiritu  avenam  dirupisti, 
Nee  exili  nimis  tubam  emaculasti ; 
Servatis  utrinque  legibus,  lex  ipse  factus. 
Una  obsequii  religione  imperium  nactus  es : 

Rerum  servus,  non  temporum. 
Ita  omnium  musarum  amasius, 
Omnibus  perpetuum  certamen  astas. 

Sit  Homeri  gloria 

Urbes  de  se  certantes  habere,  de  te  disputant  musae, 
Qui  seu  cothurno  niteris,  inter  poetas  tonans  pater, 
Sive  soccum  pede  comples  rotundo, 
Et  epigrammata  dictas  agenda, 
Facetiasque  manibus  exprimendas, 
Adoranda  posteris  ducis  vestigia,  et  nobis   unus  es  theatrum 

metari. 
Non  arenae  spectacula  scena  exhibuit  tua, 

Nee  poemata,  sed  poesin  ipsam  parturiit, 
Populoque  mentes,  et  leges  ministravit, 
Quibus  te  damnare  possent,  si  tu  poteras  peccare. 
Sic  et  oculos  spectanti  praestas,  et  spectacula; 
Scenamque  condis  quae  legi  magis  gestiat  quam  spectari. 
Non  histrioni  suum  delitura  ingenium, 

Alii,  queis  nullus  Apollo,  sed  Mercurius  numen, 
Quibus  afflatus  praestant  vinum  et  amasia, 


252  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Truduntque  in  scenam  vitia,  morbo  poetae. 
Quibus  musa  pagis  primisque  plaustris  apta, 
Praemoriturum  vati  carmen, 
Non  edunt,  sed  abortiunt; 
Cui  ipsum  etiam  praelum  conditorium  est, 
Novaque  lucinae  fraude  in  tenebras  emittuntur  authores, 

Dum  poemata  sic  ut  diaria, 
Suo  tantum  anno  et  regioni  effingunt, 
Sic  quoque  Plauti  moderni  sales, 
Ipsi  tantum  Plauto  (rvyxpovoi: 
Et  vernaculae  nimium  Aristophanis  facetiae 
Non  extra  suum  theatrum  plausus  invenerunt: 

Tu  interim 

Saeculi  spiras  quoque  post  futuri  genium. 
Idemque  tuum  et  orbis  theatrum  est. 
Dum  immensum,  cumque  lectore  crescens  carmen, 

Et  perenne  uno  fundis  poema  verbo, 
Tuas  tibi  gratulamur  fcelices  moras! 
Quanquam  quid  moras   reprehendimus,  quas    nostri  fecit  reve- 

rentia? 
^Eternum  scribi  debuit  quicquid  aeternum  legi. 

Poteras  tu  solus 

Stylo  sceptris  majore  orbem  moderari. 
Romae  Britannos  subjugavit  gladius, 

Romam  Britannis  calamus  tuus, 
Quam  sic  vinci  gestientem, 

Cothurno  Angliaco  sublimiorem  quam  suis  collibus  cernimus. 
Demum  quod  majus  est,  aetatem  nobis  nostram  subjicis; 

.  Oraculique  vicarius, 

Quod  jussit  Deus,  fides  praestat  sacerdos, 
Homines  seipsos  noscere  instituens. 

Lingua  nostra 

Tibi  collectanea  tecum  crevit, 
Vocesque  patrias,  et  tuas  simul  formasti. 
Nee  indigenam  amplius,  sed  Jonsoni  jactamus  facundiam, 
Ut  inde  semper  tibi  contingat  tua  lingua  celebrari ; 

Qui  et  Romam 
Disertiores  docuisti  voces. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  253 

Mancipiali  denuo  iocomate  superbientem, 

Graeciamque  etiam 
Orbis  magistram  excoluisti, 
Nunc  alia  quam  Attic&  Minerva  eloquentem. 
Te  solo  dives  poteras  aliorum  ingenia  contemnere, 
Et  vel  sine  illis  evasisses  ingenii  compendium : 

Sed  ut  ille  pictor, 

Mundo  daturus  par  ideae  exemplar, 
Quas  hinc  et  inde  pulchritudines 
Sparserat  natura, 
Collegit  artifex: 

Formseque  rivulos  palantes  in  unum  cogens  oceanum, 
Inde  exire  jussit  alteram  sine  naevo  Venerem. 

Ita  tibi  parem  machinam  molito, 
In  hoc  etiam  ut  pictura  erat  poesis: 
Alii  inde  authores  materies  ingenio  tuo  accedunt, 
Tu  illis  ars,  et  lima  adderis. 
Et  si  poetae  audient  illi,  tu  ipsa  poesis; 

Authorum  non  alius  calamus,  sed  author. 
Scriptores  diu  sollicitos  teipso  tandem  docens, 
.     Quern  debeat  genium  habere  victurus  liber. 
Qui  praecesserunt,  quotquot    erant,  viarum  tan  turn  judices  fue- 

runt: 

Tu  solum  Columna. 

Quae  prodest  aliis  virtus,  obstat  domino ; 
Et  qui  caeteros  emendatius  transcripseras 

Ipse  transcribi  nescis. 
Par  prioribus  congressus,  futuris  impar 

Scenae  Perpetuus  Dictator. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

William  Bew,  1638. 
Epitaphium  in  Ben.  Jonson. 
Adsta,  hospes!  pretium  morae  est,  sub  isto 
Quid  sit,  discere,  conditum  sepulchre. 
Socci  deliciae ;  decus  cothurni ; 
Scenae  pompa;  cor  et  caput  theatri; 


254  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Linguarum  sacer  helluo;  perennis 
Defluxus  venerum;  scatebra  salsi 
Currens  lene  joci,  sed  innocentis; 
Artis  perspicuum  jubar;  coruscum 
Sydus;  judicii  pumex,  profundus 
Doctrinae  puteus,  tamen  serenus; 
Scriptorum  genius;  poeticus  dux, 
Quantum  O  sub  rigido  latet  lapillo! 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Samuel  Evans,  1638. 

In  Obitum  Ben.  Jonson. 
Nee  sic  excidimus:  pars  tantum  vilior  audit 
Imperium  Libitina  tuum,  caelestior  urget 
yEthereos  tractus,  mediasque  supervolat  auras, 
Et  velut  effusum  spissa  inter  nubila  lumen 
Ingenii  strictura  micat:  foelicior  ille, 
Quisquis  ab  hoc  victuram  actavit  lampada  Phoebo, 
In  famulante  faces  accendimus,  idque  severae, 
Quod  damus  alterius  vitae,  concedimus  umbrae. 
Sic  caput  Ismarii,  caesa  cervice,  Poetae, 
Nescio  quid  rapido  vocale  immurmurat  Hebro, 
Memnonis  adverso  sic  stridit  chordula  Phcebo, 
Datque  modos  magicos,  tenuesque  reciprocat  auras. 
Seu  tu  grandiloqui  torques  vaga  frcena  theatri, 
En  tibi  vox  geminis  applaudit  publica  palmis; 
Seu  juvat  in  numeros,  palantes  cogere  voces 
Maeonic\  Jonsone  cheli,  te  pronus  amantum 
Prosequitur  ccetus,  studioso  imitamine  vatum. 
Benjamini  insignis  quondam  quintuplice  ditis 
Suffitu  mensae,  densique  paropside,  sed  tu 
Millena  plus  parte  alios  excedis,  et  auctis 
Accumulas  dapibus,  propriS.  de  dote,  placentam. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  255 

Ralph  Bridecake,  1638. 

In  Ben.  Jons  on. 

Quod  martes  Epico  tonat  cothurno, 
Sive  aptat  Elegis  leves  amores, 
Seu  sales  Epigrammatum  jocosos 
Promit,  seu  numerosiora  plectro 
Jungit  verba,  sibi  secundat  orsa 
Cyrrhaeus,  nee  Hyantiae  sorores 
Ulli  dexterius  favent  poetae, 
Hoc  cum  Maeonide  sibi  et  Marone, 
Et  cum  Callimacho,  et  simul  Tibullo 
Commune  est,  aliisque  cum  trecentis: 
Sed  quod  Anglia  quotquot  erudites 
Faecundo  ediderit  sinu  poetas 
Acceptos  referat  sibi,  sua  omnes 
Hos  industria  finxerit,  labosque 
Jonsoni,  hoc  proprium  est  suumque  totum, 
Qui  Poemata  fecit  et  Poetas. 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

Anonymous,  1638. 

Iwvff&vu)  TTore  <f>vvTL  Trapearr)  TTOTVLO.  Moucra, 
Kat  Bpo/uos,  /cat  Epcos,  /cat  Xaptrcoi/  0ta<ros, 

Ei/t'os  apTLTOKOv  \afte  veftpib^  airaip&  re 
Aovcras  /cat  Trortaas  veKTap  rw  /Sorpuos. 

Kuo'trai'  5t'  at  Xaptres,  /cat  aet^aXeecr(rt 
E(rre</)OJ',  776'  tepots  /3a/c%apt5os  TreraXots. 

Kecrrov  Tvrdos  epws,  o-uX^cras  nrjrepa 


Tots  5'  €7rt  Mcoaa  (ro^aj  ^t^uptcr/iaTt  7rat5' 

Xpu(T6ias  TrrepuYas  \IKVOV  virepexo^wn' 
Xatpe  ^eco^  Krjpv^j  yairjs  ^eya  xapAta  Bperavvrjs. 

Xatp'  eXTrts  *2,Kf]v&v  TWV  ert  yvnvoirobuv' 
Ats  <ru  xopwriffuv  etr'  e/z/3a5cos,  etre  KoOopvovs, 

'EXXa5a  /cat  tPw/ir;i'  ts  <j>6ovov  oto-rpeXao-cts* 
Fauptocoj'  OpiyKolai  veodfjirjTOio  0€arpou, 

I/cpt'  a(j,€uf'aiJ,€vov  fjiapfj-apeuv 


256  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 


H'  /ecu  aTTLTTTajJLevrjj  j8pc$€os  iro.\a.^riaiv 

Tl\LvQoV)  apeiorepys  (TVfji(36\ov  OLKodofjLijs  . 
[Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 

George  Daniel,  1638. 

To  the  Memorie  of  the  Best  Dramaticke  English  Poet,  Ben:  lonson. 

1638. 

Great  Flame  of  English  Poets  gon  !  how  shall 
Wee  strew  our  flowers  at  thy  Funerall? 
What  obsequies  performe!  what  rites  prepare 
Unto  thy  Herse?     What  Monument  but  were 
Too  narrow  to  Containe  Thee!  or  what  State 
But  were  beneath  the  honour  of  thy  fate? 
Noe,  rather,  wee  (remaining  of  the  Tribe, 
Sad  Orphans)  can  but  wish  what  wee  escribe 
Unto  thy  Merit.     All  wee  bring  to  thee, 
Is  but  our  Tears,  our  filial  Pietie. 

Great  Lord  of  Arts,  and  Father  of  the  Age! 
The  first  and  best  Informer  of  the  Stage! 
How  shall  wee  speake  of  him?  what  Numbers  bring 
T'empassionate,  and  worthy  Orgies  Sing? 
What  Shall  we  Say?     Shall  wee  in  a  lust  Zeale, 
Rebuke  the  Age  of  Ignorance,  and  tell 
Aloud  his  Merits?     Shall  wee  weepe,  or  boast 
His  worth?  or  Losse?     Shall  wee  say,  when  wee  lost 
Him,  a  sad  Night  of  follie  did  orespread 
This  Island,  as  wee  see,  and  wee  are  dead, 
Rather  then  Hee  wee  weep  for?     For  Hee  still 
Lives  to  instruct  the  Age  with  a  Strong  Quill. 
And  as  he  did  from  Ignorance  reduce 
Th'  abused  Stage,  Soe  has  he  left  to  us, 
(Who  act  upon  this  greater  Theatre) 
Grave  morall  Pandects,  Strong,  &  yet  soe  Cleare 
Hee  is  his  owne  Expositor;  and  wee 
(If  sottishly  not  blind  or  worse),  may  see 
Vertue  in  Act;  and  everie  gracefull  Step 
She  treads  may  be  our  Path  ;  but  wee  all  Sleepe, 


TO  BEN   JONSON  257 

Uncapable  of  what  Hee  taught ;  or  how 

To  valew  what  Hee  left  us.     I  could  bow 

(And  would  the  Age  might  doo't  without  offence) 

To  name  him,  with  a  Modest  Reverence. 

For  Shall  wee  kneele  to  Titles?  and  observe 

fformalities  to  those,  who  nought  deserve? 

(More  then  their  Name  or  painted  outside  give) 

And  shall  My  Lord  have  a  prerogative 

ffor  vertue,  in  his  Ancestors?     (though  hee 

Perhaps  the  Shame  of  all  his  Pedigree;) 

And  our  Great  Lord  of  witt,  where  vertue  in 

Her  Sphere  did  move;  where  Art  and  Judgment  Shine, 

(Inseparable)  bee  with  Common  Men, 

And  vulgar  Mention  named?  oh!  the  Pen 

Of  Witt  and  Truth  forbid  it!     Rather  let 

The  worthies  present  Age  his  Name  forget. 

For  wee  are  Emulous  fooles,  and  will  admitt 

Noe  Rivalls  in  the  Claime  wee  lay  to  witt. 

But  After- Ages  (more  Judicious, 
Unswaied  by  Passion,  only  Sedulous 
To  honour  vertue,)  shall,  (I  will  not  Doubt) 
Advance  his  Name;  when  the  despised  Rout 
(His  Scorne)  shall  perish,  in  the  filthy  Smoake 
Of  their  owne  Follies.     Then,  all  Eyes  shall  looke 
With  Joy  and  Admiration,  to  receive 
A  Light  their  Fathers  could  not.     I  will  leave 
Only  this  little:  Judgement  shall  Allow, 
(When  Men  have  Eyes  to  see  &  witt  to  know 
Who  merit  most)  the  greatest  Eulogie, 
For  Language,  Art,  and  all  Dexteritie 
Of  Witt,  to  Him:  and  happ'lie  were  the  flame 
Extinct,  wee  might  recover't  in  his  Name. 
A  Charme  soe  stronge,  Who  ever  shall  reherse 
Ben:  lonson,  cannot  chuse  but  make  a  verse. 
[The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  ed.  from  the  original  MSS.,  by  A.  B. 
Grosart,  1878,  i,  63-65.] 


258  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

George  Daniel,  about  1638. 

Upon  Ben  lonson's  Booke. 

Bee  not  Deceiv'd  (Dull  world)  Hee  is  not  Dead ; 
Rumor  is  false;  open  His  Booke,  and  read. 
It  is  Himselfe;  there,  Everie  Scene  affords 
Words  above  Action ;  Matter  beyond  Words. 
If,  Readers,  what  I  say,  will  not  suffice 
T'evince  your  follies,  I  dare  bid  you  twice 
What  yet  you  have  not  Done ;  open  and  Read ; 
Recant,  or  else  'tis  You,  not  Hee,  that's  Dead. 
[The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  edited  by  A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  i,  66.] 

G.  W.,  1638. 

Immortal  Ben  is  dead;  and  as  that  ball 
On  Ida  toss'd,  so  is  his  crown  by  all 
The  Infantry  of  wit. 

[Verses  prefixed  to  Thomas  Randolph's  Poems  with  the  Muses  Looking- 
Glass,  1638;  in  Poetical  and  Dramatic  Works  of  Thomas  Randolph, 
ed.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  1875,  p.  507.] 

W.  Markham,  1638. 

.  .  .  My  worthy  Friend,  this  Play  o'  th'  publick  stage 

Hath  gain'd  such  fair  applause,  as't  did  engage 

A  nation  to  thy  Muse;  where  thou  shalt  reign 

Vicegerent  to  Apollo,  who  doth  deign, 

His  darling  Ben  deceased,  thou  should 'st  be 

Declar'd  the  heir  apparent  to  his  tree. 

[From  verses  prefixed  to  James  Shirley's  Royal  Master,  1638;  Shirley's 
Works,  ed.  A.  Dyce,  1833,  i,  Ixxxvi.] 

Richard  Brome,  1638. 

To  my  Lord  of  Newcastle,  on  his  Play  called  The  Variety.     He 
having  commanded  me  to  give  him  my  true  opinion  of  it. 
My  Lord, 

I  could  not  think  these  seven  yeares,  but  that  I 
In  part  a  poet  was,  and  so  might  lie, 
By  the  Poetick  Licence.     But  I  finde 
Now  I  am  none,  and  strictly  am  confin'd 


TO  BEN  JONSON  259 

To  truth,  if  therefore  I  subpcena'd  were 
Before  the  Court  of  Chancerie  to  swear. 
Or  if  from  thence  I  should  be  higher  sent, 
And  on  my  life  unto  a  Parliament 
Of  wit  and  judgement,  there  to  certifie 
What  I  could  say  of  your  VARIETY: 
I  would  depose  each  Scene  appear'd  to  me 
An  Act  of  wit,  each  Act  a  Comedy, 
And  all  was  such,  to  all  that  understood, 
As  knowing  Johnson,  swore  By  God  'twas  good, 
[The  Weeding  of  the  Covent-Garden,  1658,  sig.  A4.] 

Richard  Brome,  1638. 

But  it  is  Known  (peace  to  their  Memories) 
The  Poets  late  sublimed  from  our  Age, 

Who  best  could  understand,  and  best  devise 
Workes,  that  must  ever  live  upon  the  Stage 

Did  well  approve,  and  lead  this  humble  way, 
Which  we  are  bound  to  travaile  in  to  night; 

And,  though  it  be  not  trac'd  so  well,  as  they 
Discover'd  it  by  true  Phoebean  light 
Pardon  our  just  Ambition,  yet,  that  strive 
To  keep  the  weakest  Branch  o'  th'  Stage  alive. 

[From  the  Prologue  to  The  Antipodes,  acted  1638,  printed  1640.  The* 
allusion  to  "The  Poets  late  sublimed  from  our  Age"  surely  points- 
to  Jonson,  and  possibly  to  Shakespeare.] 

Actors'  Bill  for  Plays  at  Court,  1638. 

[Plays  acted]  before  the  king  &  queene  this  [present]  yeare  of  our 

lord  1638. 

At  the  Cocpit  the  26th  of  march The  lost  ladie- 

At  the  Cocpit  the  27th  of  march Damboyes- 

At  the  Cocpit  the  3d  of  Aprill • .  .  .  .  Aglaura 

******** 

At  the  Cocpit  the  8th  of  november The  fox. 

[From  a  bill  for  Court  performances  presented  by  the  King's  Men^ 
The  manuscript  is  slightly  defective  at  the  top,  and  words  have 
been  supplied,  in  brackets,  from  a  similar  bill  presented  by  the 
King's  Men  in  1637.  See  The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Her 
bert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  76.] 


260  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  1638-39. 

...  If  y'are  come  to-day 
In  expectation  of  a  faultless  play, 
Writ  by  learn 'd  Jonson,  or  some  able  pen 
Fam'd  and  approv'd  of  by  the  world,  you  then 
We  disappoint.     Our  poet  had  never  yet 
Hisses  condemn,  or  hands  commend  his  wit. 
[Prologue  to  The  Obstinate  Lady,  acted  1638-39,  printed  1657.] 

Thomas  Bancroft,  1639. 

To  Ben  Jonson. 

As  Martial's  Muse  by  Caesar's  ripening  rays 
Was  sometimes  cherished,  so  thy  happier  days 
Joy'd  in  the  sunshine  of  thy  royal  JAMES, 
Whose  crown  shed  lustre  on  thy  Epigrams: 
But  I,  remote  from  favour's  fostering  heat, 
O'er  snowy  hills  my  Muses'  passage  beat,     • 
Where  weeping  rocks  my  harder  fates  lament, 
And  shuddering  woods  whisper  my  discontent. 
What  wonder  then  my  numbers,  that  have  rolled 
Like  streams  of  Tigris,  run  so  slow  and  cold! 

To  the  Same. 

Let  Ignorance  with  Envy  chat, 
.     In  spite  of  both,  thou  fame  shalt  win; 

Whose  mass  of  learning  seems  like  that, 

Which  Joseph  gave  to  BENJAMIN. 
[Two  Books  of  Epigrams,  1639.] 

Robert  Davenport,  1639. 

Anne.  .  .  .  I 'me  like  the  man   that  could  endure  no  noise 
In  th'  Silent  Woman,  answer  all  in  signs. 

[A  New  Trick  to  Cheat  the  Divell,  1638,  V,  iii.] 

John  Taylor,  1639. 

At  a  place  called  Priors  Thorns  .  .  .  there  dwelt  a  man  named 
Frier,  who  was  rich  in  substance,  but  very  poore  and  miserable 


TO   BEN  JONSON  261 

in  his  conditions:  belike  hee  had  read  or  heard  of  a  Play  that  was 
written  40  years  since  by  Master  Benjamin  Johnson,  the  Play 
is  extant,  and  is  called  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  in  which 
Play  was  acted  and  personated  a  mizerly  Farmer,  that  had  much 
corne  in  his  Barnes,  and  did  expect  a  scant  or  barren  Harvest, 
that  through  want  and  scarcity  hee  might  sell  his  corne  at  what 
deare  rates  hee  pleased,  but  (contrary  to  his  wicked  hopes)  the 
Harvest  proved  abundantly  plentifull,  wherefore  hee  being  in  an 
extraordinary  merry  or  mad  veine,  put  himselfe  to  the  charge  of 
the  buying  of  a  two  penny  halter,  and  went  into  his  Barn  as 
secretly  as  he  could,  and  putting  the  halter  about  his  neck  with 
a  riding  knot,  he  fastened  the  other  end  to  a  beam,  and  most 
neatly  hang'd  himself:  But  (as  ill  luck  would  have  it)  his  man 
presently  came  into  the  Barne,  and  espyde  his  Master  so  bravely 
mounted,  the  unlucky  knave  drew  his  Knife  and  cut  the  halter, 
crying  out  for  help  as  lowde  as  he  could,  rubbing  and  chafing  his 
Master  with  all  care  and  diligence  to  recover  him  to  life  again; 
at  the  last  he  awak'd  out  of  his  traunce  and  fetch'd  a  deep  groan, 
began  to  stare  and  look  about  him;  and  taking  the  end  of  the 
cut  halter  in  his  hand,  his  first  words  to  his  man  was  Sirrah,  who 
did  cut  this?  O  Master  (said  the  fellow)  it  was  I  that  did  it, 
and  I  thank  God  that  I  came  in  good  time  to  doe  it,  and  I  pray 
you  to  take  God  in  your  minde,  and  never  more  to  hazard  your 
soule  and  body  in  such  a  wicked  manner:  to  which  good  counsell 
of  the  poor  fellow,  the  Caitiffe  replyde,  Sirrah,  If  you  would  be 
medling  (like  a  sawcy  busie  rogue)  you  might  have  untyde  it, 
that  it  might  have  serv'd  another  time;  such  an  unthrifty  rascal  I 
as  thou  will  never  be  worth  such  a  halter,  it  cost  me  two  pence, 
and  I  will  abate  the  price  of  it  in  thy  quarters  wages.  And  when 
the  quarter  day  came,  hee  did  abate  the  said  two  pence,  for  the 
which  the  fellow  would  dwell  no  longer  with  him,  but  went  and 
got  him  another  service :  This  was  acted  really  and  lately  at  the 
place  aforesaid,  in  imitation  of  that  part  in  the  Play,  of  Every 
Man  out  of  his  Humour. 

[Part  of  this  Summers  Travels,  1639;   in  the  Spenser  Society's  reprint, 

1870,  p.  20.] 


262  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

James  Shirley,  1637-40. 

A  Prologue  to  The  Alchemist. 
The  Alchemist,  a  play  for  strength  of  wit, 
And  true  art,  made  to  shame  what  hath  been  writ 
In  former  ages;  I  except  no  worth 
Of  what  or  Greek  or  Latins  have  brought  forth ; 
Is  now  to  be  presented  to  your  ear, 
For  which  I  wish  each  man  were  a  Muse  here, 
To  know,  and  in  his  soul  be  fit  to  be 
Judge  of  this  masterpiece  of  comedy ; 
That  when  we  hear  but  once  of  Jonson's  name, 
Whose  mention  shall  make  proud  the  breath  of  fame, 
We  may  agree,  and  crowns  of  laurel  bring 
A  justice  unto  him  the  poets'  king. 
But  he  is  dead:  time,  envious  of  that  bliss 
Which  we  possess'd  in  that  great  brain  of  his, 
By  putting  out  this  light,  hath  darken'd  all 
The  sphere  of  poesy,  and  we  let  fall, 
At  best,  unworthy  elegies  on  his  hearse, 
A  tribute  that  we  owe  his  living  verse ; 
Which  though  some  men,  that  never  reach'd  him  may 
Decry,  that  love  all  folly  in  a  play, 
The  wiser  few  shall  this  distinction  have, 
To  kneel,  not  tread,  upon  his  honour'd  grave. 

[From  Shirley's  Poems,  1646,  under  the  heading  "Prologues  and  Epi 
logues  Written  to  several  Plays  presented  in  this  Kingdom,  and 
elsewhere";  reprinted  in  Dyce's  ed.,  1833,  vi,  490.  The  prologue 
was  designed  for  The  Alchemist  as  performed  in  Ireland.] 

Anonymous,  before  1640. 

His  Mistris  Shade. 

.  .  .  Then  stately  Virgil,  witty  Ovid  by, 
Whom  faire  Corinna  stands,  and  doth  comply 
With  Ivory  wrists,  his  Laureat  head,  and  steepes, 
His  eyes  in  dew  of  kisses  while  he  sleepes. 
Then  soft  Catullus,  sharpe  fang'd  Martiall, 
And  towring  Lucan,  Horace,  luvinall; 


TO  BEN   JONSON  263 

And  snakie  Perseus;  these  and  those  whom  rage, 

(Dropt  from  the  larre  of  heaven)  fill'd  to  enrage 

All  times  unto  their  frensies,  thou  shalt  there 

Behold  them  in  an  Amphitheater. 

Amongst  which  Synod  crown'd  with  sacred  bayes, 

And  flattering  joy  weele  have  to  recite  their  playes. 

Shakespeare  and  Beamond,  Swannes  to  whom  the  Spheares 

Listen,  while  they  call  backe  the  former  yeares 

To  teach  the  truth  of  Scenes,  and  more  for  thee, 

There  yet  remaines  brave  soule  than  thou  canst  see 

By  glimmering  of  a  fancie:  doe  but  come, 

And  there  He  shew  thee  that  illustrous  roome, 

In  which  thy  father  Johnson  shall  be  plac'd, 

As  in  a  Globe  of  radiant  fire,  and  grac'd, 

To  be  of  that  high  Hyrarchy,  where  none 

But  brave  soules  take  illumination: 

Immediately  from  heaven.  ... 

[In  Poems:    Written  by  Wil.  Shake-speare,  1640,  "An  Addition  of  some 
Excellent  Poems  ...  by  other  Gentlemen,"  sig.  Le.] 

The  Stationers'  Registers,  1640. 

John  Benson 

20°.  Februarij.     1639  [i.e.  1640]. 

Entred  for  his  Copie  under  the  hands  of  doctor  Wykes 
and  Master  Bourne  warden  a  booke  called  The  Masque 
of  the  Gypsies  by  Beniamin-  Johnson vjd 

Master  Crooke 

and 
Richard:  Seirger 

20°.  Martij 

Entred  for  their  Copie  under  the  hands  of  doctor  Wykes 
and  master  ffetherston  warden  four  Masques  viz*.  .  .vjd 
The  Masque  of  Augur es. 
Tyme  vindicated 
Neptunes  triumphes.  and 
Panns  Anniversary  or  the  sheapards 
holy  day. 

with  sundry  Elegies  and  other  Poems  by  Beniamin:  Johnson. 
[Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  500,  503.] 


264  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Title-pages,  1640. 

The  Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson  .  .  .  London.  Printed  by 
Richard  Bishop,  and  are  to  be  sold  by  Andrew  Crooke  .  .  .  1640. 
[Folio,  with  the  engraved  portrait  by  Robert  Vaugh,  and  verses 
by  Abraham  Holland,  facing  the  elaborately  engraved  title-page 
by  Hole. — Both  the  portrait  and  the  engraved  title-page  are  the 
same  as  in  the  1616  folio,  and  the  volume  is  a  second  edition  of 
that  work.] 

The  Workes  of  Beniamin  Johnson.  The  second  volume. 
Containing  these  Playes,  Viz.  I  Bartholomew  Fayre.  2  The 
Staple  of  Newes.  3  The  Divell  is  an  Asse.  .  .  .  London :  Printed 
for  Richard  Meighen,  1640.  [Folio.  There  was  also  another 
issue;  see  W.  W.  Greg,  Hand-List  of  English  Plays,  p.  56.] 

Q.  Horatius  Flaccus:  His  Art  of  Poetry.  Englished  by  Ben: 
lonson.  With  other  Workes  of  the  Author,  never  Printed  before. 
.  .  .  London.  Printed  by  J.  Okes  for  J.  Benson.  1640.  [i2mo, 
with  an  engraved  title,  by  W.  M.,  containing  bust  of  the  poet 
crowned  with  laurel.] 

Ben :  lonson 's  Execration  against  Vulcan  With  divers  Epigrams 
by  the  same  Author  to  severall  Noble  Personages  in  this  King 
dom.  Never  Published  before.  London:  Printed  by  J.  O.  for 
John  Benson  .  .  .  1640.  [With  the  portrait  by  Robert  Vaughan 
and  verses  by  Abraham  Holland,  as  in  the  folios  of  1616  and 
1640.] 

William  Hodgson,  1640. 

On  the  Author  of  this  Volume,  the  Poet  Laureat,  Ben  Jonson. 

Here  is  a  poet!  whose  unmuddled  strains 
Shew  that  he  held  all  Helicon  in's  brains. 
What  here  is  writ,  is  sterling;  every  line 
Was  well  allowed  of  by  the  Muses  nine. 
When  for  the  stage  a  drama  he  did  lay, 
Tragic  or  comic,  he  still  bore  away 
The  sock  and  buskin ;  clearer  notes  than  his 
No  swan  e'er  sung  upon  our  Thamesis; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  265 

,     For  lyric  sweetness  in  an  ode,  or  sonnet, 

To  Ben  the  best  of  wits  might  veil  their  bonnet. 
His  genius  justly,  in  an  enthreat  rage, 
Oft  lashed  the  dull-sworn  factors  for  the  stage: 
For  Alchymy,  though 't  make  a  glorious  gloss, 
Compared  with  Gold  is  bullion  and  base  dross. 

On  his  elaborated  Art-contrived  Playes.     An  Epigram. 
Each  like  an  Indian  ship  or  hull  appears, 
That  took  a  voyage  for  some  certain  years, 
To  plough  the  sea,  and  furrow  up  the  main, 
And  brought  rich  ingots  from  his  loaded  brain. 
His  art  the  sun;  his  labours  were  the  lines; 
His  solid  stuff  the  treasure  of  his  mines. 

[Prefixed  to  The  Workes  of  Benjamin  Jonson,  1640.] 

Edward  Herbert,  Lord  of  Cherbury,  1640. 

To  his  Friend  Ben  Johnson,  of  his  Horace  made  English. 
It  is  not  enough  Ben  Johnson  to  be  thought 
Of  English  Poets  best,  but  to  have  brought 
In  greater  state  to  their  acquaintance  one 
So  equal  to  himself  and  thee,  that  none 
Might  be  thy  second,  while  thy  Glory  is 
To  be  the  Horace  of  our  times  and  his. 
[Prefixed  to  Jonson 's  Q.  Horatius  Flaccus:  His  Art  of  Poetry,  1640.] 

Barton  Holyday,  1640. 

To  Ben  Jonson. 
Tis  dangerous  to  praise ;  besides  the  task 

Which  to  do  't  well,  will  ask 
An  age  of  time  and  judgment;  who  can  then 

Be  praised,  and  by  what  pen? 
Yet,  I  know  both,  whilst  thee  I  safely  chuse 

My  subject  and  my  Muse. 
For  sure,  henceforth  our  poets  shall  implore 

Thy  aid,  which  lends  them  more, 
Than  can  their  tired  Apollo,  or  the  Nine 

She  wits,  or  mighty  wine. 


266  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  deities  are  bankrupts,  and  must  be 

Glad  to  beg  art  of  thee. 
Some  they  might  once  perchance  on  thee  bestow: 

But  now  to  thee  they  owe: 
Who  dost  in  daily  bounty  more  wit  spend, 

Than  they  could  ever  lend. 
Thus  thou  didst  build  the  Globe,  which,  but  for  thee, 

Should  want  its  axle-tree; 
And,  like  a  careful  founder,  thou  dost  now 

Leave  rules  for  ever,  how 
To  keep't  in  reparations,  which  will  do 

More  good  than  to  build  two. 
It  was  an  able  stock  thou  gav'st  before; 

Yet,  lo,  a  richer  store! 
Which  doth,  by  a  prevention,  make  us  quit 

With  a  dear  year  of  wit: 
Come  when  it  will,  by  this  thy  name  shall  last 

Until  Fame's  utmost  blast,  .  .  . 
[Prefixed  to  Jonson's  Q.  Horatius  Flaccus:  His  Art  of  Poetry,  1640.] 

Zouch  Townley,  1640. 
BEN, 

The  world  is  much  in  debt,  and  though  it  may 

Some  petty  reck'nings  to  small  poets  pay: 

Pardon  if  at  thy  glorious  sum  they  stick, 

Being  too  large  for  their  arithmetic. 

If  they  could  prize  the  genius  of  a  scene, 

The  learned  sweat  that  makes  a  language  clean, 

Or  understand  the  faith  of  ancient  skill, 

Drawn  from  the  tragic,  comic,  lyric  quill; 

The  Greek  and  Roman  denizened  by  thee, 

And  both  made  richer  in  their  poetry; 

This  they  may  know,  and  knowing  this  still  grudge, 

That  yet  they  are  not  fit  of  thee  to  judge. 

I  prophesy  more  strength  to  after  time, 

Whose  joy  shall  call  this  isle  the  poets'  clime, 

Because  'twas  thine,  and  unto  thee  return 

The  borrowed  flames  with  which  thy  Muse  shall  burn. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  267 

Then  when  the  stock  of  other's  fame  is  spent, 
Thy  poetry  shall  keep  its  own  old  rent. 
[Prefixed  to  Jonson's  Q.  Horatius  Flaccus:  His  Art  of  Poetry,  1640.] 

C.  G.,  1640. 

To  censuring  Criticks,  on  the  approved  Comedy,  The  Antipodes. 
lonson's  alive!  the  World  admiring  stands, 
And  to  declare  his  welcome  there,  shake  hands; 
Apollo's  Pensioners  may  wipe  their  eyes, 
And  stifle  their  abortive  Elegies: 
Taylor  his  Goose-quill  may  abjure  againe, 
And  to  make  Paper  deare,  scribbling  refraine; 
For  sure  there's  cause  of  neither.     lonson's  ghost 
Is  not  a  Tenant  i'  the  Elizian  Coast: 
But  next  with  too  much  scorne,  at  your  dispraise, 
Silently  stole  unto  a  grove  of  Bayes; 
Therefore  bewaile  your  errours,  and  entreat 
He  will  returne,  unto  the  former  seat, 
When  he  was  often  pleas'd  to  feed  your  eare 
With  the  choice  dainties  of  his  Theatre ; 
But  /  much  feare,  he'l  not  be  easily  wonne 
To  leave  his  Bower,  where  griefe  and  he  alone 
Do  spend  their  time,  to  see  how  vainly  wee 
Accept  old  toyes  for  a  new  Comedie. 
Therefore  repaire  to  him,  and  praise  each  line 
Of  his  Vulpone,  Sejanus,  Cateline. 
But  stay,  and  let  me  tell  you  where  he  is; 
He  sojournes  in  his  Brome's  Antipodes. 
[Prefixed  to  Richard  Brome's  The  Antipodes,  1640.] 

C.  G.,  1640. 

I  doe  not  wonder  that  great  Johnsons  Play 
Was  scorn'd  so  by  the  ignorant,  that  day 
It  did  appeare  in  its  most  glorious  shine; 
And  comely  action  grac'd  each  learned  line. 
There  was  some  reason  for  it:  'twas  above 
Their  reach,  their  envy;  their  applause  or  love: 


268  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

When  as  the  wiser  few  did  it  admire, 

And  warm'd  their  fancies  at  his  genuine  fire. 

[Prefixed  to  Thomas  Nabbes'  The  Unfortunate  Mother,  1640.] 

Richard  Doddridge,  1640. 

Thus  (Friend)  the  bayes  still  flourish;  Johnson  dead, 

Randolph  deceas'd,  they  fall  to  crowne  thy  head; 

Yet  see,  how  full  his  flowing  fancie  meetes 

With  thy  rich  Genius!  and  sweetly  greets 

Thy  first-borne  infant,  making  almost  one 

A  jealous,  and  a  Fatall  Union: 

Thine  is  a  full,  stuff't,  fluent  wit,  that  speakes 

Meerly  it's  owne;  not  like  the  running  leakes 

Of  a  crack't  crazy  braine,  that  dribbles  forth 

Either  but  little,  or  what's  little  worth; 

His  straines  lift  high  too,  thine  mount;  all  confesse 

Both  tyre  expression  with  a  curious  dresse, 

And  tricke  it  up  so  neatly,  't  doth  surpasse; 

The  Muses  sure  lent  both  a  looking-glasse ; 

The  difference  (if  any)  this  may  be, 

Chame  brought  him  up,  but  Isis  foster'd  thee. 

Twixt  thee  and  him  (Great  Ben!)  a  parallel 
•Would  chance  strike  credit  deafe,  make  envie  swell, 
Swell  then  who  list,  and  burst;  since  deads  thy  heire, 
He's  to  thy  wit  the  sole  Executer:     (T.  Randolph.) 
The  legacies  being  paid,  all  he  assayes, 
S'no  more  than  what  he  well  deserves,  thy  bayes: 
His  Muse  but  yet  new  borne  hath  felt  thy  fate ; 
And  like  thine  glories  in  the  rabbles  hate; 
As  soone  as  shee  had  life,  she  was  wish't  dead, 
Or  under  her  owne  ashes  buried ; 

But  now  a  glorious  Phcenix  rais'd  is  shee 

From  this  and  her  supposed  Tragedie. 

[Prefixed  to  Samuel  Harding's  Sicily  and  Naples,  or  The  Fatall  Union, 
1640.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  269 

Nicholas  Downey,  1640. 

BEN  is  deceas'd,  and  yet  I  dare  avow, 
(Without  that  booke)  BEN'S  redivivus  now, 
I  could  beleeve  a  Metemp sycosis, 
And  that  thy  soule  were  not  thine  owne,  but  his 
Or  else  the  Genius  which  did  wait  upon 
His  worthy  quill  serves  thee,  now  he  is  gone; 
But  I  observe  this  difference,  thy  braine 
Vents  fancies  with  a  pleasure,  his  with  paine; 
His  were  mature  indeed,  they  went  full  time 
Before  they  were  delivered  into  rime; 
Thine  were  conceiv'd,  brought  forth  at  once,  yet  may 
As  they  are  faire,  be  as  long-liv'd  as  they; 
Who  reads  thy  play-worke  (Friend)  needs  not  compell, 
Or  force  thy  lines  to  make  them  parallel 
With  his,  unlesse  'cause  thou  contract'st  in  one 
Small  part,  what  he  in  a  whole  play  has  done. 

His  humorists  in  thy  Alphonso  ly: 
Sejanus,  Catiline's  damn'd  treachery 
Lives  in  Ursini's  treasons,  there  is  not 
BEN'S  Fox  can  scape  the  policy  o'  th  plot. 

[Prefixed  to  Samuel  Harding's  Sicily  and  Naples,  1640.] 

S.  Hall,  1640. 

Things  hid  in  wide-sleeve  gownes,  all  you  can  see 

Of  Artists  in  them  is,  they'r  come  t'  A.  B. 

Men  that  thy  play,  as  some  new  lesson  con, 

And  hacke,  and  mangle  thy  blest  Union; 

Poore  fooles!  I  pitty  them;  how  would  they  looke, 

If  at  the  barre  BEN  JOHNSON  were  their  booke? 

His  Fox  would  on  these  geese  revenge  thee  so, 

We  should  no  hissing  but  i'th  Common  know; 

Nor  neede  they  other  halter,  Catiline 

Affords  them  rope  enough,  in  each  strong  line:  .  .  . 

[From  verses  prefixed  to  Samuel  Harding's  Sicily  and  Naples,  1640.] 


270  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  John  Suckling,  1640. 
Hast  thou  seen  the  down  T  th'  air, 

when  wanton  blasts  have  tost  it; 
Or  the  ship  on  the  sea, 

when  ruder  waves  have  crost  it? 
Hast  thou  mark'd  the  crocodile's  weeping, 

or  the  fox's  sleeping? 
Or  hast  view'd  the  peacock  in  his  pride, 

or  the  dove  by  his  bride, 

when  he  courts  for  his  lechery? 
O,  so  fickle,  O,  so  vain,  O,  so  false,  so  false  is  she!  .  .  . 

[This  "Song  to  a  Lute,"  from  Suckling's  The  Sad  One,  IV,  iii,  is  imitated 
from  the  song  in  Jonson's  The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  II,  ii.] 

Richard  West,  1640. 

As  twere  the  only  office  of  a  Friend 
To  Rhyme,  and  'gainst  his  Conscience  to  commend; 
And  sweare  like  Poets  of  the  Post,  This  Play 
Exceeds  all  Johnson's  Works. 

[From  commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  James    Ferrand's    EP12TO- 
MANIA,  1640.] 

George  Lynn,  1640. 

For,  when  th'  inticing  pleasure  of  thy  Line 
And  teeming  Fancies  unexhausted  Myne 
I  view,  me  thinks  the  Genius  of  those  Three 
Admired  Laureats  are  ensphear'd  in  Thee, 
Smooth  Shakespeare,  neat  Randolph,  and  wittie  Ben, 
Flow  in  a  mutuall  sweethesse  from  Thy  Pen. 

[From  commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  John  Tatham's  The  Fancies 
Theater,  1640.] 

W.  Ling,  1640. 

Had  I  Chapmans  Line  or  Learning,  lohnsons  Art, 
Fletchers  more  accurate  Fancie,  or  that  part 
Of  Beaumont  that's  divine,  Dun's  profound  skill, 
Making  good  Verses  live,  and  damning  ill : 
I  then  would  prayse  thy  Verses,  which  sho'd  last 
Whilst  Time  ha's  sands  to  run,  or  Fame  a  blast. 

[Commendatory  verses  prefixed  to  John  Tatham's  The  Fancies  Theater, 
1640.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  271 

Anonymous,  1640. 

To  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson. 

Had  Rome  but  heard  her  worthies  speak  so  high, 
As  thou  hast  taught  them  in  thy  Poesie; 
She  would  have  sent  her  poets  to  obtain, 
(Tutor'd  by  thee)  thy  most  majestique  strain. 
[Wits  Recreations,  1640,  Epigram  7.] 

Anonymous,  1640. 

B.  J.  approbation  of  a  copy  of  verses. 
One  of  the  witty  sort  of  Gentlemen, 
That  held  society  with  learned  Ben — 
Shew'd  him  some  verses  of  a  tragic  sense 
Which  did  his  ear  much  curious  violence; 
But  after  Ben  had  been  a  kind  partaker 
Of  the  sad  lines,  he  needs  must  know  the  maker; 
What  unjust  man  ht  was,  that  spent  his  time, 
And  banish'd  reason  to  advance  his  rime  : 
Nay  gentle  Ben,  replyes  the  Gentleman, 
I  see  I  must  support  the  Poet  than ; 
Although  these  humble  strains  are  not  so  fit 
For  to  please  you,  hee's  held  a  pretty  wit; 
Is  he  held  so?  (sayes  Ben)  so  may  a  Goos,   ' 
Had  I  the  holding,  I  would  let  him  loos. 
[Wits  Recreations,  1640,  Epigram  330.] 

Anonymous,  1640. 

To  Mr.  Ben  Johnson,  demanding  the  reason  why  he  calVd  his  plays 

works. 

Prav  tell  me  Ben,  where  doth  the  mystery  lurk, 
What  others  call  a  play,  you  call  a  work, 

Thus  answer 'd  by  a  friend  in  Ben  Johnson's  defence. 
The  Authors  friend  thus  for  the  Author  sayes, 
Bens  playes  are  works,  when  others  works  are  plays. 
[Wits  Recreations,  1640,  Epigram  455.] 


272  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1640. 

On  Ben  Johnson. 
Here  lyes  Johnson  with  the  rest 
Of  the  Poets;  but  the  best. 
Reader,  wo'dst  thou  more  have  known? 
Ask  his  story,  not  this  stone; 
That  will  speak  what  this  can't  tell 
Of  his  glory.     So  farewell. 

Another  on  Ben:  J. 

The  Muses  fairest  light,  in  no  dark  time; 
The  wonder  of  a  learned  Age ;  the  line 
That  none  can  passe;  the  most  proportion'd  wit 
To  Nature:  the  best  Judge  of  what  was  fit: 
The  deepest,  plainest,  highest,  clearest  pen: 
The  voyce  most  eccho'd  by  consenting  men  : 
The  soul  which  answer'd  best  to  all  well  said 
By  others;  and  which  most  requitall  made: 
Tun'd  to  the  highest  key  of  ancient  Rome, 
Returning  all  her  musick  with  her  own. 
In  whom  with  nature,  study  claim'd  a  part, 
And  yet  who  to  himselfe  ow'd  all  his  Art; 
Here  lyes  Ben:  Johnson,  every  age  will  look 
With  sorrow  here,  with  wonder  on  his  Book. 
[Wits  Recreations,  1640,  Epitaphs  190,  191.] 

Anonymous,  1640. 

The  vertue  of  Sack. 

Fetch  me  Ben  Johnsons  skull,  and  fill't  with  sack, 
Rich  as  the  same  he  drank,  when  the  whole  pack 
Of  jolly  sisters  pledg'd,  and  did  agree, 
It  was  no  sin  to  be  as  drunk  as  he: 
If  there  be  any  weaknesse  in  the  wine, 
There's  Virtue  in  the  cup  to  make  't  Divine. 

[Wits  Recreations,  1640;  Hotten's  reprint,  p.  425.  The  poem  was 
printed  also  in  Poems  on  Affairs  of  State,  1704,  iii,  15,  as  "Written 
in  the  year  1641."] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  273 

Sir  John  Suckling,  1640. 

Drol[lio\.     A  Rare  Mask  no  doubt,  who  contriv'd  it? 
Lep[ido].     Marry  he    that    says  'tis  good,  howsoe'er  he  has 
made  it,  Signior  Multicarni. 
Drol.     Who,  the  Poet  Laureat? 
Lep.     The  same. 

Drol.     O  then  'twere  Blasphemy  to  speak  against  it: 
What,  are  we  full  of  Cupidst 
Do  we  sail  upon  the  vast,  and  resail, 
And  fetch  the  Mask  from  the  Clouds? 
Lep.     Away,  Critick,  thou  never  understoodst  him. 
Drol.     Troth  I  confess  it,  but  my  Comfort  is, 
Others  are  troubled  with  the  same  Disease, 
'Tis  Epidemical,  Lepido,  take't  on  my  Word, 
And  so  let's  in,  and  see  how  Things  go  forward. 

[The  Sad  One,  Act  V,  scene  i,  lines  458-9.  The  allusions  seem  to  be 
to  Ben  Jonson  and  Cynthia's  Revels.] 

Nicholas  Dixon,  1641. 

Noble  kinsemen  1634  .  .  . 
Ben  Jonsons  Poems    4°  00-00-06 
Beaumont's  poems     4°  00-00-06  .  .  . 
Shakespeare's  poems  8°  oo-  i-oo  .  .  . 
•  Received  upon  this  Bill  ye  4th  of  march  1640,  for  y8  use  of 

mr  mosely  my  maister  ...  I  say  Received 

Per  me  Nicholas  Dixon. 

[From  a  MS.  in  the  Record  Office,  noted  in  the  Catalogue  of  State 
Papers,  Domestic  Series,  1640-41.  Dixon  was  a  servant  for  the 
bookseller,  Humphrey  Mosely,  and  the  bill  relates  to  books 
supplied  to  a  customer.] 

Martin  Parker,  1641. 

All  Poets  (as  adition  to  their  fames) 
Have  by  their  Works  eternized  their  names, 
As  Chaucer,  Spencer,  and  that  noble  earle, 
Of  Surrie  thought  it  the  most  precious  pearle, 
That  dick'd  his  honour,  to  Subscribe  to  what 
His  high  engenue  ever  amed  at 
19 


274  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sydney  and  Shaks  spire,  Dray  ton,  Withers  and 
Renowned  Jonson  glory  of  our  Land  : 
Deker,  Learn'd  Chapman,  Haywood  al  thought  good, 
To  have  their  names  in  publike  understood,  .  .  . 
[The  Poet's  Blindman's  Bough,  1641;  ed.  E.  W.  Ashbee,  1871,  p.  3.] 

Sir  John  Suckling,  before  1642. 

The  sweat  of  learned  Johnson's  brain, 
And  gentle  Shakespear' s  eas'er  strain, 
A  hackney-coach  conveys  you  to, 
In  spite  of  all  that  rain  can  do : 
And  for  your  eighteen  pence  you  sit 
The  Lord  and  Judge  of  all  fresh  wit. 

[Fragmenta  A  urea,  1646;  in  The  Works  of  Sir  John  Suckling,  ed.  A.  H. 
Thompson,  1910,  p.  27.  These  verses  were  addressed  to  John 
Hales.] 

Abraham  Cowley,  1642. 

Aurelia.  ...  I  shall  never  hear  my  Virginals  when  I  play 
upon  'um,  for  her  daughter  Tabytha's  singing  of  Psalms.  The 
first  pious  deed  will  be,  to  banish  Shakespear  and  Ben  Johnson 
out  of  the  parlour,  and  to  bring  in  their  rooms  Marprelate,  and 
Pryn's  works.  .  .  . 

[The  Guardian,  acted  March  12,  1641-42,  IV,  vii.] 

James  Shirley,  1642. 

Prologue. 

Does  this  look  like  a  Term?     I  cannot  tell; 
Our  poet  thinks  the  whole  town  is  not  well, 
Has  took  some  physic  lately,  and,  for  fear 
Of  catching  cold,  dares  not  salute  this  air.  .  .  . 
I'll  promise  neither  play  nor  poet  live 
Till  ye  come  back.     Think  what  you  do;  you  see 
What  audiences  we  have,  what  company 
"  To  Shakespear  comes,  whose  mirth  did  once  beguile 
"Dull  hours,  and  buskin' d,  made  even  sorrow  smile; 
"So  lovely  were  the  wounds,  that  men  would  say, 
"  They  could  endure  the  bleeding  a  whole  day." 


TO  BEN  JONSON  275 

He  has  but  few  friends  lately ;  think  o'  that ; 
He'll  come  no  more;  and  others  have  his  fate. 
"Fletcher,  the  Muses'  darling,  and  choice  love 
"  Of  Phoebus,  the  delight  of  every  grove; 
"  Upon  whose  head  the  laurel  grew,  whose  wit 
"  Was  the  times  wonder,  and  example,  yet: 
'Tis  within  memory,  trees  did  not  throng, 
As  once  the  story  said,  to  Orpheus'  song. 
"Johnson,  t' 'whose  name,  wise  art  did  bow,  and  wit 
' '  Is  only  justified  by  honouring  it; 
"  To  hear  whose  touch,  how  would  the  learned  quire 
"  With  silence  stoop!  and  when  he  took  his  lyre, 
"Apollo  dropped  his  lute,  asham'd  to  see 
"A  rival  to  the  god  of  harmony." 
You  do  forsake  him  too.     We  must  deplore 
This  fate,  for  we  do  know  it  by  our  door.  .  .  . 
[Prologue  to  The  Sisters,  licensed  April  26,  1642.] 

Henry  Glapthorne,  1642. 

Then  that  great  wonder  of  the  knowing  age, 

Whose  very  name  merits  the  amplest  page 

In  Fames  faire  book,  admired  Johnson  stood 

Up  to  the  chin  in  the  Pierian  flood 

Quaffing  crownd  bowles  of  Nectar,  with  his  bayes 

Growing  about  his  temples;  chanting  layes, 

Such  as  were  fit  for  such  a  sacred  Eare 

As  his  majestick  Masters  was;  to  heare, 

Whom  he  so  oft  pleasd  with  (those  mighty  tasks 

Of  wit  and  judgement)  his  well  laboured  Masks. 

[From   White-Hall.  A  Poem.    Written  1642.,   1643;    in    The  Plays  and 
Poems  of  Henry  Glapthorne,  1874,  ii,  246.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1642. 

1641-2,  January  6.  On  Twelfe  Night,  1641,  the  prince  had 
a  play  called  The  Scornful  Lady,  at  the  Cockpitt,  but  the  kinge 
and  queene  were  not  there;  and  it  was  the  only  play  acted  at 
courte  in  the  whole  Christmas. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  58.] 


276  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1643. 

I  am  persuade^  in  time  they  [the  Royalists]  will  go  near  to 
put  down  all  preaching  and  praying,  and  have  some  religious 
masque  or  play  instead  of  morning  and  evening  prayer;  it  has 
been  an  old  fashion  at  Court,  amongst  the  Protestants  there,  to 
shut  up  the  Sabbath  with  some  wholesome  piece  of  Ben  Jonson 
or  Davenant,  a  kind  of  comical  divinity.  "Aulicus,"  fie!  are 
you  not  ashamed  so  many  bishops  and  so  many  prelates  at 
Oxford,  and  bring  forth  no  better  a  reformation? 

[From  the  newspaper,  Mercurius  Brittanicus,  1643,  no.  12,  p.  89.] 

Anonymous,  1643. 

[Addressing  the  Parliament.] 

We  will  not  dare  at  your  strange  Votes  to  Jear, 
Nor  personate  King  Pym  with  his  State-flear. 
Aspiring  Cataline  shall  be  forgot, 
Bloody  Sejanus,  or  who  e're  would  Plot 
Confusion  to  a  State;  .  .  . 

[Rump.  An  Exact  Collection  of  the  Choycest  Poems  and  Songs  relating 
to  the  late  Times,  from  Anno  1639  to  Anno  1661.  The  Players 
Petition  to  the  Parliament,  1662,  Part  I,  p.  33.] 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  1643. 

„  ,  .  For  Writers  of  Playes,  and  such  as  had  been  Players 
themselves,  William  Shakespeare,  and  Benjamin  Johnson,  have 
specially  left  their  Names  recommended  to  posterity. 

[Chronicle  of  England,  1643,  under  the  heading  "Men  of  Note  in  her 
time,"  p.  120.] 

Thomas  Fuller,  1643-62. 

Benjamin  Jonson  was  born  in  this  city.  Though  I  cannot, 
with  all  my  industrious  inquiry,  find  him  in  his  cradle,  I  can 
fetch  him  from  his  long  coats.  When  a  little  child,  he  lived  in 
Harts-horn-lane  near  Charing-cross,  where  his  mother  married 
a  bricklayer  for  her  second  husband. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  277 

He  was  first  bred  in  a  private  school  in  Saint  Martin's  church; 
then  in  Westminster  school;  witness  his  own  epigram; 

'Camden,  most  reverend  head,  to  whom  I  owe 

All  that  I  am  in  arts,  all  that  I  know; 

How  nothing's  that  to  whom  my  country  owes 

The  great  renown  and  name  wherewith  she  goes,'  etc. 

He  was  statutably  admitted  into  Saint  John's  College  in  Cam 
bridge  (as  many  years  after  incorporated  an  honorary  member 
of  Christ  Church  in  Oxford)  where  he  continued  but  few  weeks 
for  want  of  further  maintenance,  being  fain  to  return  to  the  trade 
of  his  father-in-law.  And  let  them  blush  not  that  have,  but 
those  who  have  not,  a  lawful  calling.  He  helped  in  the  new 
structure  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  when,  having  a  trowel  in  his  hand, 
he  had  a  book  in  his  pocket. 

Some  gentlemen,  pitying  that  his  parts  should  be  buried  under 
the  rubbish  of  so  mean  a  calling,  did  by  their  bounty  manumise 
him  freely  to  follow  his  own  ingenious  inclinations.  Indeed  his 
parts  were  not  so  ready  to  run  of  themselves,  as  able  to  answer 
the  spur;  so  that  it  may  be  truly  said  of  him,  that  he  had  an 
elaborate  wit  wrought  out  by  his  own  industry.  He  would  sit 
silent  in  a  learned  company,  and  suck  in  (besides  wine)  their 
several  humours  into  his  observation.  What  was  ore  in  others, 
he  was  able  to  refine  to  himself. 

He  was  paramount  in  the  dramatic  part  of  poetry,  and  taught 
the  stage  an  exact  conformity  to  the  laws  of  comedians.  His 
comedies  were  above  the  volge  (which  are  only  tickled  with 
downright  obscenity),  and  took  not  so  well  at  the  first  stroke  as 
at  the  rebound,  when  beheld  the  second  time;  yea,  they  will 
endure  reading,  and  that  with  due  commendation,  so  long  as 
either  ingenuity  or  learning  are  fashionable  in  our  nation.  If  his 
later  be  not  so  spriteful  and  vigorous  as  his  first  pieces,  all  that 
are  old  will,  and  all  that  desire  to  be  old  should,  excuse  him 
therein . 

He  was  not  very  happy  in  his  children,  and  most  happy  in 
those  which  died  first,  though  none  lived  to  survive  him.  This 


278  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

he  bestowed  as  part  of  an  epitaph  on  his  eldest  son,  dying  in 
infancy : 

'Rest  in  soft  peace;  and,  ask'd,  say  here  doth  lye, 
Ben  Jonson  his  best  piece  of  poetry.' 

He  died  anno  Domini  1638 ;  and  was  buried  about  the  belfry, 
in  the  abbey  church  at  Westminster. 

*         *         *         * 

Many  were  the  wit-combates  betwixt  him  [William  Shake 
speare]  and  Ben  Johnson',  which  two  I  behold  like  a  Spanish 
Great  Gallion  and  an  English  man-of-War:  Master  Johnson 
(like  the  former)  was  built  far  higher  in  Learning;  Solid,  but 
Slow  in  his  performances.  Shakespear,  with  the  English  man- 
of-War,  lesser  in  bulk,  but  lighter  in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all 
tides,  tack  about,  and  take  advantage  of  all  winds,  by  the 
quickness  of  his  Wit  and  invention. 

[The  History  of  the  Worthies  of  England,  1662;   ed.  P.  A.  Nuttall,  1840, 
ii,  424,  iii,  284.] 

Thomas  Prujean,  1644. 

Of  Ben  Johnson's  death. 

Here  lyes  the  Fox:  then  what  neede  wee 
Fear  't  in  a  glasse  of  sack?     Be  free; 
Drink  't  off.     By  Jesus,  Ben  doth  sweare, 
Vulpona  ne'ere  shall  hurt  us  here. 

[Aurorata,  1644;  quoted  by  J.  P.  Collier,  A  Bibliographical  and  Critical 
Account  of  the  Rarest  Books  in  the  English  Language,  1866,  iii,  248.] 

Anonymous,  1644. 

Aulicus  keeps  to  the  old  way  of  devotion,  and  that  is  the  offer 
ing  up  the  incense  of  so  many  lies  and  intelligence  every  Sonday 
morning:  one  would  thinke  that  the  Judgements  which  have 
been  writ  from  heaven  against  the  prophanation  of  that  day, 
recorded  by  our  protomartyr,  Master  Burton,  should  be  able  to 
deterre  a  Diurnall  maker,  a  paper-intelligencer,  a  penny  worth  of 
newes,  but  the  Creature  hath  writ  himself e  into  a  reprobate  sense, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  279 

and  you  may  see  how  it  thrives  with  him,  for  his  braines  have 
been  wonderfully  blasted  of  late,  and  plannet-strucke,  and  he  is 
not  now  able  to  provoke  the  meanest  Christian  to  laughter 
but  lies  in  a  paire  of  joule  sheets,  a  wofull  spectacle  and  object 
of  dullnesse,  and  tribulation,  not  to  be  recovered  by  the  Protes 
tant  or  Catholique  Uguour,  either  Ale  or  strong  beer,  or  Sack,  or 
•  Claret,  or  Hippocras,  or  Muscadine,  or  Rosasolis,  which  hath 
been  reputed  formerly  by  his  Grandfather  Ben  Johnson  and  his 
Uncle  Shakespeare,  and  his  Couzen  Germains  Fletcher,  and 
Beaumont,  and  nose-lesse  Davenant,  and  Frier  Sherley  the  Poets, 
the  onely  blossoms  for  the  brain,  the  restoratives  for  the  wit, 
the  (i  Sic)  bathing  for  the  wine  muses,  but  none  of  these  are 
now  able  either  to  warme  him  into  a  quibble,  or  to  inflame  him 
into  a  sparkle  of  invention,  and  all  this  because  he  hath  pro- 
phaned  the  Sabbath  by  his  pen. 

[From  the  newspaper,  Mercurius  Brittanicus,  January  4-11,  1644.] 

Anonymous,  1644. 

There  is  no  sort  of  verse  either  ancient,  or  modern,  which  we 
are  not  able  to  equal  by  imitation;  we  have  our  English  Virgil, 
Ovid,  Seneca,  Lucan,  Juvenal,  Martial,  and  Catullus:  in  the 
Earl  of  Surry,  Daniel,  Johnson,  Spencer,  Don,  Shakespear,  and 
the  glory  of  the  rest,  Sandys  and  Sydney. 

[Vindex  Anglicus;  or  the  Perfections  of  the  English  language  defended 
and  asserted,  Oxford,  1644;  reprinted  in  the  Harleian  Miscellany, 
v,  43I-] 

Thomas  Farnaby,  1645. 
Ad  Lector es. 

Martialem  solum  a  Clariss.  viro  Petro  Scriverio  emendatum 
editumque  desiderabam,  quern  nulla  mea  aut  amicorum  cura 
parare  potuit,  cujus  tamen  vicem  non  raro  supplevit  arnica  opera 
Ben.  lonsonii  viri  (quod  quae  ille  per  ludum  scripserit,  serio 
legentibus  liquido  apparebit)  in  poetis  omnibus  versa tissimi, 
historiarum,  morum,  rituum,  antiquitatum  indagatoris  exquisi- 
tissimi,  &  (quod  semper  in  illo  adverti)  non  contend  brachio  levi 


280  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

tesqua  &  dignos  vindice  nodos  transmittere,  sed  penitissimos 
usque  sensus  ratione,  lectione,  ingenio  eruere  desudantis,  digni 
denique  (utcunque  a  probatis  merito  probetur  suo)  meliori 
theatre  quam  quo  malevolorum  invidiam  pascat,  quanquam  & 
hoc  regium  est,  posse  invidiam  cum  mereri,  turn  pati.  Ille, 
inquam,  mihi  emendationes  aliquot  suppeditavit  ex  C.  V. 
Scriverii  Martiale,  .... 

[Martialis  Epigrammata,  1645,  sig.  A6  recto.] 

Anonymous,  1645. 

...  When  Charles  came  in,  thou  didst  a  Convert  grow, 

More  by  thy  Int'rest,  than  thy  Nature  so. 

Under  his  livening  Beams  thy  Laurels  spread,      1 

He  first  did  place  that  Wreath  about  thy  Head ;  j- 

Kindly  reliev'd  thy  wants  and  gave  thee  Bread.  J 

Here  'twas  thou  mad'st  the  Bells  of  Fancy  Chime, 

And  Choak'd  the  Town  with  suffocating  Rhime. 

Till  Heroes  form'd  by  thy  creating  Pen, 

Were  grown  as  Cheap,  and  Dull,  as  other  Men, 

Flush'd  with  success,  full  Gallery  and  Pit, 

Thou  bravest  all  Mankind  with  want  of  Wit. 

Nay,  in  short  time,  wer't  grown  so  proud  a  Ninny, 

As  scarce  t'alow  that  Ben  himself  had  any. 

But  when  the  Men  of  Sense  thy  Errow  saw, 

They  chek'd  thy  Muse,  and  kept  the  Termagant  in  awe. 

[The  Laureat:   Jack  Squabb,  His  histary  in  little,  in  Musarum  Oxonien- 
sium,  1645;   reprinted  in  Poems  on  Affairs  of  State,   1703,  i,  130.] 

Anonymous,  1645. 


APOLLO. 


The  Lord  VERVLAN, 

Chancellor  of  Parnassus. 
Sir  PHILIP  SIDNEY, 

High  Constable  of  Par. 
WILLIAM  BVDEVS, 

High  Treasurer. 


ERASMUS  ROTERODAM. 
JUSTUS  LIPSIUS 
JOHN  BARCKLAY 
JOHN  BODINE 
ADRIAN  TVRNEBVS 
ISAAC  CASAVBON 


TO  BEN  JONSON 


281 


JOHN  Picvs,  Earle  of  Miran- 
dula,  High  Chamberlaine. 

JVLIVS  CESAR 
SCALIGER 

The  Jurours. 

George  Wither 
Thomas  Gary 
Thomas  May 
William  Davenant 
Josuah  Sylvester 
Georges  Sandes 
Michael  Drayton 
Francis  Beaumont 
John  Fletcher 
Thomas  Haywood 
William  Shakespeere 
Philip  Massinger 

JOSEPH  SCALIGER, 

the   censour  of   manners  in 
Parnassus. 


BEN.  JOHNSON,  Keeper  of  the 
Trophonian  Denne. 

JOHN  TAYLOVR,  Cryer  of  the 
Court. 


JOHN  SELDEN 
HVGO  GROTIVS 
DANIEL  HEINSIVS 
CONRAD vs  Vossivs 
AUGUSTINE  MASCARDUS. 

The  Malefactours . 

Mercurius  Britanicus 

Mer curias  Aulicus 

Mercurius  Civicus 

The  Scout 

The  writer  of  Diurnals 

The  Intelligencer 

The  writer  of  Occurrences 

The  writer  of  Passages 

The  Poste 

The  Spye 

The  writer  of  weekely  Accounts 

The  Scottish  Dove,  &c. 


EDMVND  SPENCER, 
Clerk  of  the  Assises. 


(The  Court  thus  set)  the  sturdy  Keeper  then 

Of  the  unhospitall  Trophonian  Den, 

His  trembling  Pris'ners  brought  unto  the  barre; 

For  sterne  aspect,  with  Mars  hee  might  compare, 

But  by  his  belly,  and  his  double  chinne, 

Hee  look'd  like  the  old  Hoste  of  a  New  Inne. 

Thus  when  sowre  Ben  his  fetter'd  cattell  had 

Shut  up  together  in  the  pinfold  sad  : 

John  Taylour,  then  the  Courts  shrill  Chanticleer e 

Did  summon  all  the  Jurours  to  appeare. 


282  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

While  Civicus  did  thus  his  tryall  heare; 

One  comes,  and  whispers  Phoebus  in  the  eare, 

And  him  advertis'd,  that  a  secret  friend 

Of  Civicus,  did  to  his  Highness  send, 

A  present  of  some  Sack,  and  sugar  loaves, 

And  that  therewith,  the  Giver  humbly  moves, 

That  the  poore  Pris'ner  might  receive  such  grace, 

As  might  be  j  ustly  found  in  such  a  case. 

Apollo  then,  in  choler  and  disdain, 

Did  thus  break  out  in  termes.     What  madness  vain, 

Or  impudence  (said  He)  in  humane  race 

Remains?     That  they  should  think  with  bribes  t 'efface 

Our  resolutions  just,  and  us  divert 

From  judgement  by  the  law,  and  by  desert; 

Then  he  the  Gaoler  call'd  for  (Honest  Ben) 

The  Keeper  fat,  of  the  Trophonian  Den: 

Him  he  commands  to  seize  upon  (in  hast) 

The  bringer  of  the  bribe,  and  keep  him  fast; 

And  since  the  Tubbe  of  which  he  told  the  tale, 

By  splitting,  had  deceiv'd  him  of  his  ale ; 

And  since  his  New-Inne  too  had  got  a  crack, 

He  bids  him  take  the  Sugar  loves,  and  Sack, 

To  make  his  lov'd  Magnatick  Lady  glad, 

That  still  (for  want  of  an  applause)  was  sad. 

[The  Great  Assises  Holden  in  Parnassus  by  Apollo  and  his  Assessours, 
1645;   reprinted  in  Publications  of  the  Spenser  Society,  pp.,   3-49, 

21-22.1 

Paul  Aylward,  1645. 

To  his  deere  friend  Mr.  Henry  Burkhead. 
You  I  preferre.     Johnson  for  all  his  wit 
Could  never  paint  out  times  as  you  have  hit 
The  manners  of  our  age :  The  fame  declines 
Of  ne're  enough  prays'd  Shakespeare  if  thy  lines 
Come  to  be  publisht:  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  skill 
Submitts  to  yours,  and  your  more  learned  quill. 
[Prefixed  to  Burkhead's  Tragedy  of  Cola's  Furie,  Kilkenny,  1645.] 


TO   BEN    JONSON  283 

Daniel  Breedy,  1645. 

Deere  friend  since  then  this  peece  so  well  limn'd 
As  most  would  thinke  'twas  by  Ben.  Johnson  trimm'd, 
That  Shakespeare,  Fletcher,  and  all  did  combine 
To  make  Lirenda  through  the  Clouds  to  shine. 

[Commendatory  lines  prefixed  to  Henry  Burkhead's  Tragedy  of  Cold's 
Furie,  Kilkenny,  1645.] 

Samuel  Sheppard,  1646. 

So  his  that  divine  Plautus  equalled, 

Whose  commick  vain  Menander  nere  could  hit, 

Whose  tragick  sceans  shall  be  with  wonder  read 

By  after  ages,  for  unto  his  wit 

My  selfe  gave  personal  ayd,  I  dictated 

To  him  when  as  Sejanus  fall  he  writ, 

And  yet  on  earth  some  foolish  sots  there  bee, 

That  dare  make  Randolf  his  rival  in  degree. 

[The  Times  Displayed  in  Six  Sestyads,  1646,  the  Sixth  Sestyad;  quoted 
from  E.  Brydges,  The  British  Bibliographer,  1810,  i,  534.] 

George  Daniel,  1646. 

To  Time  and  Honour. 
.  .  .  The  proud  Italian 
And  iustly  proud  in  Poesie,  will  allow 
The  English  (though  not  Equall)  next  him  now. 
The  noble  Sidney,  crown'd  with  liveing  Bayes; 
And  Spencer,  cheif,  (if  a  peculiar  praise 
May  pass,  and  from  the  rest  not  derogate) 
The  learned  Jonson,  whose  Dramaticke  State 
Shall  stand  admir'd  Example,  to  reduce 
Things  proper,  to  the  light,  or  buskind  Muse. 
[The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  i,  33.] 

George  Daniel,  1646. 

A  Vindication  of  Poesie. 
Here  pause  a  little;   for  I  would  not  Cloy 
The  curious  Eare,  with  recitations; 
And  meerly  looke  at  names;  attend  with  loy 


284  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Unto  an  English  Quill,  who  rivall'd  once 

Rome,  not  to  make  her  blush;   and  knowne  of  late 
Unenvied  ('cause  unequall'd)  Laureate. 

This,  this  was  lonson ;  who  in  his  owne  name 

Carries  his  praise;   and  may  he  shine  alone; 

I  am  not  tyed  to  any  generall  flame, 

Nor  fixed  by  the  Approbation 

Of  great  ones;   But  I  speake  without  pretence, 

Hee  was,  of  English  Drammatickes,  the  Prince. 

[The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  i,  29.] 

Henry  Vaughan,  1646. 

To  my  Ingenuous  Friend,  R.  W. 
When  we  are  dead,  and  now,  no  more 
Our  harmles  mirth,  our  wit,  and  score 
Distracts  the  towne;  .  .  . 
Wee'le  beg  the  world  would  be  so  kinde, 
To  give's  one  grave  as  wee'de  one  minde ; 
There — as  the  wiser  few  suspect, 
That  spirits  after  .death  affect — 
Our  soules  shall  meet;  and  thence  will  they 
— Freed  from  the  tyranny  of  clay — 
With  equall  wings,  and  ancient  love 
Into  the  Elysian  fields  remove; 
Where  in  those  blessed  walkes  they'le  find, 
More  of  thy  genius,  and  my  mind: 

First,  in  the  shade  of  his  owne  bayes, 
Great  Beh  they'le  see,  whose  sacred  layes, 
The  learned  ghosts  admire,  and  throng, 
To  catch  the  subject  of  his  song. 
Then  Randolph  in  those  holy  meades, 
His  Lovers,  and  Amyntas  reads, 
Whilst  his  Nightingall  close  by, 
Sings  his,  and  her  owne  elegie. 

[Poems,  1646;    in  The  Works  of  Henry   Vaughan,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart, 
1871,  ii,  7.     See  also  the  entry  "Henry  Tubbe,  about  1650."] 


TO.  BEN  JONSON  285 

Robert  Hills,  1647. 

To  the  most  Ingenious  Master  Robert  Baron, 

on  his  Masterpiece  of  Tragedy. 
PYTHAGORAS  sang  truth,  souls  shift  we  see 
For  JOHNSON'S  transmigrated  into  Thee: 
.  Or  if  that  Doctrines  false,  thy  glory's  more 
Without  his  helpes  to  equal,  whom  before 
We  thought  Sans  peer:  both  are  so  very  well, 
So  like,  as  mix  them,  and  you  cannot  tell 
Me  which  is  which.     Thou  Fame  enough  hast  won, 
Thy  name  is  up,  now  maist  thou  lie  till  Noon, 
And  rest  thy  strong  Muse,  having  equall'd  him 
Whom  sharpest  wits  did  our  best  Poet  deem : 
I  know  thy  Judgment's  more  than  t'aim  ought  higher, 
Thou  mightest  as  well  hope  to  drown  PHOEBUS  Lyre; 
Yet  write  again,  till  all  the  world's  agree'd 
Thy  PEGASUS  has  breath  as  well  as  speed. 
Mean  time,  who'l  number  our  best  Playes  aright 
First  CATALINE,  then  let  him  MIRZA  write, 
So  mix  your  names :  in  the  third  place  must  be 
SEIANUS,  or  the  next  that  comes  from  thee. 
[Prefixed  to  Robert  Baron's  Mirza,  1647,  sig.  A4.] 

Robert  Baron,  1647. 

Emir-hamze-mirza' s  Ghost  irritating  his  Brother  Abbas  to 
revenge  him  upon  himself,  bids  him  act  those  things  upon  his 
Son,  which  his  very  enemies  shall  pitty,  (not  without  the  example 
of  the  matchless  Johnson,  who,  in  his  Cataline  (which  miraculous 
Poem  I  propose  as  my  pattern)  makes  Sylla's  Ghost  perswade 
Catiline  to  do  what  Hannibal  could  not  wish). 

*         *         *         * 

For  the  other  ingredients  of  witchcraft  ...  I  refer  you  to 
Ovids  Met.  .  .  .  and  Master  Sandys  his  learned  comment  there 
on  :  To  Father  Lewis  Richeome,  his  Pilgrim  of  Loretto  .  .  . 
to  Delrius  disquis.  Magic,  and  to  our  elaborate  Poet  Laureat, 
Johnson,  his  Masque  of  Queens,  in  which  inimitable  Poem  he  has 


286  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

treasured  up  all  the  knowledge  of  the  Antients,  of  this  Theam, 
of  which  all  or  most  of  the  Antient  Poets  wrote  something, 
bringing  in  some  Witch. 

[Annotations  to  Robert  Baron's  Mirza,  1647,  pp.  161,  223.  For 
Baron's  extensive  indebtedness  to  Jonson,  see  J.  F.  Bradley, 
Modern  Language  Notes,  xxxiv,  402.] 

Sir  George  Lisle,  1647. 

To  the  memory  of  my  most  honoured  kinsman, 

Mr.  Francis  Beaumont. 

Great  Father  Johnson  bow'd  himselfe  when  hee 
(Thou  writ'st  so  nobly)  vow'd  he  envy'd  thee. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

, 

Sir  John  Denham,  1647. 

On  Mr.  John  Fletcher's  Workes. 
Then  was  wits  Empire  at  the  fatall  height, 
When  labouring  and  sinking  with  its  weight, 
From  thence  a  thousand  lesser  Poets  sprong, 
Like  petty  Princes  from  the  fall  of  Rome, 
When  Johnson,  Shakespeare,  and  thy  selfe  did  sit, 
And  sway'd  in  the  Triumvirate  of  wit — 
Yet  what  from  Johnsons  oyle  and  sweat  did  flow, 
Or  what  more  easie  nature  did  bestow 
Oil  Shakespeares  gentler  Muse,  in  thee  full  grown 
Their  graces  both  appeare. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

James  Ho  well,  1647. 

Upon  Master  Fletchers  Dramaticall  Workes. 
Had  now  grim  Ben  bin  breathing,  with  what  rage 
And  high-swolne  fury  had  Hee  lash'd  this  age, 
Shakespeare  with  Chapman  had  grown  madd,  and  torn 
Their  gentle  Sock,  and  lofty  Buskins  worne, 
To  make  their  Muse  welter  up  to  the  chin 
In  blood. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  287 

George  Buck,  1647. 

Let  Shakespeare,  Chapman,  and  applauded  Ben, 
'Weare  the  Eternall  merit  of  their  Pen, 
Here  I  am  love-sicke:  and  were  I  to  chuse, 
A  Mistris  corrivall  'tis  Fletcher's  Muse. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

William  Cartwright,  1647. 

Upon  the  report  of  the  printing  of  the  Dramaticall  Poems 

of  Master  John  Fletcher. 

Though  when  all  Fletcher  writ,  and  the  entire 
Man  was  indulged  unto  that  sacred  fire, 
His  thoughts,  and  his  thoughts  dresse,  appeared  both  such, 
That  'twas  his  happy  fault  to  do  too  much; 
Who  therefore  wisely  did  submit  each  birth 
To  knowing  Beaumont  e'r  it  did  come  forth, 
Working  againe,  untill  he  said  'twas  fit, 
And  made  him  the  sobriety  of  his  wit; 
Though  thus  he  call'd  his  Judge  into  his  fame, 
And  for  that  aid  allow'd  him  halfe  the  name, 
'T  is  knowne,  that  sometimes  he  did  stand  alone, 
That  both  the  Spunge  and  Pencill  were  his  owne; 
That  himself  judged  himselfe,  could  singly  do, 
And  was  at  last  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  too; 
Else  we  had  lost  his  Shepheardesse,  a  piece 
Even  and  smooth,  spun  from  a  finer  fleece, 
Where  softnesse  raignes,  where  passions  passions  greet, 
Gentle  and  high,  as  Houds  of  Balsam  meet. 
Where  dress'd  in  white  expressions,  sit  bright  Loves, 
Drawne,  like  their  fairest  Queen,  by  milkie  Doves; 
A  piece,  which  Johnson  in  a  rapture  bid 
Come  up  a  glorifi'd  Worke,  and  so  it  did. 
*         *         *         * 

Twixt  Johnsons  grave,  and  Shakespeares  lighter  sound, 
His  muse,  so  steer'd  that  something  still  was  found, 
Nor  this,  nor  that,  nor  both,  but  so  his  owne, 
That  'twas  his  marke,  and  he  was  by  it  knowne. 


288  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Another. 

Johnson  hath  writ  things  lasting,  and  divine, 
Yet  his  Love-Scenes,  Fletcher,  compar'd  to  thine, 
Are  cold  and  frosty,  and  exprest  love  so, 
As  heat  with  Ice,  or  warme  fires  mixt  with  Snow; 
Thou,  as  if  struck  with  the  same  generous  darts, 
Which  burne,  and  raigne  in  noble  Lovers  hearts, 
Hast  cloath'd  affections  in  such  native  tires, 
And  so  describ'd  them  in  their  owne  true  fires, 
Such  moving  sighes,  suc[h]  undissembled  teares, 
Such  charmes  of  language,  such  hopes  mixt  with  feares, 
Such  grants  after  denialls,  such  persuits 
After  despaire,  such  amorous  recruits, 
That  some  who  sate  spectators  have  confest 
Themselves  transform'd  to  what  they  saw  exprest, 
And  felt  such  shafts  steale  through  their  captiv'd  sence, 
As  made  them  rise  Parts,  and  goe  Lovers  thence. 

*         *         *         * 

Nor  hadst  thou  the  sly  trick,  thy  selfe  to  praise 
Under  thy  friends  names,  or  to  purchase  Bayes 
Didst  write  stale  commendations  to  thy  Booke, 
Which  we  for  Beaumonts  or  Ben  Johnsons  tooke; 
That  debt  thou  left'st  to  us,  which  none  but  he 
Can  truly  pay,  Fletcher,  who  writes  like  thee. 

[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

John  Berkenhead,  1647. 

On  the  happy  Collection  of  Master  Fletcher's  Works, 

never  before  Printed. 
Dead  and  insipid,  all  despairing  sit 
Lost  to  behold  this  great  Relapse  of  Wit: 
What  strength  remains,  is  like  that  (wilde  and  fierce) 
Till  Johnson  made  good  Poets  and  right  Verse. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

Edward  Powell,  1647. 

To  the  memorie  of  Master  Fletcher. 
So  sweet,  it  gain'd  more  ground  upon  the  Stage, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  289 

Than  Johnson  with  his  self -ad  mi  ring  rage 
Ere  lost. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

Joseph  Howe,  1647. 

In  Honour  of  Mr.  Fletcher. 
How  was  he  Ben,  when  Ben  did  write 
To  th 'stage,  not  to  his  judge  endite? 
How  did  he  doe  what  Johnson  did, 
And  Earne  what  Johnson  wou'd  have  s'ed? 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

Henry  Harrington,  1647. 

On  Mr.  Fletcher's  ever  to  be  admired  Dramaticall  Works. 
Pray  tell  me,  gallant  Wits,  could  Criticks  think 
There  ere  was  solecisme  in  Fletchers  Inke? 
Or  Lapse  of  Plot,  or  fancy  in  his  pen? 
A  happinesse  not  still  alow'd  to  Ben! 
After  of  Time  and  Wit  h'ad  been  at  cost 
He  of  his  owne  New-Inne  was  but  an  Hoste. 
[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 

Richard  Brome,  1647. 

To  the  memory  of  the  deceased  but  ever-living  Authour  in  these 

his  Poems,  Mr.  John  Fletcher. 
While  this  of  Fletcher  and  his  Works  I  speaker 
His  Works  (says  Momus)  nay,  his  Plays  you'd  say: 
Thou  hast  said  right,  for  that  to  him  was  Play 
Which  was  to  others  braines  a  toyle.  .  .  . 
Most  knowing  Johnson  (proud  to  call  him  Sonne) 
In  friendly  Envy  swore,  He  had  out-done 
His  very  Selfe. 

[Prefixed  to  the  1647  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.     The  first  four 
lines  allude  to  Jonson's  having  called  his  plays  "  Workes."] 

Henry  Vaughan,  1647. 

Upon  Mr.  Fletcher's  Playes  Published  1647. 
This,  or  that  age  may  write,  but  never  see 
A  wit  that  dares  run  paralell  with  thee. 
20 


290  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

True,  Ben  must  live!  but  bate  him,  and  thou  hast 
Undone  all  future  wits,  and  match'd  the  past. 

[Olor  Iscanus,  1651;  in  The  Works  of  Henry  Vaughan,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart, 
1871,  ii,  102.] 

Robert  Herrick,  before  1648. 

Upon  Ben  Jonson. 
Here  lyes  Johnson  with  the  rest 
Of  the  Poets;  but  the  Best. 
Reader,  wo'dst  thou  more  have  known? 
Aske  his  Story,  not  this  Stone. 
That  will  speake  what  this  can't  tell 
Of  his  glory.     So  farewell. 
[Hesperides,  1648.] 

Robert  Herrick,  before  1648. 

An  Ode  for  Him. 
Ah  Ben! 

Say  how,  or  when 
Shall  we  thy  Guests 
Meet  at  those  Lyrick  Feasts, 
Made  at  the  Sun, 
The  Dog,  the  triple  Tunne? 
Where  we  such  clusters  had, 
As  made  us  nobly  wild,  not  mad; 
And  yet  each  Verse  of  thine 
Out-did  the  meate,  out-did  the  frolick  wine. 

My  Ben ! 
Or  come  agen: 
Or  send  to  us, 
Thy  wits  great  over-plus ; 
But  teach  us  yet 
Wisely  to  husband  it; 
Lest  we  that  Tallent  spend : 
And  having  once  brought  to  an  end 
That  precious  stock;  the  store 
Of  such  a  wit  the  world  sho'd  have  no  more. 
[Hesperides,  1648.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  291 

Robert  Herrick,  before  1648. 

Upon  M.  Ben.  Johnson.  Epig. 
After  the  rare  Arch-Poet  Johnson  dy'd, 
The  Sock  grew  loathsome,  and  the  Buskins  pride, 
Together  with  the  Stages  glory  stood 
Each  like  a  poore  and  pitied  widowhood. 
The  Cirque  prophan'd  was;  and  all  postures  rackt: 
For  men  did  strut,  and  stride,  and  stare,  not  act. 
Then  temper  flew  from  words ;  and  men  did  squake, 
Looke  red,  and  blow,  and  bluster,  but  not  speake: 
No  Holy-Rage,  or  frantick-fires  did  stirre, 
Or  flash  about  the  spacious  Theater. 
No  clap  of  hands,  or  shout,  or  praises-proofe 
Did  crack  the  Play-house  sides,  or  cleave  her  roofe. 
Artlesse  the  Sceane  was;  and  that  monstrous  sin 
Of  deep  and  arrant  ignorance  came  in ; 
Such  ignorance  as  theirs  was,  who  once  hist 
At  thy  unequal'd  Play,  the  Alchymist: 
Oh  fie  upon  'em!     Lastly  too,  all  witt 
In  utter  darkenes  did,  and  still  will  sit 
Sleeping  the  lucklesse  Age  out,  till  that  she 
Her  Resurrection  ha's  again  with  Thee. 
[Hesperides,  1648.] 

Robert  Herrick,  before  1648. 

His  Prayer  to  Ben  Johnson. 
When  I  a  Verse  shall  make, 
Know  I  have  praid  thee, 
For  old  Religions  sake, 
Saint  Ben  to  aide  me. 

Make  the  way  smooth  for  me, 
When  I,  thy  Herrick, 
Honouring  thee,  on  my  knee 
Offer  my  Lyrick. 

Candles  He  give  to  thee, 
And  a  new  Altar; 


292  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  thou  Saint  Ben,  shalt  be 
Writ  in  my  Psalter. 
[Hesperides,  1648.] 

Thomas  Bradford,  1648. 
Here  is  a  Chimist  which  from  a  rude  masse 
Extracts  Elixar  that  death  may  well  surpasse 
Spencer's  ninth  Canto  in  the  fairy  Queene, 
Or  Ben's  Vulpony,  oh  had  he  but  seene 
Thy  pregnant  fancy,  how  could  he  forebeare 
To  rend  his  Cat' line  and  by  Jove  to  sweare 
Thy'ns  the  better. 
'  [Prefixed  to  Robert  Baron's  Cyprian  Academy,  1648.] 

Anonymous,  1648. 
Wednesday  the  27  of  December. 

From  Windsor  came  to  White-Hall  this  day  thus.  That  the 
King  is  pretty  merry,  and  spends  much  time  in  reading  of  Sermon 
Books,  and  sometimes  Shakspeare  and  Ben:  Johnsons  Playes. 

[Perfect  Occurrences  of  Every  Dales  iournall  in  Parliament,  Proceedings 
with  His  Majesty,  and  other  moderate  intelligence,  No.  104,  Fryday, 
Dec.  22  to  Fryday,  Dec.  30,  1648.} 

George  Daniel,  1648. 

.  .  .  But  what  Stile 
Carries  a  Buskin  deep  enough  to  Sing 
Royall  Distresses  and  lament  a  King? 
Call  Suckling  from  his  Ashes,  reinspir'd 
With  an  Elizian  Trance;   .  .  . 
Oh!  he  may  Speake,  or  lonson's  numerous  Soule 
(Now  great  as  Pindar's)  might  these  Gests  enroll ; 
But  then,  alas,  the  greife  is  where  it  lay; 
They  sing  too  high;  wee  know  not  what  they  Say; 
For  earth  is  dull,  and  may  not  comprehend 
Those  heights  of  wonder  which  they  else  have  pen'd. 

[IIOATAOriA;  or  Several  Ecloges;  in  The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  ed. 
A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  ii,  195.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  293 

John  Cook,  1649. 

He  [Charles]  was  no  more  affected  with  a  list  that  was  brought 
in  to  Oxford  of  five  or  six  thousand  slain  at  Edgehill,  than  to 
read  one  of  Ben.  Johnson's  tragedies. 

*         *         *         * 

Had  he  [Charles]  but  studied  Scripture  half  so  much  as  Ben. 
Johnson  or  Shakespear,  he  might  have  learnt  that  when  Amaziah 
was  setled  in  the  kingdon,  he  suddenly  did  justice  upon  those 
servants  which  had  killed  his  father  Joash. 

[King  Charles  his  Case,  1649;    reproduced  in  The  Somers  Collection  of 
Tracts,  1811,  v,  215,  219.] 

Anonymous,  1649. 

Though  Johnson,  Shakespeare,  Goffe,  and  Davenant, 
Brave  Sucklin,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Shurley  want 
The  life  of  action,  and  their  learned  lines 
Are  loathed  by  the  Monsters  of  the  times; 
Yet  your  refined  Soules,  can  penetrate 
Their  depth  of  merit,  and  excuse  their  Fate. 

[The  Famous  Tragedie  of  King  Charles  /,  Basely  Butchered,  1649,  p.  4. 
The  Prologue  to  the  Gentry.] 

Henry  Tubbe,  about  1650. 

.  .  .When  Thou  &  I, 

That  never  single  were,  must  part  and  dyer 
Our  Freinds  (I  hope)  will  be  so  liberall 
And  kind,  to  let  us  have  one  Buriall, 
One  Grave  to  blend  our  Ashes,  as  one  Life 
Did  mix  our  equall  Hearts  with  mutuall  strife 
Of  Friendship  &  Delight.     There  (as  Wise  Merc 
Beleeve,  that  Love  lives  after  Death)  agen 
Our  Spirits  shall  intermix,  &  weave  their  Knots* 
Free  from  the  trouble  of  these  earthly  Grotts ; 
Thence  winged  flic  to  the  Elysian  Groves, 
Where,  whilst  wee  still  renew  our  constant  Loves, 
A  Thousand  Troops  of  Learned  Ghosts  shall  meet 
Us,  and  our  coming  thither  gladly  greet. 
First  the  Great  Shadow  of  Renowned  BEN 


294  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Shall  give  us  hearty,  joyfull  Wellcome:  then 
Ingenious  Randolph  from  his  lovely  Arms 
Shall  entertaine  us  with  such  mighty  charms 
Of  strict  embraces,  that  wee  cannot  wish 
For  any  comforts  greater  than  this  Blisse. 

[From  Harl.  MS.,  4126;    reproduced  in  Oxford  Historical  and  Literary 
Studies,  v,  65.     Cf.  the  entry  "Henry  Vaughan,  1646."] 

Robert  Wilde,  about  1650. 

Invention].     May  I  be  so  bold  as  to  peruse  your  Library? 
Ped[anto\.     Yes  Sir,  if  you  please;  see  the  Books  I  have  bor 
rowed  for  the  Business. 

[Invention  takes  up  the  Books,  looks  in  them,  and  speaks.} 
*     *     *     * 

Ben.  Johnson. 
Invent. 

Great  Brick-bat  Ben,  the  Envy  of  thy  Days! 
Thy  only  English  Brow  deserves  the  Bays. 
Others  did  wear  the  Ivy-Bush  as  Sign, 
Not  of  their  Wit,  but,  Lattice-face,  and  Wine. 
But  thy  Industrious  Brain  (great  Ben!}  did  seem 
To  make  the  Lawrel,  which  thou  wore,  grow  Green. 
Thine  are  the  Tragicks  and  the  Comick  Lays; 
And  thou'rt  th'Refiner  of  our  Drossy  Phrase; 
And  so  thy  Alchymy,  I  dare  behold, 
Hath  turn'd  our  baser  Mettal  into  Gold. 

Fur[or  Poeticus].  Pritty!  Pritty!'  .  .  .  Every  half  quarter  of 
•an  Hour  a  glass  of  Sack  must  be  sent  of  an  Errand  into  his  Guts, 
to  tell  his  Brains  they  must  come  up  quickly,  and  help  out  with 
a  Line. — So  take  him  Jaylor. 

Shakspear. 
Invent. 

His  Quill  as  quick  as  Feather  from  the  Bow! 
O  who  can  such  another  Falstaff  show? 
And  if  thy  Learning  had  been  like  thy  Wit, 
Ben  would  have  blusht,  and  Johnson  never  writ. 

[The  Benefice,  1689,  sigs.  A4  verso,  BI  verso.     The  coarseness  of  the 
language  prevents  the  passage  from  being  cited  entire.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  295 

Anonymous,  1651. 

Now  men  may  see,  how  much  reason  Ben.  Jonson  had,  when 
as,  lying  sicke  in  his  bed,  very  poore,  and  that  after  much  im 
portunity  of  Courtiers,  ten  pounds  were  sent  to  him  by  the  King, 
after  the  receit  of  which,  Ben.  threw  them  through  the  glasse 
windowes,  saying,  this  mans  soule  was  not  fit  to  live  in  an  alley. 

And  this  said  mans  soule,  was  more  fixt  on  Bens  verses,  and 
other  Romances,  during  the  time  of  his  imprisonment,  then  on 
those  holy  Writs,  wherein  salvation  is  to  be  sought  for  the  soul, 
as  well  as  for  the  body. 

[The  None- Such  Charles,  his  Character,  1651,  p.  170.] 

F.  J.,  1651. 

The  Preface  to  the  Reader. 

.  .  .  Tom  Randal,  the  adopted  son  of  Ben  Jonson,  being1  the 
translator  hereof,  followed  his  father's  steps;  they  both  of  them 
loved  sack  and  harmless  mirth. 

[Prefixed  to  Thomas  Randolph's  Hey  for  Honesty,  1651.] 

Samuel  Sheppard,  1651. 

On  Mr.  Davenants  most  excellent  Tragedy  oj  Albovine 

k[ing]  of  [the]  Lombards. 
Shakespeares  Othello,  Johnsons  Catiline, 
Would  lose  their  luster,  were  thy  Albovine 
Placed  betwixt  them. 

[Epigrams   Theological,  Philosophical,  and  Romantick,   1651,   Book  4, 
Epigram  30.] 

J.  S.,  1651. 

To  the  Reader. 

The  true  and  primary  intent  of  the  Tragedians  and  Corn- 
medians  of  old,  was  to  magnifie  Virtue  and  to  depress  Vice; 
And  you  may  observe  throughout  the  Works  of  incomparable 
Johnson,  excellent  Shakespear,  and  elegant  Fletcher,  &c.,  they 
(however  vituperated  by  some  streight-laced  brethren  not  capable 
of  their  sublimity,)  aim  at  no  other  end. 

[An  excellent  Comedy,  called  the  Prince  of  Priggs  revels,  1651.] 


296  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1651. 

To  the  Reader. 

'.  .  .  There  are  can  witness,  that  our  ablest  Judge  &  Professor 
of  Poesie,  said  with  some  passion,  My  Son  Cartwright  writes  all 
like  a  Man:  you'l  soon  guess  'twas  Ben  lonson  spake  it:  What 
had  Ben  said  had  he  read  his  own  eternity  in  that  lasting  Elegy 
given  him  by  our  Author,  or  that  other  Latine  one  by  our  Author's 
Friend  Mr.  Robert  Waring,  neither  of  which  Peeces  are  easie  to 
be  imitated. 

[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright 's  Comedies,  Tragi-  Comedies,  With  other 
Poems,  1651.  Possibly  the  writer  was  Humphrey  Moseley,  the 
publisher.] 

Sir  Robert  Stapylton,  1651. 

On  Mr.  Cartwright  and  his  Poems. 
All  Poets  graces  may  in  him  be  read, 
Why  should  not  all  their  Bayes  then  crown  his  head  ? 
'Tis  true,  he's  of  our  Authors  last  set  forth, 
But  last  in  Order  is  the  first  in  Worth: 
If  Time  be  measur'd  by  an  hour-glass  run, 
He  may  be  Johnson's  Grand-Child,  Fletcher's  Son. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.] 

W.  Towers,  1651. 

On  Mr.  William  Cartwright's  surviving  Poems. 
How  did  the  factious  London-Wits  first  praise, 
And  then  with  slanderous  But  maligne  thy  Bayes!  .  .  . 
And  thus  thy  Father  Johnson  (since  naught  can 
Besides  the  Sun  and  Man,  beget  a  Man, 
Phoebus  and  He  thy  (Sire)  was  hiss'd  at  still 
More  with  the  Fools  Goose-Tongue,  than  the  Goose-Quil ; 
Only  'cause  his  Theorbo  did  so  much 
Excell  their  Crowd,  and  jarring  Cyttern  Touch. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.] 

William  Stanton,  1651. 

To  the  Memory  of  the  deceased  Author,  Mr.  William  Cartwright. 
O  could  we  mourn  thy  Fall  with  such  a  Verse 
As  thou  didst  powre  on  honour'd  Johnson's  Hearse! 


TO  BEN  JONSON  297 

An  Elegie  so  high  and  wisely  writ, 
It  shews  who  is  and  who  is  not  a  Wit; 
Which  had  He  liv'd  to  read,  He  had  defi'd 
All  the  mad  World,  having  Thee  on  his  side; 
For  Thou  so  praisest  Him,  thy  Eulogy 
Still  dwels  on  Him,  and  yet  rebounds  to  Thee; 
Thine  and  His  Temples  jointly  Crown'd:  elsewhere 
Thou  outwrit'st  Others,  but  thy  own  self  there. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.] 

Francis  Vaughan,  1651. 

On  Mr.  William  Cartwright's  excellent  Poems. 
.  .  .  Cartwright,  till  now,  we  could  have  dress'd  thy  Shrine; 
For  'twas  but  stealing  some  good  Peece  of  thine; 
Swear  it  our  own,  subscribe  our  names  unto't, 
And  heretofore  they  made  no  bone  to  do't, 
Who  having  robb'd  thee,  cry  'tis  Scholars  Wit; 
And  then  the  needy  Gallants  think  th'are  quit: 
(So  the  Arrested  Knight  told  Standers-by, 
These  are  poor  Folk,  they  come  to  beg  of  me.} 
Thus  Jonson  is  decry 'd  by  some  who  fleece 
His  Works,  as  much  as  he  did  Rome  or  Greece: 
They  judge  it  lawfull  Prize,  doing  no  more 
To  him,  than  he  to  those  that  dy'd  before; 
Why  do  they  then  let  Merchants  Ships  go  free, 
Who  but  translate,  worse  Ware,  and  worse  than  He? 
These  East-and- West-Translators,  not  like  Ben, 
Do  but  enrich  Themselves,  He  other  men. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.] 

William  Bell,  1651. 

To  the  Memory  of  Mr.  William  Cartwright. 
How  had  we  lost  both  Mint,  and  Coyn  too,  were 
That  salvage  love  still  fashionable  here, 
To  sacrifice  upon  the  Funerall  Wood 
All,  the  deceas'd  had  e'r  held  deer  and  good! 
We  would  bring  all  our  speed,  to  ransome  thine 
With  Don's  rich  Gold,  and  Johnson's  silver  Mine; 


298  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Then  to  the  pile  add  all  that  Fletcher  writ, 
Stamp'd  by  thy  Character  a  currant  Wit: 
Suckling's  Ore,  with  Sherley's  small  mony,  by 
Heywoods  old  Iron,  and  Shakspear's  Alchemy. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.} 

Jasper  Mayne,  1651. 
To  the  deceased  Author  of  these  Poems. 
For  thou  to  Nature  had'st  joyn'd  Art,  and  skill, 
In  Thee  Ben  Johnson  still  held  Shakespear's  Quill; 
A  Quill,  rul'd  by  sharp  Judgement,  and  such  Laws, 
As  a  well  studied  Mind,  and  Reason  draws. 
[Prefixed  to  William  Cartwright's  Comedies,  etc.,  1651.] 

R.  C.,  1651. 

To  the  Reader. 

The  strength  of  his  [Bosworth's]  fancy,  and  the  shadowing  of 
it  in  words,  he  taketh  from  Mr.  Marlow  in  his  Hero  and  Leander, 
whose  mighty  lines  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson  (a  man  sensible 
enough  of  his  own  abilities)  was  often  heard  to  say,  that  they 
were  examples  fitter  for  admiration  than  for  parallel. 

[Prefixed  to  William  Bosworth's  The  Chast  and  Lost  Lovers,  1651.] 

Anonymous,  1652. 

Poeta  is  her  Minion,  to  whom  she  [Eloquentia]  resignes  the 
whole  government  of  her  Family.  .  .  .  Ovid  she  makes  Major- 
domo.  Homer  because  a  merry  Greek,  Master  of  the  Wine- 
Cellars.  Aretine  (for  his  skill  in  Postures)  growing  old,  is  made 
Pander.  Shack-Spear,  Butler.  Ben  Johnson,  Clark  of  the 
Kitchin,  Fenner  his  Turn-spit,  And  Taylor  his  Scullion. 

[A  Hermeticall  Banquet,  drest  by  a  Spagiricall  Cook,  1652,  p.  35.] 

John  Martyn,  Henry  Herringham,  and  Richard  Mariot,  1652. 

The  Booksellers  to  the  Reader. 

If  our  care  and  endeavours  to  do  our  Authors  right  (in  an 
incorrupt  and  genuine  Edition  of  their  Works)  and  thereby  to 
gratifie  and  oblige  the  Reader,  be  but  requited  with  a  suitable 
entertainment,  we  shall  be  encourag'd  to  bring  Ben  Johnson's 


TO  BEN  JONSON  299 

two  volumes  into  one,  and  publish  them  in  this  form;   and  also 
to  reprint  Old  Shakespear:  both  which  are  designed  by 

yours, 

Ready  to  serve  you. 
[Prefixed  to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  The  Wild-Goose  Chase,  1652.] 

Title-page,  1652. 

The  Widow  A  Comedie.  As  it  was  Acted  at  the  private 
House  in  Black-Fryers  with  great  Applause,  by  His  late  Majesties 
Servants.  Written  by  Ben:  Jonson.  John  Fletcher.  Tho: 
Middleton.  Gent.  Printed  by  the  Originall  Copy  ...  for 
Humphrey  Moseley  .  .  .  1652. 

Alexander  Gough,  1652. 

To  the  Reader. 

Considering  how  the  curious  pay  some  part  of  their  esteem  to 
excellent  persons  in  the  careful  preservation  but  of  their  defaced 
statues;  instead  of  decayed  medals  of  the  Romans'  greatness, 
I  believe  it  of  more  value  to  present  you  this  lively  piece,  drawn 
by  the  art  of  Jonson,  Fletcher,  and  Middleton,  which  is  thought 
to  have  a  near  resemblance  to  the  portraiture  we  have  in  Terence 
of  those  worthy  minds,  where  the  great  Scipio  and  Laelius  strove 
to  twist  the  poet's  ivy  with  the  victor's  bays.  .  .  .  Since  our 
own  countrymen  are  not  in  anything  inferior,  it  were  to  be  wished 
they  had  but  so  much  encouragement. 
[Prefixed  to  The  Widow,  1652.] 

John  Hall,  1652. 

To  Master  Richard  Brome,  on  his  Play,  called,  A  Joviall  Crew. 
Playes  are  instructive  Recreations: 
Which,  who  would  write,  may  not  expect,  at  once, 
No,  nor  with  every  breeding,  to  write  well. 
And,  though  some  itching  Academicks  fell 
Lately  upon  this  Task,  their  Products  were 
Lame  and  imperfect;  and  did  grate  the  eare; 
So,  that  they  mock'd  the  stupid  Stationers  care, 
That  both  with  Guelt  and  Cringes  did  prepare 


300  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Fine  Copper-Cuts;  and  gather'd  Verses  too, 
To  make  a  Shout  before  the  idle  Show. 

Your  Fate  is  other:  You  do  not  invade; 
But  by  great  Johnson  were  made  free  o'th' Trade. 
So,  that  we  must  in  this  your  Labour  finde 
Some  Image  and  fair  Relique  of  his  Minde. 
[Prefixed  to  Richard  Brome's  A  Joviall  Crew,  1652.] 

John  Tatham,  1652. 

To  my  Worthy  Friend  Master  Richard  Brome,  on  his  excellent 

Play,  called,  A  Joviall  Crew. 
There  is  a  Faction  (Friend)  in  Town,  that  cries, 
Down  with  the  Dagon-Poet,  Johnson  dies. 
His  Works  were  too  elaborate,  not  fit 
To  come  within  the  Verge,  01  face  of  Wit. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  (they  say)  perhaps,  might 
Passe  (well)  for  currant  Coin,  in  a  dark  night: 
But  Shakespeare  the  Plebean  Driller,  was 
Founder'd  in's  Pericles,  and  must  not  pass. 
And  so,  at  all  men  flie,  that  have  but  been 
Thought  worthy  of  Applause;  therefore,  their  spleen. 
Ingratefull  Negro-kinde,  dart  you  your  Rage 
Against  the  Beams  that  warm'd  you,  and  the  Stage!  .  . 
Some  hopes  left  us,  that  this,  thy  well-wrought  Piece, 
May  bring  it  Cure,  reduce  it  to  its  sight, 
To  judge  th'  difference  'twixt  the  Day,  and  Night; 
Draw  th'  Curtain  of  their  Errours;  that  their  sense 
May  be  comformable  to  Ben's  Influence; 
And  finding  here,  Nature  and  Art  agree, 
May  swear,  thou  liv'st  in  Him,  and  he  in  Thee. 
[Prefixed  to  Richard  Brome's  A  Joviall  Crew,  1652.! 

Francis  Kirkman,  1652. 

To  His  much  honored  Friend,  Wil.  Beeston,  Esq. 

Worthy  Sir, 

Divers  times  (in  my  hearing)  to  the  admiration  of  the  whol 
Company,  you  have  most  judiciously  discoursed  of  Poesie.  ... 
I  am  vers'd  in  Forraign  tongues  and  subscribe  to  your  opinion, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  301 

that  no  Nation  ever  could  glory  in  such  Playes,  as  the  most 
learned  and  incomparable  Johnson,  the  copious  Shakespear,  or 
the  ingenuous  Fletcher  compos'd. 

[Prefixed  to  The  Loves  and  Adventures  of  Clerico  &  Lozia,  1652.] 

J.  Hall,  1653. 

And  though  I  do  not  tell  you,  how  you  dress 
Virtue  in  glories,  and  bold  vice  depress, 
Nor  celebrate  your  lovely  Dutchess'  fall, 
Or  the  just  ruin  of  your  Cardinal; 
Yet  this  I  dare  assert,  when  men  have  nam'd 
Jonson,  the  nation's  laureat,  the  fam'd 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  he  that  wo'not  see 
Shirley  the  fourth,  must  forfeit  his  best  eye. 

[Commendatory  verses  on  James  Shirley's  The  Cardinal,  1653.  The 
writer  was  probably  the  "Jo.  Hall"  who  prefixed  commendatory 
verses  to  Shirley's  The  Grateful  Servant.] 

Richard  Fleckno,  1653. 

From  thence  passing  on  to  Black-fryers,  and  seeing  never  a 
Play-bil  on  the  Gate,  no  Coaches  on  the  place,  nor  Doorkeeper  at 
the  Play-house  door,  with  his  Boxe  like  a  Church-warden,  desiring 
you  to  remember  the  poor  Players,  I  cannot  but  say  for  Epilogue 
to  all  the  Playes  were  ever  Acted  there : 

Poor  House,  that  in  dayes  of  our  Grand-sires, 

Belongst  unto  the  Mendiant  Fryers: 

And  where  so  oft  in  our  Fathers  dayes 

We  have  seen  so  many  of  Shakspears  Playes. 

So  many  of  Johnsons,  Beaumonts,  &  Fletchers, 

Untill  I  know  not  what  Puritan  Teachers : 

(Who  for  their  Tone,  their  Language,  &  Action, 

Might  'gainst  the  Stage  make  Bedlam  a  faction) 

Have  made  with  their  Raylings  the  Players  as  poore 

As  were  the  Fryers  and  Poets  before: 

Since  th'ast  the  tricke  on't  all  Beggars  to  make, 

I  wish  for  the  Scotch-Presbyterian's  sake 


302  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

To  comfort  the  Players  and  Fryers  not  a  little, 
Thou  mayst  be  turn'd  to  a  Puritan  spittle. 
[Miscellania,  1653,  p.  141.] 

Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  1653. 

A  Prceludium  to  Mr.  Richard  Brome's  Playes. 
Then  we  shall  still  have  Playes!  and  though  we  may 
Not  tlfem  in  their  full  Glories  yet  display; 
Yet  we  may  please  our  selves  by  reading  them, 
Till  a  more  Noble  Act  this  Act  condemne. 
Happy  will  that  day  be,  which  will  advance 
This  Land  from  durt  of  precise  Ignorance; 
Distinguish  Morall  Virtue,  and  Rich  Wit, 
And  gracefull  Action,  from  an  unfit 
Parenthesis  of  Coughs,  and  Hums,  and  Haes, 
Threshing  of  Cushions,  and  Tautologies. 
Then  the  dull  Zelots  shall  give  way,  and  flye, 
Or  be  converted  by  bright  Poesie. 
Apollo  may  enlighten  them,  or  else 
In  Scottish  Grots  they  may  conceale  themselves, 
Then  shall  Learn 'd  Johnson  reassume  his  Seat, 
Revive  the  Phcenix  by  a  second  heat. 
Create  the  Globe  anew,  and  people  it, 
By  those  that  flock  to  surfet  on  his  Wit. 
Judicious  Beaumont,  and  th'Ingenious  Soule 
Of  Fletcher  too  may  move  without  controule. 
Shakespeare  (most  rich  in  Humours)  entertaine  ' 
The  crowded  Theaters  with  his  happy  veine. 
Davenant  and  Massinger,  and  Sherley,  then 
Shall  be  cry'd  up  againe  for  Famous  men. 
And  the  Dramatick  Muse  no  longer  prove 
The  peoples  Malice,  but  the  peoples  Love. 
Black,  and  white  Fryers  too,  shall  flourish  againe, 
Though  here  have  bin  none  since  Queen  Mary's  reign. 
Our  Theaters  of  lower  note  in  those 
More  happy  daies,  shall  scorne  the  rustick  Prose 
Of  a  Jack-pudding,  and  will  please  the  Rout, 
With  wit  enough  to  beare  their  Credit  out. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  303 

The  Fortune  will  be  lucky,  see  no  more 
Her  Benches  bare,  as  they  have  stood  before. 
The  Bull  take  Courage  from  Applauses  given, 
To  Eccho  to  the  Taurus  in  the  Heaven. 

Lastly,  St.  James  may  no  aversion  show, 
That  Socks,  and  Buskins  tread  this  Stage  below. 
May  this  Time  quickly  come,  those  daies  of  Blisse 
Drive  Ignorance  down  to  the  dark  Abisse. 
Then  (with  a  justly  attributed  praise) 
Wee'l  change  our  faded  Broom,  to  deathlesse  Baies. 
[Prefixed  to  Five  New  Playes,  1653.] 

Title-page,  1654. 

The  Harmony  of  the  Muses,  or  the  Gentlemans  and  Ladies 
Choicest  Recreation;  Full  of  various  pure  and  transcendent 
Wit,  containing  severall  excellent  Poems,  Some  Fancies  of  Love, 
some  of  Disdain,  &c.  written  by  those  unimi table  Masters  of 
Learning  and  Invention,  Dr.  Joh.  Donn,  Dr.  H.  King,  Dr.  W. 
Stroad,  Sir  K.  Digby,  Mr.  Ben  Johnson,  Mr.  F.  Beaumont,  J. 
Cleveland,  T.  Randolph,  T.  Carew.  London,  Printed  by  T.  W. 
for  W.  Gilbertson,  1654. 

Edmund  Gayton,  1654. 

There  is  not  of  all  that  expencefull  madnesse  so  much  left  for 
profit  or  recreation,  as  the  History  of  that  Quixo-Philosophy,  or 
Philosophers,  unlesse  what  is  most  admirably  Satyriz'd  by  our 
Father  Ben  (of  eternall  memory)  in  his  Play  of  the  Alchymist: 

Spectatum  admissi  Risum  teneatis  Amid?  Which  would  move 
laughter  most,  our  Dons  encountring  his  Windmill,  or  his  Lord 
ship  at  the  Furnace?  Being  Subtle,  Face,  Lungs,  and  all :  Bestow 
a  brace  of  tassled  Caps  upon  them  both,  and  so  exeant.  (P.  3.) 
*  *  *  * 

How  snakelike  he  gathers,  and  incircles  himselfe,  under  the 
covert  of  his  Target,  which  was  so  peal'd  with  stones,  and  rung 
as  loud,  that  the  Don  was  not  much  unlike  a  rattle  snake,  that 
Politick  Sir  under  the  Tortoise  shell,  nor  he  that  was  shewn  for 
the  Fish.  (P.  11.) 


304  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Wherein,  besides  these  books  of  Infamous  losse,  were  the 
severall  duels,  onslaughts,  stormes,  and  military  performances, 
of  the  two  never  to  be  reconciled  families,  (like  the  Capulets  and 
the  Mountchensies,  Eteodeans,  and  Polyniceans,  Douglasses  and 
Percies,  Guelfs  and  Guibblins)  of  enraged  Sr.  John  Daw,  and 
incensed  Sr  Amorous  La- Fool.  (P.  19.) 

*  *         *         * 

We  will  therefore  end  this  perplexed  piece  of  controversy 
(as  our  father  Ben  hath  given  example,)  who  dedicating  his 
Fox  to  the  two  Universities  of  this  Hand,  Fox-like  (knowing  they 
alwaies  quarrelled  for  Antiquity)  in  a  most  handsome  and 
unenviable  compellation,  stil'd  them  most  equall  Sisters.  (P.  20.) 

*  *         *         * 

Father  Ben  (when  one  unhappily  mulcted  for  peeping  into 
holes,  he  had  no  right  to,  swore  he  had  got  a  clap,  which  he 
called  the  French  Pox)  was  worthily  wroth  at  the  expression, 
and  in  a  fume,  said,  why  not  (Sr)  the  English  Pox?  We  have 
as  good  and  as  large,  as  they  have  any.  (P.  21.) 

*  *         *         * 

Our  Fairy  Queen,  the  Arcadia,  Drayton,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
Shakespeare,  Johnson,  Randolph;  and  lastly,  Gondibert,  are  of 
eternall  fame.  (P.  21.) 

*  *         *         * 

This  Affaire  is  much  manag'd  by  Matrons  in  our  Clime,  unlesse 
it  be  when  both  Parents  consent  in  the  Construpation  of  a 
Daughter;  then  (as  my  Father  Ben  saith)  they  cannot  be 
matched.  (P.  120.) 

*  *         *         * 

With  strenuous  Complements,  (above  the  School, 
Of  Sr  John  Daw,  or  Amorous  La  Fool.)     (P.  129.) 

*  *         *         * 

Our  Nation  also  hath  had  its  Poets,  and  they  their  wives: 
To  passe  the  Bards;  Sr  Jeffery  Chaucer  liv'd  very  honestly  at 
Woodstock,  with  his  Lady,  (the  house  yet  remaining)  and  wrote 
against  the  vice  most  wittily,  which  Wedlock  restraines.  My 
Father  Ben  begate  sonnes  and  daughters;  so  did  Spencer, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  305 

Drayton,  Shakespeare,  and  more  might  be  reckoned,  who  doe 
not  only  word  it,  and  end  in  aiery  Sylvia's,  Galataea's,  Aglaura's; 

sedde  virtute  locuti, 

clunem  agitant .     (P.  150.) 

*  *         *         * 

And  although  the  onfy  Laureat  of  our  stage  (having  compos'd 
a  Play  of  excellent  worth,  but  not  of  equall  applause)  fell  downe 
upon  his  knees,  and  gave  thanks,  that  he  had  transcended  the 
capacity  of  the  vulgar;  yet  his  protestation  against  their  igno 
rance,  was  not  sufficient  to  vindicate  the  misapplication  of  the 
argument;  for  the  judicious  part  of  the  Auditory  condemn'd  it 
equally  with  those  that  did  not  understand  it,  and  though  the 
Comedy  wanted  not  its 

prodesse,  &  delectare, 

Had  it  been  exhibited  to  a  scholastick  confluence;  yet  men 
come  not  to  study  at  a  Play-house,  but  love  such  expressions 
and  passages,  which  with  ease  insinuate  themselves  into  their 
capacities.  (P.  271.) 

*  *         *         * 

An  Inigo  Jones  for  scenes,  and  a  Ben  Johnson  for  Playes, 
would  have  wrought  great  cures  upon  the  stage,  and  it  was  so 
well  reform'd  in  England,  and  growne  to  that  height  of  Language, 
and  gravity  of  stile,  dependency  of  parts,  possibility  of  plot, 
compasse  of  time,  and  fulnesse  of  wit,  that  it  was  not  any  where 
to  be  equall'd;  nor  are  the  contrivers  asham'd  to  permit  their 
playes  (as  they  were  acted)  to  the  publick  censure,  where  they 
stand  firme,  and  are  read  with  as  much  satisfaction,  as  when 
presented  on  the  stage,  they  were  with  applause  and  honour. 
Indeed  their  names  now  may  very  well  be  chang'd  &  call'd  the 
works  not  Playes  of  lohnson,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Cartwright, 
and  the  rest,  which  are  survivers  of  the  stage;  that  having  fain, 
not  into  Court-Reformers,  but  more  severe  correctors,  who 
knowing  not  how  to  amend  or  repaire,  have  pluckt  all  downe, 
and  left  themselves  the  only  spectacle  of  their  times.  (P.  272.) 
[Edmund  Gayton,  Festivous  Notes  upon  Don  Quixot,  1654.] 


21 


306  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Richard  Whitlock,  1654. 

Doctor  Donnes  high  Praise  of  Ben  Johnsons  Works,  in  one 
expression  extolleih  them,  and  justly  enough  depresseth  our 
Admiration  of  the  Worlds  businesse. 

The  State,  and  mens  Affaires  are  the  best  Playes 
Next  yours:   Tis  nor  more,  nor  lesse  then  due  Praise. 

[ZfiOTOMIA,  or,  A  Morall  Anatomy  of  the  Living  by  the  Dead;  in  Observations, 
Essayes,  &c.,  1654,  p.  313.  As  pointed  out  on  page  37,  the 
lines  quoted  were  written  not  by  Donne  but  by  Sir  John  Roe.] 

William  Towers,  1654. 

To  the  Reader  of  my  Dearly  Loved,  Because  Truly  Pious 

Friend,  Mr.  T.  W.'s  Religious  Poems. 
Expect  no  fond  invokings:  we  confesse 
There  is  no  genius  besides  holinesse. 
Were  this  left  out,  had  he  another  theame 
Child's  straw  and  bubbles,  would  be  all  the  gemme.  .  .  . 
And  that  because  there  li's  in  neither  even 
What  was  in  Johnson's  self,  a  close  to  heaven. 

[Prefixed  to  Thomas  Washbourne's  Divine  Poems,  1654;  in  The  Poems 
of  Thomas  Washbourne,  ed.  by  A.  B.  Grosart,  1868,  p.  60.] 

Sir  John  Mennis  and  Dr.  James  Smith,  1655. 

Upon  a  Surfeit  caught  by  drinking  bad  Sack,  at  the  George 

Tavern  in  Southwark. 

.  .  .  Oh  would  I  might  turne  Poet  for  an  houre, 
To  Satyrize  with  a  vindictive  power 
Against  the  Drawer:  or  I  could  desire 
Old  Johnsons  head  had  scalded  in  this  fire; 
How  would  he  rage,  and  bring  Apollo  down 
To  scold  with  Bacchus,  and  depose  the  Clown, 
For  his  ill  government,  and  so  confute 
Our  Poet  Apes,  that  doe  so  much  impute 
Unto  the  grapes  inspirement! 

[Musarum  Delicice,  1655;    Hotten's  reprint,  of  the  second  edition   of 
1656,  p.  47.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  307 

Sir  John  Mennis  and  Dr.  James  Smith,  1655. 

B.  J.  answer  to  a  Thief  bidding  him  stand. 
Fly  villian  hence,  or  by  thy  coat  of  steel, 
Tie  make  thy  heart  my  brazen  bullet  feel, 
And  send  that  thrice  as  theevish  soule  of  thine 
To  hell,  to  wear  the  Devils  Valentine. 

Thief s  reply. 

Art  thou  great  Ben?  or  the  revived  ghost 
Of  famous  Shakespeare?   or  some  drunken  host? 
Who  being  tipsie  with  thy  muddy  beer, 
Dost  think  thy  rimes  shall  daunt  my  soule  with  fear? 
Nay  know  base  Slave,  that  I  am  one  of  those 
Can  take  a  purse  as  well  in  verse  as  prose; 
And  when  th'art  dead  write  this  upon  thy  herse, 
Here  lyes  a  Poet  that  was  rob'd  in  verse. 

[Musarum  Delicia,  1655;  Hotten's  reprint,  of  the  second  edition  of  1656, 
p.  95.  These  verses  appear  also  in  a  common-place  book  in  the 
Diocesan  Registry  at  Worcester;  see  the  entry  "Anonymous,  about 
1676."] 

John  Tomkins,  1655. 

To  the  Laur ell-worthy  Mr.  E.  E.  on  his  Excellent  Poems* 
Though  Wit  as  precious  every  Scene  doth  hold, 
As  Shakespeare's  Lease  [?  Leaf]  or  Johnson's  Massy  Gold,, 
Though  thou  with  swelling  Canvas  sail  beyond 
Hercules  Pillars,  Fletcher  and  Beaumont, 
And  though  Thou  art  (what  ever  Fooles  repute) 
A  Poet  in  all  Numbers  Absolute.  .  .  . 

[Prefixed  to  Edmund  Ellis's  Dia  Poemata,  1655.] 

Earl  of  Westmorland,  before  1656. 

To  Cleveland  before  ye  first  interview  at  Maneby. 
.  .  .  Whose  raptures  are  soe  elevate  by  art 
As  yl  each  science  in  them  hath  its  part, 
And  yet  in  Him  not  got  wth  anvile  pain, 
But  flowing  like  a  Torrent  after  rayne: 

[From  verses  addressed  to  John  Cleveland,  printed  in  A  Little  Ark, 
edited  by  G.  Thorn-Drury.  In  the  margin  opposite  the  third 
line  is  a  note  "Jhonson,"  indicating  that  the  allusion  is  to  Ben 
Jonson.] 


308  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Title-page,  1656. 

Wits  Academy,  or  Six  Penyworth  for  a  Penny,  being  Ben 
lohnson's  last  Arrow  to  all  Citizens  and  London  Dames,  shot 
from  his  famous  poetical  Quiver,  to  the  general  view  of  the 
curteous  Reader,  laid  open  by  way  of  Question  and  Answer, 
and  interlarded  with  sundry  choice  Conceits  upon  the  Times, 
very  pleasant  and  delightful.  Imprinted  at  London  by  R.  Wood. 
1656. 

Portrait,  1656. 

The  Academy  of  Pleasure  furnished  with  all  kinds  of  compli- 
mental  Letters,  Discourses,  and  Dialogues,  with  a  variety  of  new 
Songs,  Sonnets,  and  witty  Inventions.  .  .  London,  1656. 

[The  engraved  title-page  contains  portraits  of  Jonson,  Drayton,  Quarles, 
and  Wither.] 

Samuel  Holland,  1656. 

The  fire  of  Emulation  burnt  fiercely  in  every  angle  of  this 
Paradise;    the  Brittish  Bards  (forsooth)   were  also  ingaged  in 
quarrel  for  Superiority;    and  who  think  you,  threw  the  Apple 
of  Discord  amongst  them,  but  Ben  Johnson,  who  had  openly 
vaunted  himself  the  first  and  best  of  English  Poets;   this  Brave 
"was.resented  by  all  with  the  highest  indignation,  for  Chawcer  (by 
most  there)  was  esteemed  the  Father  of  English  Poesie,  whose 
•onery  imhappines  it  was,  that  he  was  made  for  the  time  he  lived 
in,  but  the  time  not  for  him:  Chapman  was  wondrously  exas 
perated  at  Bens  boldness,  and  scarce  refrained  to  tell  (his  own 
Tale  of  a  Tub)  that  his  Isabel  and  Mortimer  was  not  compleated 
by  a  Knighted  Poet,  whose  soul  remained  in  Flesh;    hereupon 
Spencer  (who  was  very  busie  in  finishing  his  Fairy  Queen)   thrust 
himself  amid  the  throng,  and  was  received  with  a  showt  by  Chap 
man,  Harrington,  Owen,  Constable,  Daniel,  and  Drayton,  so  that 
some  thought  the  matter  already  decided;    but  behold  Shake- 
spear  and  Fletcher  (bringing  with  them  a  strong  party)  appeared, 
as  if  they  meant  to  water  their  Bayes  with  blood,  rather  then 
part  with  their  proper  Right,  which  indeed  Apollo  and  the  Muses 
(had  with  much  justice)  conferr'd  upon  them,  so  that  now  there 
is  like  to  be  a  trouble  in  Triplex;  Skelton,  Gower  and  the  Monk  of 


TO  BEN  JONSON  309 

Bury  were  at  Daggers-drawing  for  Chawcer:  Spencer  waited  upon 
by  a  numerous  Troop  of  the  best  Book-men  in  the  World:  Shake- 
spear  and  Fletcher  surrounded  with  their  Life-Guard  viz.  Goffe, 
Massinger,  Decker,  Webster,  Sucklin,  Cartwright,  Carew,  &c. 

[Don  Zara  del  Fogo.  A  Mock  Romance,  1656,  Book  ii,  chap,  iv,  p.  101.] 

Anonymous,  1656. 

Know-well.  Upon  a  rainy  day,  or  when  you  have  nought  else 
to  do,  you  may  read  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Lord  Bacons  Natural 
History,  the  Holy  Warre,  the  Browns  Vulgar  Errors.  You  may 
find  too  some  stories  in  the  English  Eusebius,  and  the  Book  of 
Martyrs,  to  hold' discourse  with  the  Parson  on  a  Sunday  dinner. 

Mrs.  Love-wit.  Sometimes  to  your  wife  you  may  read  a  piece 
of  Shak-speare,  Suckling,  and  Ben.  Johnson  too,  if  you  can  under 
stand  him. 

[The  Hectors;  or  the  False  Challenge,  1656,  p.  50.] 

Edward  Leigh,  1656. 

Renowned    Scholars  amongst  us. 

.  .  .  For  Poetry,  Gower,  Chaucer,  Spencer,  Sir  Philip  Sidnie, 
Daniel  and  Draiton,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Ben.  Johnson. 

[A  Treatise  of  Religion  &  Learning,  and  of  Religions  and  Learned  Men, 
1656,  p.  91.1 

Anonymous,  1656. 

On  the  Time-poets. 

One  night  the  great  Apollo  pleas'd  with  Ben, 
Made  the  odde  number  of  the  Muses  ten; 
The  fluent  Fletcher,  Beaumont  rich  in  sense, 
In  Complement  and  Courtships  quintessence; 
Ingenious  Shakespeare,  Massinger  that  knowes 
The  strength  of  Plot  to  write  in  verse  and  prose: 
Whose  easie  Pegassus  will  amble  ore 
Some  threescore  miles  of  Fancy  in  an  houre; 
Cloud-grapling  Chapman,  whose  Aerial  minde 
Scares  at  Philosophy,  and  strikes  it  blinde; 
Daubourn  [Dabourn]  I  had  forgot,  and  let  it  be, 
He  dy'd  Amphibion  by  the  Ministry; 


310  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Silvester,  Bartas,  whose  translatique  part 

Twinn'd,  or  was  elder  to  our  Laureat: 

Divine  composing  Quarles,  whose  lines  aspire 

The  April  of  all  Poesy  in  May,     [Tho.  May] 

Who  makes  our  English  speak  Pharsalia; 

Sands  metamorphos'd  so  into  another     [Sandys] 

We  know  not  Sands  and  Ovid  from  each  other; 

He  that  so  well  on  Scotus  play'd  the  Man, 

The  famous  Diggs,  or  Leonard  Claudian; 

The  pithy  Daniel,  whose  salt  lines  afford 

A  weighty  sentence  in  each  little  word; 

Heroick  Draiton,  Withers,  smart  in  Rime, 

The  very  Poet-Beadles  of  the  Time: 

Panns  pastoral  Brown,  whose  infant  Muse  did  squeak 

At  eighteen  yeeres,  better  than  others  speak: 

Shirley  the  morning-child,  the  Muses  bred, 

And  sent  him  born  with  bayes  upon  his  head: 

Deep  in  a  dump  lohn  Ford  alone  was  got 

With  folded  armes  and  melancholly  hat; 

The  squibbing  Middleton,  and  Haywood  sage, 

Th'Apologetick  Atlas  of  the  Stage; 

Well  of  the  Golden  age  he  could  intreat, 

But  little  of  the  Mettall  he  could  get; 

Three-score  sweet  Babes  he  fashion 'd  from  the  lump, 

For  he  was  Christ'ned  in  Parnassus  pump; 

The  Muses  Gossip  to  Aurora's  bed, 

And  ever  since  that  time  his  face  was  red. 

Thus  through  the  horrour  of  infernall  deeps, 

With  equal  pace  each  of  them  softly  creeps, 

And  being  dark  they  had  Alectors  Torch,     [Alecto's] 

And  that  made  Churchyard  follow  from  his  Porch, 

Poor,  ragged,  torn,  &  tackt,  alack,  alack 

You'd  think  his  clothes  were  pinn'd  upon  his  back. 

The  whole  frame  hung  with  pins,  to  mend  which  clothes, 

In  mirth  they  sent  him  to  old  Father  Prose; 

Of  these  sad  Poets  this  way  ran  the  stream, 

And  Decker  followed  after  in  a  dream; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  311 

Rounce,  Robbie,  Hobble,  he  that  writ  so  big  [;] 

Basse  for  a  Ballad,  John  Shank  for  a  Jig:     [Wm.  Basse] 

Sent  by  Ben  Jonson,  as  some  Authors  say, 

Broom  went  before  and  kindly  swept  the  way: 

Old  Chaucer  welcomes  them  unto  the  Green, 

And  Spencer  brings  them  to  the  fairy  Queen; 

The  finger  they  present,  and  she  in  grace 

Transform'd  it  to  a  May-pole,  'bout  which  trace 

Her  skipping  servants,  that  do  nightly  sing, 

And  dance  about  the  same  a  Fayrie  Ring. 

[Choyce  Drollery:  Songs  and  Sonnets,  Being  a  Collection  of  Divers  Ex 
cellent  Pieces  of  Poetry,  of  Several  Eminent  Authors,  1656;  ed.  J. 
W.  Ebsworth,  1876,  pp.  5-7.] 

Anonymous,  1656. 

Upon  a  House  of  Office  over  a  River,  set  on  fire 

by  a  coale  of  Tobacco. 
Oh  fire,  fire,  fire,  where? 
The  usefull  house  o're  Water  cleare, 
The  most  convenient  in  a  shire, 
Which  no  body  can  deny. 

The  house  of  Office  that  old  true  blue 
Sir-reverence  so  many  knewf,] 
You  now  may  see  turn'd  fine  new. 
Which  no  body,  &c. 

And  to  our  great  astonishment 
Though  burnt,  yet  stands  to  represent 
Both  mourner  and  the  monument, 
Which  no  body,  &c. 

Ben  Johnson's  Vulcan  would  doe  well, 
Or  the  merry  Blades  who  knacks  did  tell, 
At  firing  London  Bridge  befell. 
Which  no  body,  &c. 

[Choyce  Drollery:  Songs  and  Sonnets,  Being  a  Collection  of  Divers  Ex 
cellent  Pieces  of  Poetry,  of  Several  Eminent  Authors,  1656;  ed.  J. 
W.  Ebsworth,  1876,  p.  33.] 


312  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Abraham  Cowley,  1656. 

.  .  .  From  this  which  had  hapned  to  my  self,  I  began  to 
reflect  upon  the  fortune  of  almost  all  Writers,  and  especially 
Poets,  whose  Works  (commonly  printed  after  their  deaths)  we 
finde  stuffed  out,  either  with  counterfeit  pieces,  like  false  money 
put  in  to  fill  up  the  Bag,  though  it  adde  nothing  to  the  sum; 
or  with  such,  which  though  of  their  own  Coyn,  they  would 
have  called  in  themselves,  for  the  baseness  of  the  Alloy:  whether 
this  proceed  from  the  indiscretion  of  their  Friends,  who  think  a 
vast  heap  of  Stones  or  Rubbish  a  better  Monument,  then  a  little 
Tomb  of  Marble,  or  by  the  unworthy  avarice  of  some  Stationers, 
who  are  content  to  diminish  the  value  of  the  Author,  so  they 
may  encrease  the  price  of  the  Book;  and  like  Vintners  with 
sophisticate  mixtures,  spoil  the  whole  vessel  of  wine,  to  make 
it  yield  more  profit.  This  has  been  the  case  with  Shakespear, 
Fletcher,  Johnson,  and  many  others;  part  of  whose  Poems  I 
should  take  the  boldness  to  prune  and  lop  away,  if  the  care  of 
replanting  them  in  print  did  belong  to  me;  neither  would  I 
make  any  scruple  to  cut  off  from  some  the  unnecessary  yong 
Suchars,  and  from  others  the  old  withered  Branches;  for  a  great 
Wit  is  no  more  tyed  to  live  in  a  Vast  Volume,  then  in  a  Gigantic 
Body;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  commonly  more  vigorous,  the  less 
space  it  animates. 

[Poems,  1656,  Preface.] 

Anonymous,  1656. 

An  Epitaph  on  some  bottles  of  Sack  and  Claret  laid  in  sand. 
Enter  and  see  this  tomb  (Sirs)  doe  not  fear 
No  spirits  but  of  Sack  will  fright  you  here: 
Weep  ore  this  tomb,  your  waters  here  may  have 
Wine  for  their  sweet  companion  in  this  grave. 
A  dozen  Shapespears  here  inter'd  doe  lye; 
Two  dozen  Johnsons  full  of  Poetry. 
Unhappy  Grapes  could  not  one  pressing  doe, 
But  now  at  last  you  must  be  buried  too. 

[Parnassus  Biceps,  1656,  p.  63.     The  verses  appear  also  in  Poems  by 
Robert  Wilde,  ed.  J.  W.  Hunt,  1870,  p.  58.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  313 

Philip  Kynder,  1656. 

The  Attick  Archaeologist  (full  of  reading,  paines  and  learning) 
hath  moulded  up  a  piece  of  Antiquity,  extracted  for  the  most 
part  from  the  Poets,  Lycophron,  Sophocles,  Aristophanes,  Eurip 
ides  and  the  Scholiasts,  and  obtrudes  upon  us  these  to  be  the 
general  customes  of  the  Athenians:  As  if  one  in  future  age 
should  make  all  England  in  ages  past  to  be  a  Bartholomew-Faire, 
because  Ben.  Johnson  hath  writ  it.  Or  that  the  condition  of 
all  our  English  women  may  be  drawn  out  of  Shackespeers  merry 
wifes  of  Windsor;  or  the  religion  of  the  low-Countrimen  from  Mr. 
Aminadab  in  the  Alchymist.  Or  from  Massingers  Mr.  Greedy, 
a  hungry  Justice  of  Peace  in  Nottingham-shire:  Or  Will-doe 
the  Parson  of  Gotham  the  Condition  of  all  the  County.  These 
may  be  applyed  to  Rosinus  and  Goodwins  Roman  Antiquities. 

[The  Surfeit,  1656,  p.  57;  reprinted  in  Philip  Bliss,  Reliquiae  Hearnianae, 
1869,  iii,  248.] 

George  Daniel,  before  1657. 

Upon  Ben  lonson's  Booke. 

Bee  not  Deceiv'd  (Dull  world)  Hee  is  not  Dead; 
Rumor  is  false;   open  His  Booke,  and  read. 
It  is  Himselfe;   there,  Everie  Scene  affords 
Words  above  Action ;   Matter  beyond  Words. 
If,  Readers,  what  I  say,  will  not  suffice 
T'  evince  your  follies,  I  dare  bid  you  twice 
What  yet  you  have  not  Done ;  open  and  Read ; 
Recant,  or  else  'tis  You,  not  Hee,  that's  Dead. 

[The  Poems  of  George  Daniel,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1878,  i,  66.     Daniel 
died  in  1657.] 

Henry  Belasye,  1657. 

Good  witts  in  England.  Some  thinke  that  this  thickness  of 
the  ayre  must  needs  breed  in  them  thick  witts,  but  it  is  not  soe, 
England  being  like  Athens  in  that,  of  whome  it  is  sayd,  Athenis 
pingue  ccelum,  sed  tenua  ingenia;  id  est  a  thick  ayre  but  thin 
witts,  for  what  nation  can  shew  more  refined  witts  than  those  of 
our  Ben,  our  Shakespeare,  our  Baumont,  our  Fletcher,  our  Dunn, 


314  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

our  Randol,  our  Crashew,  our  Cleveland,  our  Sidney,  our  Bacon, 
&c. 

[An  English  Traveler's  First  Curiosity,  or  The  Knowledge  of  his  owne 
Countrey;  Historical  MSS.  Commission's  Report  on  MSS.  in 
Various  Collections,  ii,  193.] 

Joshua  Poole,  1657. 

Preface. 

Some  in  Mr.  Johnson's  time,  vainly  attempted  to  write  an 
Heroick  poem,  in  imitation  of  the  Greeks  and  Latines,  by  the 
measures  of  Spondey  and  Dactyl,  without  any  regard  to  rhythm. 
Of  that  number  was  he,  who  sent  him  a  coppy  of  verses  beginning 
thus, 

Benjdmm  Immortal  Johnson  most  hightte  renowned. 

*         *         *         * 
The  Books  principally  made  use  of  in  the 

compiling  of  this  Work. 

Dubartas  works.  GomersaVs  Levite's  revenge. 

Ben.  Johnson.  Sr.  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

Brown's  Pastorals.  Shakes  pear. 

Randolph's  Poems.  Heywood  of  Angels. 

Drayton.  Carew's  Poems. 

May's  Lucan.  Daniel. 

Quarles  Divine  Poems.  Mays  Edward  j . 

Quarles  Divine  Fancies.  Quarles  Emblems. 

Sandy's  Ovid's  Metamorph.  Quarles  Ar gains  and  Par- 

Sandy's  Paraphrase  on  the  thenia. 

Canticles.     .  Sandys  of  Christ's  Passion. 

Herbert's  Poems.  Habbington's  Castara. 

Tottham's  Poems.  Sr.  John  Beamount's  Poem. 

Withers' s  Poems.  The  valiant  Bruce. 

Orlando  Furioso.  Burton's  Melancholy. 

Heywood' s  Dialogues  and  Chapman's  Hero  and  Leand. 

Drachms.  Blunt' s  Characters. 

Chapman's  Homer.  Massinger's  Secretary. 

Overbury's  Characters.  Lovelace's  Pastorals. 

Bahack's  Epistles.  Virgil  Translated. 

Cowley's  Blossoms.  Cowper's  Hill. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  315 

Horace  translated.  Elegies  on  Mr.  King. 

Ovid's  Works  translated.  Chaucer. 

Johnsonus  Virbius.  Adviso. 

Spencer's  Fairy  Queen.  Holy  day's  Persius. 

Comedies  and  Tragedies,  many. 
Quarles  Solomon's  Recantation.         Quarles  Eclogues. 
Howel's  Instructions  for  forreign  Travel. 
Howel's  vocal  Forrest,  and  England's  Tears. 
Fullers  Holy  State. 
Dunnfs  Poems. 
Malvezzi. 

Davenant's  Poems. 
Waller's  Poems. 
Milton's  Poems. 
Sandy's  Paraphrase  on  Job. 
Sandy's  Paraphrase  on  Psalms,  Ecclesiastes ;  &c. 
[The  English  Parnassus,  1657.] 

Richard  Lovelace,  before  1658. 

On  Sanazar's  Being  Honored  with  Six  Hundred  Duckets  by 
the  Clarissimi  of  Venice,  for  Composing  an 

Eligiack  Hexastick  of  the  City. 
Arise,  thou  rev'rend  shade,  great  Johnson,  rise! 
Break  through  thy  marble  natural  disguise! 
Behold  a  mist  of  insects,  whose  meer  breath 
Will  melt  thy  hallow'd  leaden  house  of  death. 
What  was  Crispinus,  that  you  should  defie 
The  age  for  him?     He  durst  not  look  so  high 
As  your  immortal  rod,  he  still  did  stand 
Honour'd,  and  held  his  forehead  to  thy  brand. 
These  scorpions,  with  which  we  have  to  do, 
Are  fiends,  not  only  small  but  deadly  too. 
Well  mightst  thou  rive  thy  quill  up  to  the  back, 
And  scrue  thy  lyre's  grave  chords,  untill  they  crack. 
For  though  once  hell  resented  musick,  these 
Divels  will  not,  but  are  in  worse  disease. 


316  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

How  would  thy  masc'line  spirit,  father  Ben, 
Sweat  to  behold  basely  deposed  men  .  .  . 

[Richard  Lovelace's  Poetical  Works,  ed.  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  1864,  p.  239. 
Cf.  the  entry  "Thomas  Coryat,  1611."  The  allusion  to  Crispinus 
is  to  Thomas  Dekker  and  the  Poetomachia.] 

Title-page,  1658. 

The  Weeding  of  the  Coven t-Garden,  or  the  Middlesex-Justice 
of  Peace.  A  Facetious  Comedy.  A  Posthume  of  Richard 
Brome,  An  Ingenious  Servant,  and  Imitator  of  his  Master,  that 
famously  Renowned  Poet  Ben.  Johnson.  .  .  .  London,  Printed 
for  Andrew  Crook,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  the  Green  Dragon  in 
St.  Pauls  Church-yard:  And  Henry  Broom  at  the  Gun  and 
Ivy-lane.  1658. 

Edward  Phillips,  1658. 

.  .  .  There  will  be  occasion  to  peruse  the  Works  of  our  ancient 
Poets,  as  Geffry  Chaucer,  the  greatest  in  his  time,  for  the  honour 
of  our  Nation;  as  also  some  of  our  more  Modern  Poets,  as 
Spencer,  Sidny,  Draiton,  Daniel,  with  our  reformers  of  the  Scene, 
Johnson,  Shakespear,  Beaumont,  and  Fletcher,  and  among  the 
renowned  Antiquaries,  Cambden,  Lambard,  Spelman,  Seldon,  and 
divers  others. 

[The  New  World  of  English  Words,  1658,  sig.  a3.] 

Edward  Phillips,  1658. 

Q.  Why  is  Ben  Johnson's  chair  at  Robert  Wilson's  Tipling- 
house  in  the  Strand? 

A.  To  signifie  that  Poets  in  these  hard  times,  though  they 
should  invoke  the  nine  Muses,  may  still  want  nine-pence  to 
purchase  a  pint  of  Canary. 

[Mysteries  of  Love  and  Eloquence,  or,  the  Arts  of  Wooing  and  Compli 
menting,  &c,,  1658,  p.  174.] 

S.  W.,  1658. 

To  his  ingenious  Friend,  the  Author,  on  his  incomparable  Poems. 
To  thee  compar'd,  our  English  Poets  all  stop, 
And  vail  their  Bonnets,  even  Shakespear 's  Falstop. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  317 

Chaucer  the  first  of  all  wasn't  worth  a  farthing, 
Lidgate,  and  Huntingdon,  with  Gaffer  Harding. 
Non-sense  the  Faery  Queen,  and  Michael  Drayton, 
Like  Babel's  Balm ;  or  Rhymes  of  Edward  Paiton, 
Waller,  and  Turlingham,  and  brave  George  Sandys, 
Beaumont,  and  Fletcher,  Donne,  Jeremy  Candish, 
Herbert,  and  Cleeveland,  and  all  the  train  noble 
Are  Saints-bells  unto  thee,  and  thou  great  Bow-bell. 
Ben  Johnson  'tis  true  shew'd  us  how  he  could  hit 
Each  humour  now;  and  then  be  out  of  it; 
Nor  could  he  alwayes  keep  his  Muse  a  gallop, 
With  curb,  or  whip,  but  sometimes  had  but  small  hope. 

[Prefixed  to  Samuel  Austin's  Naps  upon  Parnassus,  1658,  sig.  B  5.  In 
a  marginal  gloss  to  the  word  "Falstop"  the  writer  says:  "It 
should  have  been  Falslaff,  if  the  rhyme  had  permitted  it."] 

Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  1658. 

He  [Charles  Cotton]  is  ?n  able  Lad  indeed,  and  likes 
Arcadian  Pastorals,  and  (willing)  strikes 
A  Plaudite  to  th'  Epilogues  of  those 
Happy  Inventions  Shakesphere  did  compose. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  he  will  listen  to, 
And  allow  Johnsons  method  high  and  true. 
[Small  Poems  of  Divers  Sorts,  1658,  p.  27.] 

Title-page,  1659. 

The  Blind-Beggar  of  Bednal-Green,  with  The  merry  humor 
of  Tom  Strowd  the  Norfolk  Yeoman,  as  it  was  divers  times 
publickly  acted  by  the  Princes  Servants.  Written  by  John 
Day.  London,  Printed  for  R.  Pollard,  and  Tho.  Dring,  and 
are  to  be  sold  at  the  Ben  lohnsons  Head,  behind  the  Exchange, 
and  the  George  in  Fleetstreet,  near  Saint  Dunstans  Church. 
1659. 

Edmund  Gayton,  1659. 

My  Father  Ben,  discoursing  of  this  grunter, 
In  that  so  famous  play,  where  old  Sir  Punter, 
Being  turned  Orlando  for  the  losse  of's  dog, 
Did  lug  the  jeering  buffon  like  a  hog: 


318  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

There  in  that  celebrated  comedy 

(Whether  my  Father  Ben,  as  well  as  I, 

Met  with  Arabian  Comments)  the  smart  play 

Doth  patly  what  my  ancient  Authors  say. 

There's  wit  to  th'  height,  read  it,  and  try  our  dogma, 

Whether  from  both  the  places  we  a  Hog  may 

Not  all  alike  commend.  .  .   . 

[The  Art  of  Longevity,  or  a  Diceteticall  Institution,  1659,  chapter  xv; 
the  passage  cited  alludes  to  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  Act  v, 
where  Carlo  Buffone  delivers  an  elaborate  praise  of  pork.] 

Humphrey  Moseley,  1659. 

Nor  are  we  without  a  sufficient  President  in  Works  of  this 
nature,  and  relating  to  an  Author  who  confessedly  is  reputed  the 
Glory  of  the  English  Stage  (whereby  you'll  know  I  mean  Ben: 
Johnson)  and  in  a  play  also  of  somewhat  a  resembling  name, 
The  Sad  Shepherd,  extant  in  his  Third  Volume;  which  though  it 
wants  two  entire  acts,  was  nevertheless  judg'd  a  Piece  of  too 
much  worth  to  be  laid  aside,  by  the  Learned  and  Honorable  Sir 
Kenelme  Digby,  who  published  that  Volume. 

[Address  to  the  Reader,  before  Suckling's  The  Sad  One,  in  Last  Remains 
of  Sir  John  Suckling,  1659.] 

Anonymous,  1659. 

To  the  Readers. 

.  .  .  And  yet  there  are  a  sort  (one  would  wonder  there  should 
be)  who  think  they  lessen  this  Author's  worth  when  they  speak 
the  relation  he  had  to  Ben.  Johnson.  We  very  thankfully  em 
brace  the  Objection,  and  desire  they  would  name  any  other 
Master  that  could  better  teach  a  man  to  write  a  good  Play.  The 
materials  must  flow  from  all  parts  of  the  world;  but  the  Art  and 
Composition  come  onely  from  Books  and  such  living  Masters  as 
that  our  great  Laureat;  And  for  this  purpose  we  have  here  prefixt 
Ben  Johnson's  own  testimony  to  his  Servant  our  Author;  we 
grant  it  is  (according  to  Ben's  own  nature  and  custome)  magis 
terial  enough;  and  who  looks  for  other,  since  he  said  to  Shake- 
spear — /  shall  draw  envy  on  thy  name  (by  writing  in  his  praise) 


TO  BEN  JONSON  319 

and  threw  in  his  face — small  Latine  and  less  Greek;  but  also  told 
Selden  himself  (as  if  Ben's  conscience  checked  him  for  being  too 
good  natured  in  commending  others.) 


It  seems  (what  ere  we  think)  Ben  thought  it  diminution  for  no 
man  to  attend  upon  his  Muse.  And  were  not  already  the  An- 
tients  too  much  trod  on,  we  could  name  famous  wits  who  served 
far  meaner  Masters  than  Ben  Johnson.  For,  none  vers'd  in 
Letters  but  know  the  wise  JE*sop  was  born  and  bred  a  wretched 
slave;  Lucian  a  Stonecutter;  Virgil  himself  begotten  by  a 
Basketmaker,  born  in  a  ditch,  and  then  preferred  to  an  under 
Groom  in  the  stable;  nay,  (to  instance  in  our  Authors  own 
order)  Ncevius  the  Comedian  a  Captains  mans  man;  Plautus 
servant  to  a  poor  Baker,  Terence  a  slave  as  well  as  jEsop;  and 
(which  for  our  purpose  is  most  of  all)  our  Authors  own  Master 
handled  the  Trowel  before  he  grew  acquainted  with  Seianus  or 
Cataline.  But  enough  of  this,  lest  pleading  for  the  Author, 
make  him  seem  to  want  an  Apology. 

[Prefixed  to  Five  New  Playes,  by  Richard  Brome,  1659.] 

William  Richards,  1659. 
.  .  .  His  Waste  did  shun 
All  Smiles,  b'ing  swoln  beyond  Ben-John-Sons  Tun. 

[The  Christmas  Ordinary,  acted  at  Oxford  1659,  printed  1682.  See  J. 
Q.  Adams,  "  The  Authorship  of  Two  Seventeenth  Century  Plays," 
Modern  Language  Notes,  xxii,  135.] 

Thomas  Pecke,  1659. 

To  the  egregious  poet,  Sir  Will.  Davenant. 
That  Ben,  whose  Head,  deserv'd  the  Roscian  Bayes; 
Was  the  first  gave  the  Name  of  Works,  to  Playes: 
You,  his  Corrival,  in  this  Waspish  Age; 
Are  more  than  Atlas  to  the  fainting  Stage. 
Your  Bonus  Genius,  you  this  way  display : 
And  to  delight  us,  is  your  Opera. 
[Parnassi  Puerperium,  1659,  p.  180.] 


320 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 


Sir  Henry  Herbert,  about  1660. 

Names  of  the  plays  acted  by  the  Red  Bull  actors. 


The  Humorous  Lieutenant. 

Beggars  Bushe. 

Tamer  Tamed. 

The  Traytor. 

Loves  Cruelty. 

Wit  without  Money. 

Maydes  Tragedy. 

Philaster. 

Rollo  Duke  of  Normandy. 

Claricilla. 


Elder  Brother. 

The  Silent  Woman. 

The  Weddinge. 

Henry  the  Fourthe. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Kinge  and  no  Kinge. 

Othello. 

Dumboys. 

The  Unfortunate  Lovers. 

The  Widow. 


[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  82.] 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1660. 

November   '60.     This  is  a  List  of  plays  acted  by  the  Kings 
Companie  at  the  Red  Bull  and  the  new  house  in  Gibbon's  Tennis 
Court  near  Clare  Market. 
Monday  the  5.  Nouember.  '60. 
Tusday  the  6.  No. 
Wensday  the  7.  No. 


Thursday  the  8.  No. 

Friday  the  9.  No. 
Saterday  the  10.  No. 
Monday  the  12.  No. 
Tusday  the  13.  No. 
Wensday  the  14.  No. 
Thursday  the  15.  No. 
Friday  the  16.  No. 
Saterday  the  17.  No. 
monday  the  19.  No. 
Tusday  the  20.  No. 
Wensday  the  21.  No. 
Thursday  the  22.  No. 
Friday  the  23.  No. 


Wit  without  money. 
The  Traitor. 
The  Beggers  Bushe. 
Henry  the  fourthe.  First  Play. 
Acted  at  the  new  Theatre. 
The  merry  wives  of  Windsor. 
The  sylent  Woman. 
[Loues  Mistery.] 
Loue  lies  a  Bleedinge. 

Loues  Cruelty. 

The  widowe. 

The  mayds  Tragedy. 

The  Unfortunate  Louers. 

The  Beggars  Bushe. 

The  Scorn  full  Lady. 

The  Trayter. 

The  Elder  Brother. 


[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  116.] 


TO   BEN  JONSON  321 

Samuel  Pepys,  1660. 

June  6th.  .  .  .  My  letters  tell  me  ...  that  the  two  Dukes 
do  haunt  the  Park  much,  and  that  they  were  at  a  play,  Madame 
Epicene,  the  other  day. 

*         *         *         * 

December  4th.  .  .  .  After  dinner  Sir  Tho.  [Crew]  and  my  Lady 
to  the  Playhouse  to  see  The  Silent  Woman. 
[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Edward  Gower,  1660. 

Letter  to  Sir  Richard  Leveson,  November  20,  1660. 
.  .  .  Yesternight  the  King,  Queen,  Princes,  &.  supped  at  the 
Duke  d'Albemarle's,  where  they  had  the  Silent  Woman  acted 
in  the  Cock-pit,  where  on  Sunday  he  had  a  sermon. 

[MSS.  of  the  Duke  of  Sutherland,  vol.  viii;  in  the  Fifth  Report  of  the 
Royal  Commission  on  Historical  Manuscripts,  1876,  p.  200.  Cf. 
Pepys's  Diary,  November  20,  1660.] 

Edward  Barwick,  1660. 

To  my  ingenious  Friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Forde, 

on  His  Loves  Labyrinth. 

.  .  .  Proceed  then  Worthy  Friend,  and  may  thy  Fame, 
Like  Laureat  Johnson,  ever  speak  thy  Name. 
[Prefixed  to  Thomas  Forde's  Love's  Labyrinth,  1660.] 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  1660. 

Of  Men  of  Note  in  his  [Charles  I]  Time. 

Poetry  was  never  more  Resplendent,  "nor  never  more  Graced ; 
wherein  Johnson,  Silvester,  Shakspere,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Shirley, 
Broom,  Massinger,  Cartwrite,  Randolph,  Cleaveland,  Quarles, 
Carew,  Davenant,  and  Sucklin,  not  only  far  excelled  their  own 
Countrymen,  but  the  whole  World  besides. 

[-4  Chronicle  of  the  Kings  of  England,  Whereunto  is  now  added  in  this 
Third  Edition  the  reign  of  King  Charles  I,  1660,  p.  503.  See  also 
the  entry  "Sir  Richard  Baker,  1665."] 


322  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1660. 

An  Elegie. 

I  now  conceive  the  scope  of  their  designe, 
Which  is  with  one  consent  to  bring  and  burn 
Contributary  incense  on  his  urn, 
Where  each  mans  love  and  fancy  shall  be  try'd, 
As  when  great  Johnson  or  brave  Shakesp  ear  dyed . 

[Elegies  Sacred  to  the  Memory  of  R.  Lovelace,  Esq.,  1660;  in  Lucasta. 
The  Poems  of  Richard  Lovelace,  ed.  W.  Carew  Hazlitt,  1864,  p. 
287.1 

Sir  Henry  Herbert,  1661. 

[Plays  Acted  by  the  King's  Company  in  Gibbon's 
Tennis  Court,  1661.] 

*  *         *         * 

Uittoria  Corumbana.       n.  [Decemb.] 
The  Cuntry  Captaine.     13.  [Decemb.] 
The  Alchymist.  16.  Decemb. 

Bartholomew  Faire.         18.  Decemb. 
The  Spanishe  Curate.      20.  Decemb. 
The  Tamer  Tamed.          23.  De. 
Aglaura.  28.  De. 

Bussy  Dambois  30.  De. 

[The  Dramatic  Records  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert,  ed.  J.  Q.  Adams,  p.  117.] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1661. 

January  7th.  .  .  .  Tom  and  I  and  my  wife  to  the  Theatre, 
and  there  saw  The  Silent  Woman.  The  first  time  that  ever  I 
did  see  it,  and  it  is  an  excellent  play.  Among  other  things  here, 
Kinaston,  the  boy,  had  the  good  turn  to  appear  in  three  shapes: 
first,  as  a  poor  woman  in  ordinary  clothes,  to  please  Morose; 
then  in  fine  clothes,  as  a  gallant,  and  in  them  was  clearly  the 
prettiest  woman  in  the  whole  house,  and  lastly,  as  a  man;  and 
then  likewise  did  appear  the  handsomest  man  in  the  house. 

*  *         *         * 

January  8th.  .  .  .  After  dinner  I  took  my  Lord  Hinchinbroke 
and  Mr.  Sidney  to  the  Theatre,  and  shewed  them  The  Widow, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  323 

an  indifferent  good  play,  but  wronged  by  the  women  being  to 
seek  in  their  parts. 

*  *         *         * 

.May  25th.  .  .  .  Then  to  the  Theatre,  where  I  saw  a 
piece  of  The  Silent  Woman,  which  pleased  me. 

*  *         *         * 

June  8th.  .  .  .  Then  I  went  to  the  Theatre  and  there  saw 
Bartholomew  Faire,  the  first  time  it  was  acted  now-a-days.  It. 
is  a  most  admirable  play  and  well  acted,  but  too  much  prophane 
and  abusive. 

*  *         *         * 

June  22nd.  .  .  .  Then  to  the  Theatre,  The  Alchymist,  which 
is  a  most  incomparable  play. 

*  *         *         * 

June  2jth.  ...  At  noon  home,  and  then  with  my  Lady 
Batten,  Mrs.  Rebecca  Allen,  Mrs.  Thompson,  &c.,  two  coaches 
of  us,  we  went  and  saw  Bartholomew  Fayre  acted  very  well. 

*  *         *         * 

August  1 4th.  .  .  .  After  dinner,  Captain  Ferrers  and  I  to  the 
Theatre,  and  there  saw  The  Alchymist. 

*  #         *         * 

September  7th.  .  .  .  My  wife  and  I  took  them  to  the  Theatre, 
where  we  seated  ourselves  close  by  the  King,  and  Duke  of  York, 
and  Madame  Palmer,  which  was  great  content;  and,  indeed,  I 
can  never  enough  admire  her  beauty.  .  And  here  was  Bartholomew 
Fayre,  with  the  puppet-show,  acted  to-day,  which  had  not  been 
these  forty  years  (it  being  so  satyricall  against  Puritanism,  they 
durst  not  till  now,  which  is  strange  they  should  already  dare  to 
do  it,  and  the  King  do  countenance  it),  but  I  do  never  a  whit 
like  it  the  better  for  the  puppets,  but  rather  the  worse.  Thence 
home  with  the  ladies,  it  being  by  reason  of  our  staying  a  great 
while  for  the  King's  coming,  and  the  length  of  the  play,  near 
nine  o'clock  before  it  was  done. 

*  *         *         * 

November  I2th.  .  .  .  My  wife  and  I  to  Bartholomew  Fayre, 
with  puppets  which  I  had  seen  once  before,  and  the  play  without 


324  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

puppets  often,  but  though  I  love  the  play  as  much  as  ever  I  did, 
yet  I  do  not  like  the  puppets  at  all,  but  think  it  to  be  a  lessening 
to  it. 

[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Anonymous,  1661. 

To  the  Reader. 

.  .  .  When  thou  viewest  the  Title,  and  readest  the  sign  of 
Ben  Johnson's  head ,  on  the  back-side  of  the  Exchange,  and  the 
Angel  in  Cornhil,  where  they  are  sold,  inquire  who  could  better 
furnish  the  with  such  sparkling  copies  of  Wit  than  those.  ... 

[Prefixed  to  Wit  and  Drollery,  by  Sir  John  Mennes,  James  Smith,  Sir 
William  Davenant,  and  John  Donne,  1661.  There  is  a  passing 
allusion  to  Jonson  on  sig.  B4.] 

John  Ward,  1661-63. 

Shakespeare,  Drayton,  and  Ben  Jonson,  had  a  merie  meeting, 
and  itt  seems  drank  too  hard,  for  Shakespear  died  of  a  feavour 
there  contracted. 

[Diary  of  the  Rev.  John  Ward,  A.  M.,  Vicar  of  Stratford-upon-Avon, 
1839,  p.  183.] 

Francis  Kirkman,  1662. 

The  Bookseller  to  the  Reader. 
And  yet  our  modesty  will  make  us  vail 
To  worthy  Sidney,  nor  can  we  bear  sail 
Against  these  fam'd  Dramaticks,  one  past  age 
Was  blest  with  Johnson,  who  so  grac't  the  stage, 
The  thrice  renowned  Shakespear,  and  the  rare 
Ingenuous  Fletcher.     These  past  envy  are 
Much  more  past  imitation  only  we 
Would  second  be  o'th'first,  last  of  the  three. 
[Prefixed  to  The  English  Lovers,  by  I.  D.,  Gent.,  1662.] 

Margaret  Cavendish,  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  1662. 

General  Prologue  to  all  my  Playes. 
As  for  Ben.  Johnsons  brain,  it  was  so  strong, 
He  could  conceive,  or  judge,  what's  right,  what's  wrong: 


TO  BEN  JONSON  325 

His  Language  plain,  significant,  and  free, 
And  in  the  English  Tongue,  the  Masterie: 
Yet  Gentle  Shakespear  had  a  fluent  Wit, 
Although  less  Learning,  yet  full  well  he  writ; 
For  all  his  Playes  were  writ  by  Natures  light, 
Which  gives  his  Readers,  and  Spectators  sight. 
But  Noble  Readers,  do  not  think  my  Playes 
Are  such  as  have  been  writ  in  former  daies; 
As  Johnson,  Shakespear,  Beaumont,  Fletcher  writ; 
Mine  want  their  Learning,  Reading,  Language,  Wit. 
The  Latin  phrases  I  could  never  tell, 
But  Johnson  could,  which  made  him  write  so  well. 
[Prefixed  to  her  Playes,  1662.] 

Rowland  Watkyns,  1662. 

The  Poet's  Condition. 
A  poet,  and  rich?  that  seems  to  be 
A  paradox  most  strange  to  me. 
A  poet,  and  poor?  that  maxim's  true, 
If  we  observe  the  canting  crue. 
What  lands  had  Randolph,  or  great  Ben> 
That  plow'd  much  paper  with  his  pen? 
.    [Poems  without  Fictions,  1662.] 

John  Wilson,  1662. 

We've  no  sententious  sir,  no  grave  Sir  Poll, 
No  little  pug  nor  devil, — bless  us  all! 

[Prologue  to  The  Cheats,  written  in  1662,  printed  in  1664;  the  allusion 
seems  to  be  to  Jonson's  The  Devil  is  an  Ass.  The  characters 
Bilboe  and  Titerue  Tu  seem  to  be  copied  after  Subtle  and  Face 
in  Jonson's  Alchemist.  Cf.  the  entry  "John  Wilson,  1664."] 

John  Downes,  1663. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  the  principal  old  stock-plays  acted  by 
His  Majesty's  Company  of  Comedians  in  Drury-Lane,  beginning 
April  8,  1663,  the  date  of  the  opening  of  the  New  Theatre  in 
Drury-Lane:— 

The  Humorous  Lieutenant. 
Rule  a  Wife,  and  have  a  Wife. 


326 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 


The  Fox. 

The  Silent  Woman. 
The  Alchemist. 
The  Maids  Tragedy. 
King  and  no  King. 
Rollo,  Duke  of  Normandy. 
The  Scornful  Lady. 
The  Elder  Brother. 
The  Moor  of  Venice. 
King  Henry  the  Fourth. 
The  Maiden  Queen. 
Mock  Astrologer. 
Julius  Caesar. 

Note,  That  these  being  their  Principal  Old  Stock  Plays;  yet 
in  this  Interval  from  the  Day  they  begun,  there  were  divers 
others  Acted. 

Cataline's  Conspiracy. 

The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

The  Opportunity. 

The  Example. 

The  Jovial  Crew. 

Philaster. 

The  Cardinal. 

Bartholomew-  Fair. 

The  Chances. 

The  Widow. 
.As  The  Devil's  an  Ass. 

Argulus  and  Parthenia. 

Every  Man  in  his  Humour. 

Every  Man  out  of  Humour. 

The  Carnival. 

Sejanus. 

The  Merry  Devil  of  Edmunton. 

Vittoria  Corumbona. 

The  Beggars  Bush. 

The  Traytor. 

Titus  Andronicus. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  327 

These  being  Old  Plays,  were  Acted  but  now  and  then;    yet 
being  well  Perform'd,  were  very  Satisfactory  to  the  Town. 
[Roscius  Anglicanus,  1708,  pp.  3-9.] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1663. 

July  22nd.  ...  So  down  to  Deptford,  reading  Ben  Jonson's 
Devil  is  an  asse. 


December  loth.  To  St.  Paul's  Church  Yard,  to  my  bookseller's. 
...  I  could  not  tell  whether  to  lay  out  my  money  for  books  of 
pleasure,  as  plays,  which  my  nature  was  most  earnest  in;  but 
at  last,  after  seeing  Chaucer,  Dugdale's  History  of  Pauls,  Stow's 
London,  Gesner,  History  of  Trent,  besides  Shakespeare,  Jonson, 
and  Beaumont's  plays,  I  at  last  chose  Dr.  Fuller's  Worthys,  the 
Cabbala  or  Collections  of  Letters  of  State,  and  a  little  book, 
Delices  de  Hollande,  with  another  little  book  or  two,  all  of  good 
use  or  serious  pleasure;  and  Hudibras,  both  parts,  the  book 
now  in  greatest  fashion  for  drollery,  though  I  cannot,  I  confess, 
see  enough  where  the  wit  lies. 

[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Anonymous,  1663. 

So,  as  well  the  best  men  as  their  best  actions,  are  still  waited 
on  by  (those  brats  of  Ignorance  or  Malice)  detraction  and 
calumnies.  For  the  confirming  the  truth  whereof,  I  shall  need 
no  further  to  search  the  Rolls  of  Antiquity,  than  to  look  back 
upon  those  times,  in  which  Johnson,  (that  Son  of  Wit)  did  by 
the  clear  and  piercing  raies  of  his  wit  and  judgment,  dissipate 
all  mists  of  Ignorance,  and  Reform  the  Errors  of  the  Stage; 
and  yet,  though  he  shin'd  so  bright  in  Wit's  Horizon,  were  there 
not  wanting  some  barren  clods  of  dull  Earth,  who,  being  un- 
capable  of  receiving  the  least  ray  of  wit  themselves  from  his 
quickening  influence,  (as  Niobe  preferr'd  her  own  earthly  brood 
before  Apollo  and  Diana  the  celestial  Twins  of  Latona]  dar'd 
prefer  the  spurious  Issues  of  their  own  Brain  before  this  great 
Apollo,  and  endeavour  to  eclipse  the  glory  of  his  heavenly 
endowments;  but  with  how  bad  successe  they  attempted  it,  his 


328  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

incomparable  Play  (the  Poetaster}  made  in  derision  of  them, 
sufficiently  declares.  And  although  like  a  petty  inconsiderable 
Star,  I  could  not  expect  to  be  taken  notice  of  in  the  presence  of 
that  glorious  Sun,  nor  dare  to  entertain  such  high  conceptions 
of  my  self,  as  to  hope  to  be  named  with  him;  yet,  I'le  take  the 
confidence  to  declare  to  the  World,  that  though  my  weak  abilities 
can  hold  no  proportion  with  those  rich  gifts  of  Nature  of  which 
he  was  Master,  yet  I  can  glory  I  resemble  him  in  this,  that  I  am 
assaulted  with  the  Ignorance  of  partial  and  prejudicial  Readers, 
who  have  bespattered  with  the  blackest  Obloquy  they  can,  a 
Piece  lately  publisht  by  me. 

[The  Dedication  prefixed  to  The  Unfortunate  Usurper,  1663.] 

R.  Stapylton,  1663. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  have  writ  their  last  Scenes: 
No  Johnson's  Art,  no  Shakespear's  wit  in  Nature, 
For  men  are  shrunk  in  Brain  as  well  as  Stature. 

[Prologue  to  The  Slighted  Maid,  1663.] 

W.  K.,  1663. 

On  the  Composure  of  Love  a  la  Mode. 
All  just  Wits  agree 
In  commendation  of  this  Comedie. 
And  for  its  worth,  I  thus  far  dare  ingage, 
Since  the  revival  of  the  English  Stage; 
No  modern  Muse  hath  yet  produced  such: 
Were  Johnson  living,  he  would  swear  as  much. 
[Prefixed  to  Love  a  la  Mode,  1663.] 

J.  Kelyne,  1663. 

On  the  Incomparable  Love  a  la  Mode. 
Were  Shakespeare,  Fletcher,  or  renowned  Ben 
Alive,  they'd  yield  to  this  more  happie  pen 
Those  lawrells  that  bedeckt  their  brows ;  and  say, 
Love  a  la  mode's  the  best-accomplish'd  Play. 
[Prefixed  to  Love  a  la  Mode,  1663.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  329 

Abraham  Cowley,  1663. 

Aur[elia\.  Bless  us!  what  humming  and  hawing  will  be  i'  this 
house!  what  preaching,  and  houling,  and  fasting,  and  eating 
among  the  Saints!  Their  first  pious  work  will  be  to  banish 
Fletcher  and  Ben  Johnson  out  o'  the  Parlour,  and  bring  in  their 
rooms  Martin  Mar-Prelate,  and  Posies  of  Holy  Hony-suckles, 
and  a  Saws-box  for  a  Wounded  Conscience,  and  a  Bundle  of 
Grapes  from  Canaan. 

[Cutter  of  Coleman  Street,  1663;  ed.  A.  R.  Waller,  1906,  ii,  296.] 

Robert  Boyle,  1663. 

It  is  not  always  so  despicable  a  piece  of  service  as  may  be 
imagined,  to  endear,  by  particular  considerations,  an  excellent 
book  ...  to  a  person  capable  of  discovering  and  making  use 
of  the  rare  things  it  contains.  To  which  purpose  I  might  offer 
you  divers  more  serious  instances,  but  shall  only  at  present  (a 
little  to  divert  you)  take  ihis  occasion  to  tell  you,  that  Ben. 
Johnson,  passionately  complaining  to  a  learned  acquaintance  of 
mine,  that  a  man  of  the  long  robe,  whom  his  wit  had  raised  to 
great  dignities  and  power,  had  refused  to  grant  him  some  very 
valuable  thing  he  had  begged  of  him,  concluded  with  saying, 
with  an  upbraiding  tone  and  gesture  to  my  friend :  Why,  the 
ungrateful  wretch  knows  very  well,  that  before  he  come  to  preferment, 
I  was  the  man  that  made  him  relish  Horace. 

[Some  Considerations  Touching  the  Style  of  the  'Holy  Scriptures,  1663, 
the  Epistle  Dedicatory;  in  Robert  Boyle's  Works,  ed.  Sharrock, 
1772,  ii,  249.] 

John  Dryden,  1663. 

Our  poet  yet  protection  hopes  from  you, 
But  bribes  you  not  with  anything  that's  new; 
Nature  is  old,  which  poets  imitate, 
And,  for  wit,  those,  that  boast  their  own  estate, 
Forget  Fletcher  and  Ben  before  them  went, 
Their  elder  brothers,  and  that  vastly  spent; 
So  much,  'twill  hardly  be  repair'd  again, 
Not,  though  supplied  with  all  the  wealth  of  Spain. 

[Prologue  to  The  Wild  Gallant  as  it  was  first  acted.  According  to 
Malone,  it  was  first  acted  in  February,  1662-63.] 


330  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Samuel  Pepys,  1664. 

June  ist.  .  .  .  Thence  to  W.  Joyce's,  where  by  appointment 
I  met  my  wife  (but  neither  of  them  at  home),  and  she  and  I  to 
the  King's  house,  and  saw  The  Silent  Woman;  but  methought 
not  so  well  done  or  so  good  a  play  as  I  formerly  thought  it  to 
be,  or  else  I  am  now-a-days  out  of  humour.  Before  the  play 
was  done,  it  fell  such  a  storm  of  hayle,  that  we  in  the  middle  of 
the  pit  were  fain  to  rise;  and  all  the  house  in  a  disorder,  and  so 
my  wife  and  I  out  and  got  into  a  little  alehouse,  and  staid  there 
an  hour  after  the  play  was  done  before  we  could  get  a  coach, 
which  at  last  we  did. 

*  *         *         * 

August  2nd.  .  .  .  Thence  to  the  King's  play-house,  and  there 
saw  Bartholomew  Fayre,  which  do  still  please  me;  and  is,  as  it 
is  acted,  the  best  comedy  in  the  world,  I  believe. 

*  *         *         * 

August  4th.  .  .  .  Here  we  hear  that  Clun,  one  of  their  best 
actors,  was,  the  last  night,  going  out  of  towne  (after  he  had 
acted  the  Alchymist,  wherein  was  one  of  his  best  parts  that  he 
acts)  to  his  countryhouse,  set  upon  and  murdered;  one  of  the 
rogues  taken,  an  Irish  fellow. 

*  *         *         * 

December  i8th  (Lord's  day).  .  .  .  To  church,  where,  God  for 
give  me!  I  spent  most  of  my  time  in  looking  [on]  my  new  Morena 
at  the  other  side  of  the  church,  an  acquaintance  of  Pegg  Pen's. 
So  home  to  dinner,  and  then  to  my  chamber  to  read  Ben  Johnson's 
Cataline,  a  very  excellent  piece. 

[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Robert  Waring,  1664. 

Amoris  Effigies  .  .  .  praefigitur  ejusdem  Antoris  Carmen 
Lapidarium  Memorise  Vatum  Principis,  Ben  Jonsoni  sacratum. 
London,  1664. 

[This  is  the  third  edition;  the  poem  on  Jonson  appears  in  all  the  later 
editions,  and  in  the  English  translation  of  1680.  Waring  contrib 
uted  the  poem  to  Jonsonus  Virbius,  1638.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  331 

Margaret  Cavendish,  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  1664. 
I  never  heard  any  man  read  well  but  my  husband,  and  I  have 
heard  him  say,   he  never  heard  any  man  read  well  but  Ben 
Jonson,  and  yet  he  hath  heard  many  in  his  time. 
[Philosophical  Letters,  1664,  p.  362.] 

William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  1664. 
To  the  Lady  Marchioness  of  Newcastle,  On  Her  Book  of  Poems. 
I  saw  your  Poems,  and  then  Wish'd  them  mine, 
Reading  the  Richer  Dressings  of  each  line ; 
Your  New-born,  Sublime  Fancies,  and  such  store, 
May  make  our  Poets  blush,  and  Write  no  more: 
Nay,  Spencers  Ghost  will  haunt  you  in  the  Night, 
And  Johnson  rise,  full  fraught  with  Venom's  Spight; 
Fletcher,  and  Beaumont,  troubl'd  in  their  Graves, 
Look  out  some  Deeper,  and  forgotten  Caves; 
And  Gentle  Shakespear  weeping,  since  he  must 
At  best,  be  Buried,  now,  in  Chaucer s  Dust: 
Thus  dark  Oblivion  covers  their  each  Name, 
Since  you  have  Robb'd  them  of  their  Glorious  Fame. 
[Prefixed  to  Poems  and  Phancies,  by  the  Lady  Marchioness  of  New 
castle,  1664.     The  verses  do  not  appear  in  the  first  edition  of  1653.] 

John  Wilson,  1664. 

The  Author  to  the  Reader. 

To  be  short,  .  .  .  there  is  hardly  anything  left  to  write  upon 
but  what  either  the  ancients  or  moderns  have  some  way  or  other 
touch 'd  on.  Did  not  Apuleius  take  the  rise  of  his  Golden  Ass 
from  Lucian's  Lucius?  And  Erasmus  his  Alcumistica  from 
Chaucer's  Canon's  Yeoman's  Tale?  And  Ben  Johnson  his  more 
happy  Alchymist  from  both? 

[The  Cheats,  1664.     Cf.  the  entry  "John  Wilson,  1662."] 

John  Wilson,  1664. 

The  Projectors:  A  Comedy.  By  John  Wilson.  .  .  .  Lond. 
Printed  for  John  Play  fere  at  the  White  Lyon,  in  the  Upper 
Walk  of  the  New  Exchange;  and  William  Crook,  at  the  Three 
Bibles,  on  Fleet-Bridge.  1665. 

[The  title,  and  not  a  little  of  the  plot,  was  suggested  by  Jonson's  The 
Devil  is  an  Ass.] 


332  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Richard  Flecknoe,  1664. 

In  this  time  were  Poets  and  Actors  in  their  greatest  flourish, 
Johnson,  Shakespear,  with  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  their  Poets, 
and  Field  and  Burbidge  their  Actors. 

For  Playes,  Shakespear  was  one  of  the  first,  who  inverted  the 
Dramatick  Stile,  from  dull  History  to  quick  Comedy,  upon 
whom  Johnson  refin'd;  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  first  writ  in 
the  Heroick  way,  upon  whom  Suckling  and  others  endeavoured 
to  refine  agen;  one  saying  wittily  of  his  Aglaura,  that  'twas 
full  of  fine  flowers,  but  they  seem'd  rather  stuck,  then  growing 
there;  as  another  of  Shakespear' s  writings,  that  'twas  a  fine 
Garden,  but  it  wanted  weeding. 

There  are  few  of  our  English  Playes  (excepting  onely  some 
few  of  Johnsons)  without  some  faults  or  other. 
*         *         *         * 

To  compare  our  English  Dramatick  Poets  together  (without 
taxing  them)  Shakespear  excelled  in  a  natural  Vein,  Fletcher  in 
Wit,  and  Johnson  in  Gravity  and  ponderousness  of  Style;  whose 
onely  fault  was,  he  was  too  elaborate;  and  had  he  mixt  less 
erudition  with  his  Playes,  they  had  been  more  pleasant  and 
delightful  then  they  are.  Comparing  him  with  Shakespear,  you 
shall  see  the  difference  betwixt  Nature  and  Art;  and  with 
Fletcher,  the  difference  betwixt  Wit  and  Judgement:  Wit  being 
an  exuberant  thing,  like  Nilus,  never  more  commendable  then 
when  it  overflowes;  but  Judgement  a  stayed  and  reposed  thing, 
always  containing  it  self  within  its  bounds  and  limits. 

[A  Discourse  of  the  English  Stage,  prefixed  to  Love's  Kingdom,  a  Pastoral 
Tragi-comedy,  1664,  sig.  G^.] 

Sir  George  Etheredge,  1664. 

For  such  our  fortune  is,  this  barren  age, 
That  faction  now,  not  wit,  supports  the  stage; 
Wit  has,  like  painting,  had  her  happy  flights, 
And  in  peculiar  ages  reach'd  her  heights, 
Though  now  declined:  yet,  could  some  able  pen 
Match  Fletcher's  nature,  or  the  art  of  Ben, 
The  old  and  graver  sort  would  scare  allow 
Those  plays  were  good,  because  we  writ  them  now. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  333 

Our  author  therefore  begs  you  would  forget, 
Most  reverend  judges,  the  records  of  wit; 
And  only  think  upon  the  modern  way 
Of  writing,  whilst  you're  censuring  his  play. 
[The  Prologue  to  The  Comical  Revenge,  1664.]' 

John  Tatham,  1664. 

Speech  to  the  King. 

Pardon,  not  praise,  great  monarch,  we  implore, 
For  showing  you  no  better  sights,  nor  more: 
We  hope  your  majesty  will  not  suppose 
You're  with  your  Johnsons  or  your  Inigoes; 
And  though  you  make  a  court,  you're  in  the  city 
Whose  vein  is  to  be  humble,  though  not  witty. 

[London' s  Triumphs,  1664;  in  Lord  Mayors1  Pageants,  Percy  Society 
Publications,  x,  72.  The  speech  is  copied  verbatim  by  Thomas 
Jordan  in  his  London's  Resurrection,  1671.] 

Library  Catalogue,  before  1665. 

Anglici. 

Chaucers  workes.  Fol. 

Spensers  fairy  Queen  Fol. 

Johnsons  2  vol:  Fol. 

Beumont  &  Fletcher.  Fol. 

Shakspeare.  Fol. 

[Catalogue  of  the  Library  of  Henry  Fairfax  (son  of  Thomas,  Lord 
Fairfax),  who  died  in  1665.  Sloane  MS.  1872,  p.  81.] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1665. 

January  iqih.  .  .  .  Home  to  dinner,  thence  with  my  wife  to 
the  King's  house,  there  to  see   Vulpone,  a  most  excellent  play; 
the  best  I  think  I  ever  saw,  and  well  acted. 
[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Robert  Wilde,  1665. 

Ten  crowns  to  such  a  thing!   Friend,  'tis  a  dose 
Able  to  raise  dead  Ben,  or  Davenant's  nose; 
Able  to  make  a  courtier  prove  a  friend, 
And  more  than  all  of  them  in  victuals  spend. 
[Poems  of  Robert  Wilde,  ed.  J.  Hunt,  1870,  p.  64.] 


334  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  1665. 

Whereas  Thomas  Williams,  of  the  society  of  real  and  well- 
meaning  Chymists  hath  prepaired  certain  Medicynes  for  the  cure 
and  prevention  of  the  Plague  ...  to  be  disposed  of  at  the 
Green  Ball,  within  Liidgate,  the  Ben  Jonson's  Head,  near  York- 
house,  .  .  . 

[Quoted  from  The  Newes,  August  24,  1665,  in  Larwood  and    Hotten's 
History  of  Signboards,  1866,  p.  66.] 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  1665. 

Of  Persons  of  Note  in  his  [Charles  7]  time. 

Nor  may  we  omit  the  Poets  then  famous,  which  excell'd,  or 
equall'd,  all  that  went  before  and  shall  come  after;  such  as 
were  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  Mr.  Edmond  Waller,  Mr.  Tho. 
Carew,  Sir  John  Suckling,  Mr.  Thomas  Randolph,  Mr.  Thomas 
Cartwright,  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley,  and  Sir  William  Davenant; 
The  first  whereof  by  his  profound  Learning  and  Judgement, 
shewed  a  Poet  was  to  be  as  well  made  as  born:  And  the  later 
though  he  wanted  Learning,  made  as  high  and  noble  flights  as 
fancy  could  advance  without  it. 

[A  Chronicle  of  the  Kings  of  England,  1665;   in  the  edition  of  1674,  p. 
604A.     See  also  the  entry  under  "Sir  Richard  Baker,  1660."] 

I.  B.  and  Alexander  Brome,  before  1666. 

An  Epistle  from  a  friend  [I.  B]  to  the  author,  upbraiding 

him  with  his  writing  songs. 

Dear  friend,  believe' t,  my  love  has  spurr'd  me  on 
For  once  to  question  thy  discretion : 
And  by  right  reason  deifi'd  by  thee, 
I  blame  thee  for  the  wrongs  to  poesy 
Thou  hast  committed,  in  betraying  it 
To  th'censure  (not  the  judgment)  of  each  wit: 
Wit,  did  I  say?     Things  whose  dull  spirits  are 
Apt  only  to  applaud  whate'er  they  hear, 
Be't  good  or  good,  so  throated  to  their  mind, 
Johnson  and  Taylor  like  acceptance  find. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  335 

The  Answer. 

.  .  .  Johnson  and  Taylor,  in  their  kind,  were  both 
Good  wits,  who  likes  one,  need  not  t'other  loath. 
Wit  is  like  beauty,  Nature  made  the  Joan 
As  well's  the  lady.     We  see  every  one 
Meets  with  a  match.     Neither  can  I  expect 
Thou  more  my  Muse  than  mistress  should'st  affect: 
And  yet  I  like  them  both,  if  you  don't  too, 
Can't  you  let  them  alone  for  those  that  do? 

[The  Poems  of  Alexander  Brome,  ed.  Johnson  and  Chalmers,  1810,  in 
The  Works  of  the  English  Poets,  from  Chaucer  to  Cowper,  vi,  678.] 

Anonymous,  1666. 

Great  MONK  so  thundered,  that  'twas  hard  to  say 
Whether  'twas  He,  or  Fate,  that  got  the  Day. 

Smith  sent  such  Thunderbolts  as  ne'r  were  made 
By  Vulcan,  since  he  first  wrought  of  his  Trade; 
Who  gaz'd,  but  durst  not  come  within  a  Shot, 
For  fear  his  other  Legg  had  gone  to  Pott 

Had  Goffe,  Ben  Johnson,  or  had  Shakespear  been "j 

Spectators  there,  such  Acts  they  should  have  seen, f- 

As  they  ne'r  acted  in  an  English  Scean: J 

[The  Dutch  Gazette,  1666.] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1667. 

February  gth.  .  .  .  Then  went  home  and  read  a  piece  of  a 
play,  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  wherein  is  the  greatest  propriety 
of  speech  that  ever  I  read  in  my  life:  and  so  to  bed. 
*         *         *         * 

April  i6th.  ...  At  noon  home  to  dinner,  and  thence  in 
haste  to  carry  my  wife  to  see  the  new  play  I  saw  yesterday 
[The  Change  of  Crownes],  she  not  knowing  it.  But  there,  contrary 
to  expectation,  find  The  Silent  Woman.  However,  in;  and 
there  Knipp  come  into  the  pit.  ...  I  never  was  more  taken 
with  a  play  than  I  am  with  this  Silent  Woman,  as  old  as  it  is, 
and  as  often  as  I  have  seen  it.  There  is  more  wit  in  it  than 
goes  to  ten  new  plays. 


336  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

July  joth.  .  .  .  But  it  is  a  pretty  thing  he  told  us  how  the 
King,  once  speaking  of  the  Duke  of  York's  being  mastered  by 
his  wife,  said  to  some  of  the  company  by,  that  he  would  go  no 
more  abroad  with  this  Tom  Otter  (meaning  the  Duke  of  York) 
and  his  wife.  Tom  Killigrew,  being  by,  answered,  "Sir,"  says 
he,  "pray  which  is  the  best  for  a  man,  to  be  a  Tom  Otter  to  his 
wife  or  to  his  mistress?  "  meaning  the  King's  being  so  to  my 
Lady  Castlemayne. 

*  *         *         * 

December  7th.  .  .  .  She  tells  us  that  Catiline  is  likely  to  be 
soon  acted,  which  I  am  glad  to  hear. 

*  *         *         * 

December  nth.  .  .  .  Here  [in  Westminster  Hall]  I  met  Rolt 
and  Sir  John  Chichly,  and  Harris,  the  player,  and  there  we 
talked  of  many  things,  and  particularly  of  Catiline,  which  is  to 
be  suddenly  acted  at  the  King's  house;  and  there  all  agree  that 
it  cannot  be  well  done  at  that  house,  there  not  being  good  actors 
enow:  and  Burt  acts  Cicero,  which  they  all  conclude  he  will  not 
be  able  to  do  well.  The  King  gives  them  £500  for  robes,  there 
being,  as  they  say,  to  be  sixteen  scarlett  robes. 
[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

John  Caryl,  1667. 

A  formal  Critick  with  his  wise  Grimace 
Will  on  the  Stage  appear  with  no  ill  grace: 
Most  of  that  Trade  in  this  Censorious  Age 
Have  little  of  the  Poet,  but  his  Rage : 
Perhaps  old  Johnson's  Gall  may  fill  their  Pen; 
But  where's  the  Judgment,  and  the  salt  of  Ben? 
[Epilogue  to  The  English  Princess,  1667,  p.  66.  j 

John  Dryden,  1667. 

He  who  writ  this,  not  without  pains  and  thought, 
From  French  and  English  theatres  has  brought 
The  exactest  rules,  by  which  a  play  is  wrought. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  337 

The  unities  of  action,  place,  and  time; 
The  scenes  unbroken;   and  a  mingled  chime 
Of  Jonson's  humour,  with  Corneille's  rhyme. 
[Prologue  to  Secret  Love,  first  acted  in  1667,  printed  in  1668.] 

John  Dryden,  1667. 

Warn[er].  Why,  sir,  are  you  stark  mad?  have  you  no  grain 
of  sense  left?  He's  gone!  Now  is  he  as  earnest  in  the  quarrel 
as  Cokes  among  the  puppets;  'tis  to  no  purpose,  whatever  I  do 
for  him. 

[Sir  Martin  Mar-All  (acted  1667),  V,  i.  The  allusion  is  to  Jonson's 
Bartholomew  Fair,  V,  iii.] 

John  Dryden,  1667. 

As  when  a  tree's  cut  down,  the  secret  root 

Lives  under  ground,  and  thence  new  branches  shoot; 

So,  from  old  Shakespeare's  honour'd  dust,  this  day 

Springs  up  and  buds  a  new- reviving  play: 

Shakespeare,  who  (taught  by  none)  did  first  impart 

To  Fletcher  wit,  to  labouring  Jonson  art.  . 

He,  monarch-like,  gave  those  his  subjects,  law; 

And  is  that  nature  which  they  paint  and  draw. 

Fletcher  reached  that  which  on  his  heights  did  grow, 

Whilst  Jonson  crept,  and  gathered  all  below. 

This  did  his  love,  and  this  his  mirth  digest: 

One  imitates  him  most,  the  other  best. 

If  they  have  since  out-writ  all  other  men, 

'Tis  with  the  drops  which  fell  from  Shakespeare's  pen. 

[Prologue  to  The  Tempest;  or  The  Enchanted  Island,  by  Dryden  and 
Davenant,  acted  in  1667.  The  Prologue  appears  to  have  been 
written  by  Dryden.] 

Elkanah  Settle,  1667. 

Poets  ought  to  write  with  the  same  spirit  Caesar  fought: 
Indiff'rent  Writers  are  contemn'd  for  now  There  grow  no  Lawrels 
for  a  common  brow:  None  but  great  Ben,  Shakespear,  or  whom 
this  Age  Has  made  their  Heirs,  succeed  now  on  the  Stage. 

[Prologue  to  Cambyses,  King  of  Persia,  acted  in  1667.] 
23 


338  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  about  1668. 

Elegy  on  Sir  William  Davenant. 

***** 
First,  in  the  broad  Elysian  streets, 
He  his  old  father  Jonson  meets : 
Then  him  his  cousin  Shakespeare  greets ; 
But  his  friend  Suckling  lent  him  sheets. 

Cowley  a  fair  apartment  keeps : 

Receiving  him  with  joy  he  weeps; 

Into  his  bed  Sir  William  creeps, 

And  now  in  Abraham's  bosom  sleeps. 

[Reprinted  in  Huth's  Inedited  Poetical  Miscellanies,  1870,  from  a  tran 
script  written  on  some  of  the  flyleaves  of  a  copy  of  Denham's  Poems, 
1668.] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1668. 

January  nth.  .  .  .  Knepp  came  and  sat  by  us.  ...  She  told 
me  also  of  a  play  shortly  coming  upon  the  Stage,  of  Sir  Charles 
Sidly's,  which,  she  thinks,  will  be  called  The  Wandering  Ladys, 
a  comedy  that,  she  thinks,  will  be  most  pleasant;  and  also 
another  play,  called  The  Duke  of  Lerma;  besides  Catelin,  which 
she  thinks,  for  want  of  the  clothes  which  the  King  promised 
them,  will  not  be  acted  for  a  good  while. 

*  *         *         * 

February  22nd.  .  .  .  Thence  to  the  Duke's  playhouse,  and 
there  saw  Albumazar,  an  old  play,  this  the  second  time  of  acting. 
It  is  said  to  have  been  the  ground  of  B.  Jonson's  Alchymist; 
but,  saving  the  ridiculousnesse  of  Angell's  part,  which  is  called 
Trinkilo,  I  do  not  see  any  thing  extraordinary  in  it,  but  was 
indeed  weary  of  it  before  it  was  done. 

*  *         *         * 

September  4th.  .  .  .  To  the  Fair  .  .  .  my  wife  having  a  mind 
to  see  the  play  Bartholomew  Fayre,  with  puppets.  Which  we 
did,  and  it  is  an  excellent  play;  the  more  I  see  it,  the  more  I 
love  the  wit  of  it;  only  the  business  of  abusing  the  Puritans 
begins  to  grow  stale,  and  of  no  use,  they  being  the  people  that, 
at  last,  will  be  found  the  wisest. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  339 

September  i8th.  ...  So  to  the  King's  house,  and  saw  a  piece 
of  Henry  the  Fourth;  at  the  end  of  the  play  thinking  to  have 
gone  abroad  with  Knepp,  but  it  was  too  late,  and  she  to  get  her 
part  against  to-morrow,  in  The  Silent  Woman,  and  so  I  only  set 
her  at  home,  and  away  home  myself. 

*  *         *         * 

September  iQth.  .  .  .  Then  to  the  King's  playhouse,  and  there 
saw  The  Silent  Woman;  the  best  comedy,  I  think,  that  ever 
was  wrote;  and  sitting  by  Shadwell  the  poet,  he  was  big  with 
admiration  of  it. 

*  *         *         * 

December  igih.  Up,  and  to  the  office,  where  all  the  morning, 
and  at  noon,  eating  very  little  dinner,  my  wife  and  I  by  hackney 
to  the  King's  playhouse,  and  there,  the  pit  being  full,  sat  in  a 
box  above,  and  saw  Catiline's  Conspiracy,  yesterday  being  the 
first  day:  a  play  of  much  good  sense  and  words  to  read,  but 
that  do  appear  the  worst  upon  the  stage,  I  mean,  the  least 
diverting,  that  ever  I  saw  any,  though  most  fine  in  clothes; 
and  a  fine  scene  of  the  Senate,  and  of  a  fight,  that  ever  I  saw  in 
my  life.  But  the  play  is  only  to  be  read,  and  therefore  home, 
with  no  pleasure  at  all. 

[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

Richard  Flecknoe,  1668. 

Sir  William  D'Avenant's  Voyage  to  the  Other  World, 
....  Nor  was  he  less  amaz'd  than  they,  to  find  never  a 
poet  there,  antient  nor  modern,  whom  in  some  sort  or  other  he 
had  not  disoblig'd  by  his  discommendations;  as  Homer,  Virgil, 
Tasso,  Spencer,  and  especially  Ben.  Johnson.  .  .  .  Nay,  even 
Shakespear,  whom  he  thought  to  have  found  his  greatest  friend, 
was  so  much  offended  with  him  as  any  of  the  rest,  for  so  spoiling 
and  mangling  of  his  plays. 

[Sir  William  D'Avenants  Voyage  to  the  Other  World:   With  his  Adventures 
in  the  Poets  Elizium,  1668.] 

Anonymous,  1668. 

An  Elegy   Upon  the  Death  of  Sir  William  Davenant. 
Now  Davenant  is  arriv'd,  the  Fields  and  Plains 
Resound  unto  his  Welcome  Lofty  Strains. 


340  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

For  every  Poet  there  it  shall  be  free 
To  raise  his  Joy  unto  an  Extasie. 

Imagine  him  encircled  in  a  Sphere 
Of  those  Great  Souls  who  once  admired  him  here : 
First,  Johnson  doth  demand  a  share  in  him, 
For  both  their  Muses  whip'd  the  Vice  of  time : 
Then  Shakespear  next  a  Brothers  part  doth  claim, 
Because  their  quick  Inventions  were  the  same. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  their  Petitions  joyn, 
This  for  clear  Style,  that  for  his  deep  Design : 
Tom  Randolph  asks  a  Portion  'monst  the  rest, 
Because  they  both  were  apt  to  break  a  Jest. 
Shirley  and  Massinger  comes  in  for  shares, 
For  that  his  Language  was  refin'd  as  theirs  : 
Laborious  Heywood,  witty  Brome,  and  Rowley, 
The  learned  Chapman,  and  ingenious  Cowley, 
Ask  their  proportions  as  they've  gain'd  applause, 
By  well  observing  the  Drammatick  Laws : 
Last,  Sir  John  Suckling  saith  his  Title  lies, 
Because  they  both  (were  Knights,  and)  writ  concise. 

[From  a  folio  broadside,  reprinted    in    A    Little    Ark,  edited    by  G. 
Thorn-Drury.J 

John  Dryden,  1668. 

An  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy. 

In  the  meantime,  I  must  desire  you  to  take  notice,  that  the 
greatest  man  of  the  last  age  (Ben  Jonson)  was  willing  to  give 
place  to  them  in  all  things:  he  was  not  only  a  professed  imitator 
of  Horace,  but  a  learned  plagiary  of  all  the  others;  you  track 
him  everywhere  in  their  snow.  If  Horace,  Lucan,  Petronius 
Arbiter,  Seneca,  and  Juvenal  had  their  own  from  him,  there  are 
few  serious  thoughts  which  are  new  in  him:  you  will  pardon 
me,  therefore,  if  I  presume  he  loved  their  fashion,  when  he  wore 
their  clothes.  But  since  I  have  otherwise  a  great  veneration  for 
him,  and  you,  Eugenius,  prefer  him  above  all  other  poets,  I  will 
use  no  further  argument  to  you  than  his  example :  I  will  produce 
before  you  Father  Ben,  dressed  in  all  the  ornaments  and  colours 


TO  BEN  JONSON  341 

of  the  ancients;  you  will  need  no  other  guide  to  our  party,  if 
you  follow  him ;  and  whether  you  consider  the  bad  plays  of  our 
age,  or  regard  the  good  plays  of  the  last,  both  the  best  and  worse 
of  the  modern  poets  will  instruct  you  to  admire  the  ancients. 
(P-  300.) 

*  *         *         * 

Beaumont,  Fletcher,  and  Jonson  (who  were  only  capable  of 
bringing  us  to  that  degree  of  perfection  which  we  have) .  (P.  316.) 

*  *         *         * 

And  you  see  in  some  places  a  little  farce  mingled,  which  is 
below  the  dignity  of  the  other  parts;  and  in  this  all  our  poets 
are  extremely  peccant:  even  Ben  Jonson  himself,  in  Sejanus 
and  Catiline,  has  given  us  this  olio  of  a  play,  this  unnatural 
mixture  of  comedy  and  tragedy,  which  to  me  sounds  just  as 
ridiculously  as  the  history  of  David  with  the  merry  humours  of 
Golias.  (P.  321.) 

*  *         *         * 

But  their  humours  [those  of  the  French  playwrights],  if  I 
may  grace  them  with  that  name,  are  so  thin  sown,  that  never 
above  one  of  them  comes  up  in  any  play.  I  dare  take  upon  me 
to  find  more  variety  of  them  in  some  one  play  of  Ben  Jonson 's 
than  in  all  theirs  together:  as  he  who  has  seen  the  Alchemist, 
The  Silent  Woman,  or  Bartholomew  Fair,  cannot  but  acknowledge 

with  me.     (P.  331.) 

*  *         *         * 

And  for  your  instance  of  Ben  Jonson,  who,  you  say,  writ 
exactly  without  the  help  of  rhyme;  you  are  to  remember,  it  is 
only  an  aid  to  a  luxuriant  fancy,  which  his  was  not:  as  he  did 
not  want  imagination,  so  none  ever  said  he  had  much  to  spare. 

(P.  336.) 

*  *         *         * 

But  for  death,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  represented,  I  have 
.  .  .  the  authority  of  Ben  Jonson,  who  has  forborne  it  in  his 
tragedies;  for  both  the  death  of  Sejanus  and  Catiline  are  related ; 
though,  in  the  latter,  I  cannot  but  observe  one  irregularity  of 
that  great  poet;  he  has  removed  the  scene  in  the  same  act, 
from  Rome  to  Catiline's  army,  and  from  thence  again  to  Rome; 


342  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

and  besides,  has  allowed  a  very  considerable  time  after  Catiline's 
speech,  for  the  striking  of  the  battle,  and  the  return  of  Petreius, 
who  is  to  relate  the  event  of  it  to  the  senate ;  which  I  should  not 
animadvert  on  him,  who  was  otherwise  a  painful  observer  of 
TO  irpeirov  or  the  decorum  of  the  stage,  if  he  had  not  used  extreme 
severity  in  his  judgment  on  the  incomparable  Shakespeare  for 
the  same  fault.  (P.  337.) 

*         *         *         * 

I  will  take  the  pattern  of  a  perfect  play  from  Ben  Jonson, 
who  was  a  careful  and  learned  observer  of  the  dramatic  laws, 
and  from  all  his  comedies  I  shall  select  The  Silent  Woman,  of 
which  I  will  make  a  short  examen,  according  to  those  rules 
which  the  French  observe. 

As  Neander  was  beginning  to  examine  The  Silent  Woman, 
Eugenius,  earnestly  regarding  him;  I  beseech  you,  Neander, 
said  he,  gratify  the  company,  and  me  in  particular,  so  far  as, 
before  you  speak  of  the  play,  to  give  us  a  character  of  the  author ; 
and  tell  us  frankly  your  opinion,  whether  you  do  not  think  all 
writers,  both  French  and  English,  ought  to  give  place  to  him? 

I  fear,  replied  Neander,  that,  in  obeying  your  commands,  I 
shall  draw  some  envy  on  myself.  Besides,  in  performing  them, 
it  will  be  first  necessary  to  speak  somewhat  of  Shakespeare  and 
Fletcher,  his  rivals  in  poesy;  and  one  of  them,  in  my  opinion, 
at  least  his  equal,  perhaps  his  superior.  [Following  this  is  a 
passage  dealing  with  Shakespeare,  which  introduces  the  paragraph 
quoted  below.] 

The  consideration  of  this  [Shakespeare's  great  and  compre 
hensive  genius]  made  Mr.  Hales  of  Eton  say,  that  there  was  no 
subject  of  which  any  poet  ever  writ,  but  he  would  produce  it 
much  better  done  in  Shakespeare;  and  however  others  are  now 
generally  preferred  before  him,  yet  the  age  wherein  he  lived, 
which  had  contemporaries  with  him,  Fletcher  and  Jonson,  never 
equalled  them  to  him  in  their  esteem:  and  in  the  last  King's 
court,  when  Ben's  reputation  was  at  highest,  Sir  John  Suckling, 
and  with  him  the  greater  part  of  the  courtiers,  set  our  Shakespeare 
far  above  him. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  343 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  of  whom  I  am  next  to  speak,  had, 
with  the  advantage  of  Shakespeare's  wit,  which  was  their  prece 
dent,  great  natural  gifts,  improved  by  study;  Beaumont  especi 
ally  being  so  accurate  a  judge  of  plays,  that  Ben  Jonson,  while 
he  lived,  submitted  all  his  writings  to  his  censure,  and  'tis  thought, 
used  his  judgment  in  correcting,  if  not  contriving,  all  his  plots. 
What  value  he  had  for  him,  appears  by  the  verses  he  writ  to 
him;  and  therefore  I  need  speak  no  fuither  of  it.  The  first 
play  that  brought  Fletcher  and  him  in  esteem,  was  their  Philaster; 
for  before  that,  they  had  written  two  or  three  very  unsuccessfully: 
as  the  like  is  reported  of  Ben  Jonson,  before  he  writ  Every  Man 
in  his  Humour.  Their  plots  were  generally  more  regular  than 
Shakespeare's,  especially  those  which  were  made  before  Beau 
mont's  death;  and  they  understood  and  imitated  the  conversa 
tion  of  gentlemen  much  better;  whose  wild  debaucheries,  and 
quickness  of  wit  in  repartees,  no  poet  before  them  could  paint 
as  they  have  done.  Humour,  which  Ben  Jonson  derived  from 
particular  persons,  they  made  it  not  their  business  to  describe: 
they  represented  all  the  passions  very  lively,  but  above  all, 
love.  .  .  .  Their  plays  are  now  the  most  pleasant  and  frequent 
entertainments  of  the  stage;  two  of  theirs  being  acted  through 
the  year  for  one  of  Shakespeare's  or  Jonson 's:  the  reason  is, 
because  there  is  a  certain  gaiety  in  their  comedies,  and  pathos 
in  their  more  serious  plays,  which  suits  generally  with  all  men's 
humours.  Shakespeare's  language  is  likewise  a  little  obsolete, 
and  Ben  Jonson's  wit  comes  short  of  theirs. 

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.  In  his  works  you  find  little  to 
retrench  or  alter.  Wit  and  language,  and  humour  also  in  some 
measure,  we  had  before  him;  but  something  of  art  was  wanting 
to  the  drama,  till  he  came.  He  managed  his  strength  to  more 
advantage  than  any  who  preceded  him.  You  seldom  find  him 
making  love  in  any  of  his  scenes,  or  endeavouring  to  move  the 


344  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

passions;  his  genius  was  too  sullen  and  saturnine  to  do  it  grace 
fully,  especially  when  he  came  after  those  who  had  performed 
both  to  such  an  height.  Humour  was  his  proper  sphere;  and 
in  that  he  delighted  most  to  represent  mechanic  people.  He  was 
deeply  conversant  in  the  ancients,  both  Greek  and  Latin,  and 
he  borrowed  boldly  from  them :  there  is  scarce  a  poet  or  historian 
among  the  Roman  authors  of  those  times,  whom  he  has  not 
translated  in  Sejanus  and  Catiline.  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.  With  the  spoils  of  these 
writers  he  so  represents  old  Rome  to  us,  in  its  rites,  ceremonies, 
and  customs,  that  if  one  of  their  poets  had  written  either  of  his 
tragedies,  we  had  seen  less  of  it  than  in  him.  If  there  was  any 
fault  in  his  language,  it  was,  that  he  weaved  it  too  closely  and 
laboriously,  in  his  comedies  especially:  perhaps,  too,  he  did  a 
little  too  much  Romanize  our  tongue,  leaving  the  words  which 
he  translated  almost  as  much  Latin  as  he  found  them:  wherein, 
though  he  learnedly  followed  their  language,  he  did  not  enough 
comply  with  the  idiom  of  ours.  If  I  would  compare  him  with 
Shakespeare,  I  must  acknowledge  him  the  more  correct  poet, 
but  Shakespeare  the  greater  wit.  Shakespeare  was  the  Homer, 
or  father  of  our  dramatic  poets;  Jonson  was  the  Virgil,  the 
pattern  of  elaborate  writing;  I  admire  him,  but  I  love  Shake 
speare.  To  conclude  of  him;  as  he  has  given  us  the  most 
correct  plays,  so  in  the  precepts  which  he  has  laid  down  in  his 
Discoveries,  we  have  as  many  and  profitable  rules  for  perfecting 
the  stage,  as  any  wherewith  the  French  can  furnish  us. 

Having  thus  spoken  of  the  author,  I  proceed  to  the  examination 
of  his  comedy,  The  Silent  Woman.  .  .  .  (Pp.  343-48.) 
*         *         *         * 

And  this,  sir,  calls  to  my  remembrance  the  beginning  of  your 
discourse,  where  you  told  us  we  should  never  find  the  audience 
favourable  to  this  kind  of  writing,  till  we  could  produce  as  good 
plays  in  rhyme  as  Ben  Jonson,  Fletcher,  and  Shakespeare  had 
writ  out  of  it.  But  it  is  to  raise  envy  to  the  living  to  compare 
them  with  the  dead.  They  are  honoured,  and  almost  adored 


TO  BEN  JONSON  345 

by  us,  as  they  deserve ;  neither  do  I  know  any  so  presumptuous 
of  themselves  as  to  contend  with  them.  Yet  give  me  leave  to 
say  thus  much,  without  injury  to  their  ashes,  that  not  only  we 
shall  never  equal  them,  but  they  could  never  equal  themselves, 
were  they  to  rise  and  write  again.  We  acknowledge  them  our 
fathers  in  wit,  but  they  have  ruined  their  estates  themselves, 
before  they  came  to  their  children's  hands.  There  is  scarce  an 
humour,  a  character,  or  any  kind  of  plot,  which  they  have  not 
used.  All  comes  sullied  or  wasted  to  us:  and  were  they  to 
entertain  this  age,  they  could  not  now  make  so  plenteous  treat 
ments  out  of  such  decayed  fortunes.  This  therefore  will  be  a 
good  argument  to  us  either  not  to  write  at  all  or  to  attempt  some 
other  way.  There  is  no  bays  to  be  expected  in  their  walks: 
tentanda  via  est,  qua  me  guoque  possum  tollere  humo.  (P.  366.) 

[An  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy,  1668;  the  page  references  are  to  The 
Works  of  John  Dryden,  ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1892,  vol.  xv. 
The  passages  cited  are  the  more  significant  ones,  but  the  student 
interested  in  Jonson-  should  examine  the  entire  essay.] 

John  Dryden,  1668. 

In  Bartholomew  Fair,  or  the  lowest  kind  of  comedy,  that  degree 
of  heightening  is  used,  which  is  proper  to  set  off  that  subject:  It 
is  true  the  author  was  not  there  to  go  out  of  prose,  as  he  does  in 
his  higher  arguments  of  comedy,  The  Fox  and  Alchemist;  yet  he 
does  so  raise  his  matter  in  that  prose,  as  to  render  it  delightful; 
which  he  could  never  had  performed,  had  he  only  said  or  done 
those  very  things,  that  are  daily  spoken  or  practised  in  the  fair: 
for  then  the  fair  itself  would  be  as  full  of  pleasure  to  an  ingenious 
person  as  the  play,  which  we  manifestly  see  it  is  not.  But  he 
hath  made  an  excellent  lazar  of  it;  the  copy  is  of  price,  though 
the  original  be  vile.  You  see  in  Catiline  and  Sejanus  where  the 
argument  is  great,  he  sometimes  ascends  to  verse,  which  shows 
he  thought  it  not  unnatural  in  serious  plays;  and  had  his  genius 
been  as  proper  for  rhyme  as  it  was  for  honour,  or  had  the  age  in 
which  he  lived  attained  to  as  much  knowledge  in  verse  as  ours, 
it  is  probable  he  would  have  adorned  those  subjects  with  that 
kind  of  writing.  (P.  296.) 


346  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

But  he  must  pardon  me  if  I  have  that  veneration  for  Aristotle, 
Horace,  Ben  Johnson,  and  Corneille,  that  I  dare  not  serve  him  in 
such  a  cause,  and  against  such  heroes,  but  rather  fight  under 
their  protection,  as  Homer  reports  of  little  Teucer,  who  shot  the 
Trojans  from  under  the  large  buckler  of  Ajax  Telamon : 

ZTTJ  5'ap'  I>TT'  At  a  pros  <rd/cet  TeXa/KondSmo. 
He  stood  beneath  his  brother's  ample  shield; 
And  cover'd  there,  shot  death  through  all  the  field.     (P.  304.) 

*  *         *         * 

Those  propositions,  which  are  laid  down  in  my  discourse  as 
helps  to  the  better  imitation  of  nature,  are  not  mine  (as  I  have 
said),  nor  were  ever  pretended  so  to  be,  but  derived  from  the 
authority  of  Aristotle  and  Horace,  and  from  the  rules  and  ex 
amples  of  Ben  Jonson  and  Corneille.  (P.  308.) 

*  *         *         * 

Few  Englishmen,  except  Ben  Jonson,  have  ever  made  a  plot, 
with  variety  of  design  in  it,  included  in  twenty-four  hours, 
which  was  altogether  natural.  For  this  reason,  I  prefer  the 
Silent  Woman  before  all  other  plays,  I  think  justly,  as  I  do  its 
author,  in  judgment,  above  all  other  poets.  (P.  314.) 

[A  Defence  of  an  Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesy;  being  an  answer  to  the  Preface 
of  the  Great  Favourite,  or  The  Duke  of  Lerma,  1668;  the  page 
references  are  to  the  edition  of  The  Dramatic  Works  of  John  Dryden, 
.ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1882,  vol.  ii.] 

John  Dryden,  1668. 

To  say  this  comedy  pleased  long  ago, 
Is  not  enough  to  make  it  pass  you  now. 
Yet,  gentlemen,  your  ancestors  had  wit, 
When  few  men  censuied,  and  when  fewer  writ. 
And  Jonson,  of  those  few  the  best,  chose  this, 
As  the  best  model  of  his  master-piece : 
Subtle  was  got  by  our  Albumazar, 
That  Alchymist  by  this  Astrologer; 
Here  he  was  fashioned,  and  we  may  suppose, 
He  liked  the  fashion  well,  who  wore  the  clothes. 
But  Ben  made  nobly  his  what  he  did  mould ; 
What  was  another's  lead,  becomes  his  gold: 


TO  BEN  JONSON 

Like  an  unrighteous  conqueror  he  reigns, 
Yet  rules  that  well  which  he  unjustly  gains. 
[Prologue  to  the  1668  edition  of  John  Tompkins's  Albumazar. 

Sir  John  Denham,  1668. 

On  Mr.  Abraham  Cowley. 
Old  Chaucer,  like  the  morning  Star, 
To  us  discovers  day  from  far, 
His  lights  those  Mists  and  Clouds  dissolv'd, 
Which  our  dark  Nation  long  involv'd; 
But  he  descending  to  the  shades, 
Darkness  again  the  Age  invades. 
Next  (like  Aurora)  Spencer  rose, 
Whose  purple  blush  the  day  foreshows. 

***** 
By  Shakespear's,  Johnson's,  Fletcher's  lines, 
Our  Stages  lustre  Rome's  outshines: 
These  Poets  neer  our  Princes  sleep, 
And  in  one  Grave  their  Mansion  keep. 


347 


Time,  which  made  them  their  Fame  outlive, 
To  Cowly  scarce  did  ripeness  give. 
Old  Mother  Wit,  and  Nature  gave 
Shakespear  and  Fletcher  all  they  have ; 
In  Spencer,  and  in  Johnson,  Art 
Of  flower  Nature  got  the  start. 

***** 
He  melted  not  the  ancient  Gold, 
Nor  with  Ben  Johnson  did  make  bold 
To  plunder  all  the  Roman  Stores 
Of  Poets,  and  of  Orators: 
Horace  his  Wit,  and  Virgil's  State, 
He  did  not  steal,  but  emulate, 
And  when  he  would  like  them  appear, 
Their  Garb,  but  not  their  Cloaths,  did  wear. 
[Poems  and  Translations,  with  The  Sophy,  1668,  p.  89.] 


348  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thomas  Shad  well,  1668. 

The  success  of  this  Play,  as  it  was  much  more  than  it  deserved, 
so  was  much  more  than  I  expected;  especially  in  this  very 
critical  age,  when  every  man  pretends  to  be  a  judge,  and  some, 
that  never  read  three  Plays  in  their  lives,  and  never  understood 
one,  are  as  positive  in  their  judgment  of  Plays,  as  if  they  were 

all  Jonsons. 

*         *         *         * 

I  have  endeavoured  to  represent  variety  of  humours  (most  of 
the  persons  of  the  Play  differing  in  their  characters  from  one 
another),  which  was  the  practice  of  Ben  Jonson,  whom  I  think 
all  dramatic  poets  ought  to  imitate,  though  none  are  like  to 
come  near;  he  being  the  only  person  that  appears  to  me  to 
have  made  perfect  representations  of  human  life.  Most  other 
authors,  that  I  ever  read,  either  have  wild  romantic  tales,  wherein 
they  strain  love  and  honour  to  that  ridiculous  height  that  it 
becomes  burlesque ;  or  in  their  lower  comedies  content  themselves 
with  one  or  two  humours  at  most,  and  those  not  near  such 
perfect  characters  as  the  admirable  Jonson  always  made,  who 
never  wrote  comedy  without  seven  or  eight  excellent  humours. 
I  never  saw  one,  except  that  of  Falstaff ,  that  was  in  my  judgment 
comparable  to  any  of  Jonson 's  considerable  humours.  You  will 
pardon  this  digression,  when  I  tell  you  he  is  the  man,  of  all  the 
world,  I  most  passionately  admire  for  his  excellency  in  his 
dramatic  poetry. 

Though  I  have  known  some  of  late  so  insolent  to  say,  that 
Ben  Jonson  wrote  his  best  Plays  without  wit;  imagining  that 
all  the  wit  in  Plays  consisted  in  bringing  two  persons  upon  the 
stage  to  break  jests  and  to  bob  one  another,  which  they  call 
repartee;  not  considering  that  there  is  more  wit  and  invention 
required  in  the  finding  out  good  humour,  and  matter  proper  for 
it,  than  in  all  their  smart  repartees. 

[The  Preface  to  The  Sullen  Lovers,  1668.] 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1668. 

Stanf.  .  .  .  This  morning,  just  as  I  was  coming  to  look  for 
you,  Sir  Positive  At-all,  that  fool  that  will  let  no  man  understand 


TO  BEN  JONSON  349 

anything  in  his  company,  arrests  me  with  his  impertinence. 
Says  he,  with  a  great  deal  of  gravity,  "Perhaps  I  am  the  man 
of  the  world  that  have  found  out  two  Plays,  that  betwixt  you 
and  I  have  a  great  deal  of  wit  in  'em;  those  are,  The  Silent 
Woman  and  The  Scornful  Lady;  and  if  I  understand  anything 
in  the  world,  there's  wit  enough  in  both  those  to  make  one  good 
Play;  if  I  had  the  management  of  'em;  for  you  must  know, 
this  is  a  thing  I  have  thought  upon  and  considered."  (P.  15.) 
*  *  *  * 

ist  Clerk  (reads}:  "I  do  acknowledge  and  firmly  believe  that 
the  Play  of  Sir  Positive  At-all,  Knight,  called  'The  Lady  in  the 
Lobster,'  notwithstanding  it  was  damned  by  the  malice  of  the 
age,  shall  not  only  read,  but  it  shall  act,  with  any  of  Ben  Jonson's 
and  Beaumont's  and  Fletcher's  Plays — " 

Sir  Posit.  Hold,  hold!  I'll  have  Shakespear's  in;  'slife,  I 
had  like  to  have  forgot  that.  (P.  61.) 

[The  Sullen  Lovers,  1668.     The  page  references  are  to  the  Mermaid 
Edition  of  Shadwell;   cf.  also  p.  40.] 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1668. 

This  [play]    (being  never  by  him  intended  for  Action)   was 
wrote   in   single   Scenes    (without   that    Connexion,   which   the 
Incomparable  Johnson  first  taught  the  Stage). 
[Preface  to  The  Royal  Shepherdess,  1668.] 

Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of  Clarendon,  1668-70. 
Whilst  He  was  only  a  Student  of  the  Law,  and  stood  at  Gaze, 
and  irresolute  what  Course  of  Life  to  take,  his  chief  Acquaintance 
were  Ben.  Johnson,  John  Seldon,  Charles  Cotton,  John  Vaughan, 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  Thomas  May,  and  Thomas  Carew,  and  some 
others  of  eminent  Faculties  in  their  several  Ways.  Ben.  John 
son's  Name  can  never  be  forgotten,  having  by  his  very  good 
Learning,  and  the  Severity  of  his  Nature  and  Manners,  very 
much  reformed  the  Stage ;  and  indeed  the  English  Poetry  itself. 
His  natural  Advantages  were,  Judgment  to  order  and  govern 
Fancy,  rather  than  Excess  of  Fancy,  his  Productions  being  slow 
and  upon  Deliberation,  yet  then  abounding  with  great  Wit  and 


350  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Fancy  and  will  live  accordingly;  and  surely  as  He  did,  exceed 
ingly  exalt  the  English  Language  in  Eloquence,  Propriety,  and 
masculine  Expressions;  so  He  was  the  best  Judge  of,  and  fittest 
to  prescribe  Rules  to  Poetry  and  Poets,  of  any  Man  who  had 
lived  with,  or  before  him,  or  since:  If  Mr.  Cowley  had  not  made 
a  Flight  beyond  all  Men,  with  that  Modesty  yet,  to  ascribe 
much  of  this,  to  the  Example  and  Learning  of  Ben.  Johnson. 
His  Conversation  was  very  good,  and  with  the  Men  of  most 
Note;  and  He  had  for  many  Years  an  extraordinary  Kindness 
for  Mr.  Hyde,  till  He  found  He  betook  himself  to  Business, 
which  He  believed  ought  never  to  be  preferred  before  his  Com 
pany.  He  lived  to  be  very  old,  and  till  the  Palsy  made  a  deep 
Impression  upon  his  Body,  and  his  Mind. 

*  *         *         * 

He  [Sir  Lucius  Carey,  Viscount  Falkland]  seemed  to  have  his 
Estate  in  Trust,  for  all  worthy  Persons,  who  stood  in  Want  of 
Supplies  and  Encouragement,  as  Ben.  Johnson,  and  many  others 
of  that  Time,  whose  Fortunes  required,  and  whose  Spirits  made 
them  superior  to  ordinary  Obligations. 

[The  Life  of  Edward  Earl  of  Clarendon,   Written  by  Himself,  Oxford, 
1759,  i,  3«,  41-] 

Samuel  Pepys,  1669. 

February  22nd.  .  .  .  And  in  the  evening  I  do  carry  them  to 
White  Hall,  and  there  did  without  much  trouble  get  into  the 
playhouse,  there  in  a  good  place  among  the  Ladies  of  Honour, 
and  myself  also  sat  in  the  pit;  and  there  by  and  by  come  the 
King  and  Queen,  and  they  begun  Bartholomew  Fayre.  But  I 
like  no  play  here  so  well  as  at  the  common  playhouse;  besides 
that,  my  eyes  being  very  ill  since  last  Sunday  and  this  day 
se'nnight,  with  the  light  of  the  candles,  I  was  in  mighty  pain 
to  defend  myself  now  from  the  light  of  the  candles. 

*  *         *         * 

April  i?th.  ...  At  noon  home  to  dinner,  and  there  find  Mr. 
Pierce,  the  surgeon,  and  he  dined  with  us;  and  there  hearing 
that  The  Alchymist  was  acted,  we  did  go,  and  took  him  with  us 
to  the  King's  house ;  and  it  is  still  a  good  play,  having  not  been 


TO  BEN  JONSON  351 

acted  for  two  or  three  years  before;   but  I  do  miss  Clun,  for  the 
Doctor. 

[Diary,  ed.  H.  B.  Wheatley,  1893.] 

William  Ramsey,  1669. 

But  the  Noblest  exercise  of  the  mind  within  doors,  and  most 
befitting  a  Person  of  Quality,  is  Study,  sometimes  one,  and  some 
times  another,  for  Diversion,  were  not  amiss.  Which  are  most 
commendable,  and  becoming  a  Gentleman,  you  have  been  taught 
before.  And,  as  I  hinted  there;  A  few  good  Books  is  better  than 
a  Library,  and  a  main  part  of  Learning.  I  shall  here  contract 
his  Study  into  these  few  Books  following;  in  which  he  may 
indeed  reade  all  that  is  requisite,  and  of  Substance.  .  .  . 

And  among  our  selves,  old  Sr.  Jeffery  Chaucer,  Ben.  Johnson, 
Shakespear,  Spencer,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Dry  den,  and  what 
other  Playes  from  time  to  time  you  find  best  Penn'd;  And  for  a 
Diversion  you  may  read  Hudebras,  and  Don  Quixot,  and  Quevedo 
for  prose;  As  also  for  General  Readings,  Burton's  Melancholy, 
and  our  famous  Seldon  his  works. 

[The  Gentlemans  Companion,  1672,  Division  iv.  The  Dedication  bears 
the  date  "June  15,  1669."  A  MS.  note  on  the  title-page  of  the 
copy  described  by  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  Collections  and  Notes,  1876, 
p.  182,  attributes  the  work  to  Ramsey.] 

Edward  Phillips,  1669. 

Hoc  seculo  [sc.  temporibus  Elizabethae  reginae  et  Jacobi  regis] 
floruerunt  .  .  .  Gulielmus  Shacsperius,  qui  prseter  opera  Dram- 
atica,  duo  Poemata  Lucretice  stuprum  a  Tarquinio,  et  Amores 
Veneris  in  Adonidem,  Lyrica  carmina  nonnulla  composuit: 
videtur  fuisse,  siquis  alius,  re  vera  Poeta  natus.  Samuel  Daniel 
non  obscurus  hujus  setatis  Poeta,  etc.  .  .  . 

Ex  eis  qui  dramatice  scripserunt,  Primas  sibi  vendicant 
Shacsperus,  Jonsonus  et  Flecherus,  quorum  hie  facunda  et  polita 
quadam  familiaritate  Sermonis,  ille  erudito  judicio  et  Usu 
veterum  Authorum,  alter  nativa  quadam  et  Poetidl  sublimitate 
Ingenii  excelluisse  videntur.  Ante  hos  in  hoc  genere  Poeseos 
apud  nos  eminuit  Nemo.  Pauci  quidem  antea  scripserunt,  at 
parum  fceliciter;  hos  autem  tanquam  duces  itineris  plurimi 


352  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

saltern  semulati  sunt,  inter  quos  praeter  Sherleium,  (proximum 
a  supra  memorato  Triumviratu,)  Suclingium,  Randolphium, 
Davenantium  et  Carturitium  .  .  .  enumerandi  veniunt  Ric. 
Bromeus,  Tho.  Heivodus. 

[Tractatulus  de  Carmine  Dramatico  Poetarum,  et  compendiosa  Enumeratio 
Poetarum  a  Tempore  Dantis  Aligerii  usque  ad  hanc  Aetatem.  Added 
to  the  seventeenth  edition  of  Thesaurus  J.  Buchleri,  1669.  From 
the  edition  of  1679,  pp.  396,  397,  399.] 

Anonymous,  1669? 

To  heaven  once  ther  caime  a  poett,  a  friend  of  mine  swore  hee 

did  know  itt.  .  .  . 
Ould  Chauser  mett  him  in  great  state,  Spenser  and  Johnson  at 

the  gate 
Beamon  and  Flettchers  witt  mayd  one,  butt  Shakspeers  witt  did 

goe  aloane. 
[Verses  set  to  music,  in  Harl.  MS.  6947,  fol.  401.] 

John  Aubrey,  1669-96. 

Francis  Bacon  (1561-1626} . 

.  .  .  Mr.  Ben:  Johnson  was  one  of  his  friends  and  acquaint 
ance,  as  doeth  appeare  by  his  excellent  verses  on  his  lordship's 
birth-day  in  his  second  volume,  and  in  his  Underwoods,  where 
he  gives  him  a  character  and  concludes  that  ''about  his  time, 
and  within  his  view  were  borne  all  the  witts  that,  could  honour  a 
nation  or  help  studie."  (i,  68.) 

*         *         *         * 
Lucius  Carey,  viscount  Falkland  (1610-1643). 

.  .  .  For  learned  gentlemen  of  the  country,  his  acquaintance 
was  Sir  H.  Rainesford,  of  ...  neer  Stratford-upon-Avon,  now. 
.  .  .  (quaere  Tom  Mariet);  Sir  Francis  Wenman,  of  Caswell,  in 
Witney  parish;  Mr.  .  .  .  Sandys,  the  traveller  and  translator 
(who  was  uncle  to  my  lady  Wenman) ;  Ben.  Johnson  (vide 
Johnsonus  Virbius,  where  he  has  verses,  and  'twas  his  lordship, 
Charles  Gattaker  told  me,  that  gave  the  name  to  it) ;  Edmund 
Waller,  esq.;  Mr.  Thomas  Hobbes,  and  all  the  excellent  of  that 
peaceable  time,  (i,  151.) 


TO  BEN  JONSON  353 

John  Dee  (1527-1608}. 

...  He  used  to  distill  egge-shells,  and  'twas  from  hence  that 
Ben  Johnson  had  his  hint  of  the  alkimist,  whom  he  meant. 

(i,  2I30 

*  *         *         * 

Sir  Kenelm  Digby  (1603-1665}. 

.  .  .  See  excellent  verses  of  Ben:  Johnson  (to  whome  he  was 
a  great  patrone)  in  his  2d  volumne.  (i,  227.) 

*  *         *         * 

Thomas  Egerton,  lord  Ellesmere  (1540-1617}. 
.  .  .  He  was  a  great  patron  to  Ben  Johnson,  as  appeares  by 
severall  epistles  to  him.     (i,  245.) 

*  *         *         * 
Thomas  Hobbes  (1588-1670}. 

1634:  this  summer  Mr.  T.  H.  came  into  his  native  country  to 
visitt  his  friends.  .  .  .  Twas  the  last  time  that  ever  he  was  in 
Wiltshire. 

His  conversation  about  those  times  was  much  about  Ben : 
Jonson,  Mr.  Ayton,  etc.  .  .  . 

Catalogue  oj  his  learned  familiar  friends  and  acquaintances, 
besides  those  already  mentioned,  that  I  remember  him  to  have 
spoken  of. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  Poet-Laureat,  was  his  loving  and 
familiar  friend  and  acquaintance. 

[Sir  Robert]  Aiton,  Scoto-Britannus,  a  good  poet  and  critique 
and  good  scholar.  He  was  needy  related  to  his  lord's  lady 
(Bruce).  And  he  desired  Ben:  Johnson,  and  this  gentleman,  to 
give  their  judgement  on  his  style  of  his  translation  of  Thucydides. 

(i,  331,  332,  365-) 

*  *         *         * 

John  Hoskyns  (1566-1638}. 

Ben:  Johnson  called  him  father.  Sir  Benet  (bishop  Benet  of 
Hereford  was  his  godfather)  told  me  that  one  time  desiring  Mr. 
Johnson  to  adopt  him  for  his  sonne,  "No,"  said  he,  "I  dare  not; 
'tis  honour  enough  for  me  to  be  your  brother:  I  was  your  father's 
sonne,  and  'twas  he  that  polished  me."  (i,  418.) 


354  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Ben  Jonson  (1574-1637}. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  Poet  Laureat; — I  remember  when  I 
was  a  scholar  at  Trin.  Coll.  Oxon.  1646,  I  heard  Dr.  Ralph 
Bathurst  (now  deane  of  Wells)  say  that  Ben  Johnson  was  a 
Warwyckshire  man — sed  quaere.  Tis  agreed  that  his  father  was 
a  minister;  and  by  his  epistle  dedicat.  of  "Every  Man  ..." 
to  Mr.  William  Camden  that  he  was  a  Westminster  scholar  and 
that  Mr.  W.  Camden  was  his  school-master. 

Anthony  Wood  in  his  Hist.,  lib.  2,  p.  273,  sayes  he  was  borne 
in  Westminster:  that  (at  riper  yeares)  after  he  had  studied  at 
Cambridge  he  came  of  his  owne  accord  to  Oxon  and  there  entred 
himselfe  in  Ch.  Ch.  and  tooke  his  Master's  degree  in  Oxon  (or 
conferred  on  him)  anno  1619. 

His  mother,  after  his  father's  death,  maried  a  brick-layer; 
and  'tis  generally  sayd  that  he  wrought  sometime  with  his  father- 
in-lawe  (and  particularly  on  the  garden-wall  of  Lincoln's  Inne 
next  to  Chancery-lane — from  old  parson  [Richard]  Hill,  of 

Stretton,  Hereff.,  1646),  and  that ,  a  knight,  a 

bencher,  walking  thro'  and  hearing  him  repeat  some  Greeke 
verses  out  of  Homer,  discoursing  with  him,  and  finding  him  to 
have  a  witt  extraordinary,  gave  him  some  exhibition  to  maintaine 

him  at  Trinity  college  in  Cambridge,  where  he  was 

(quaere) . 

Then  he  went  into  the  Lowe-countreys,  and  spent  some  time 
(not  very  long)  in  the  armie,  not  to  the  disgrace  of  .  .  .  ,  as 
you  may  find  in  his  Epigrammes. 

Then  he  came  over  into  England,  and  acted  and  wrote,  but 
both  ill,  at  the  Green  Curtaine,  a  kind  of  nursery  or  obscure 
playhouse,  somewhere  in  the  suburbes  (I  thinke  towards  Shore- 
ditch  or  darken  well) — from  J.  Greenhill. 

Then  he  undertooke  againe  to  write  a  playe,  and  did  hitt  it 
admirably  well,  viz.  "Every  man  ..."  which  was  his  first 
good  one. 

Serjeant  John  Hoskins,  of  Herefordshire,  was  his  father.  I 
remember  his  sonne  (Sir  Bennet  Hoskins,  baronet,  who  was 
something  poeticall  in  his  youth)  told  me,  that  when  he  desired 
to  be  adopted  his  son:  "No,"  sayd  he,  "'tis  honour  enough  for 


TO  BEN  JONSON  355 

me  to  be  your  brother;  I  am  your  father's  son,  'twas  he  that 
polished  me,  I  doe  acknowledge  it." 

He  was  (or  rather  had  been)  of  a  clear  and  faire  skin ;  his  habit 
was  very  plaine.  I  have  heard  Mr.  Lacy,  the  player,  say  that 
he  was  wont  to  weare  a  coate  like  a  coachman's  coate,  with  slitts 
under  the  arme-pitts.  He  would  many  times  exceed  in  drinke 
(Canarie  was  his  beloved  liquour) :  then  he  would  tumble  home 
to  bed,  and,  when  he  had  throughly  perspired,  then  to  studie.  I 
have  seen  his  studyeing  chaire,  which  was  of  strawe,  such  as  old 
woemen  used,  and  as  Aulus  Gellius  is  drawen  in. 

When  I  was  in  Oxon,  bishop  Skinner  (of  Oxford),  who  lay  at 
our  College,  was  wont  to  say  that  he  understood  an  author  as 
well  as  any  man  in  England. 

He  mentions  in  his  Epigrammes  a  sonne  that  he  had,  and  his 
epitaph. 

Long  since,  in  King  James'  time,  I  have  heard  my  uncle  Dan- 
vers  say  (who  knew  him),  that  he  lived  without  Temple  Barre,  at 
a  combe-maker's  shop,  about  the  Elephant  and  Castle.  In  his 
later  time  he  lived  in  Westminster,  in  the  house  under  which 
you  passe  as  you  goe  out  of  the  churchyard  into  the  old  palace; 
where  he  dyed. 

He  lies  buryed  in  the  north  aisle  in  the  path  of  square  stone 
(the  rest  is  lozenge),  opposite  to  the  scutcheon  of  Robertus  de 
Ros,  with  this  inscription  only  on  him,  in  a  pavement  square,  of 
blew  marble,  about  14  inches  square, 

O   RARE   BENN   IOHNSON 

which  was  donne  at  the  chardge  of  Jack  Young  (afterwards 
knighted)  who,  walking  there  when  the  grave  was  covering,  gave 
the  fellow  eighteen  pence  to  cutt  it. 

His  motto  before  his  (bought)  bookes  was,  Tanquam  Explora- 
tor.  I  remember  'tis  in  Seneca's  Epistles. 

He  was  a  favourite  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  Egerton ,  as  appeares 
by  severall  verses  to  him.  In  one  he  begges  his  lordship  to  doe 
a  friend  of  his  a  favour. 

'Twas  an  ingeniose  remarque  of  my  lady  Hoskins,  that  B.  J. 
never  writes  of  love,  or  if  he  does,  does  it  not  naturally. 

He  killed  Mr.     .  .  .  Marlow,  the  poet,  on  Bunhill,  comeing 


356  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

from  the  Green-Curtain  play-house. — 'From  Sir  Edward  Shirburn. 
Ben  Johnson: — Ben  Jonson  had  50  li.  per  annum  for  ... 
yeares  together  to  keepe  off  Sir  W.  Wiseman  of  Essex  from  being 
sheriff.  At  last  king  James  prickt  him,  and  Ben  came  to  his 
majestic  and  told  him  he  "had  prickt  him  to  the  heart"  and  then 
explaynd  himselfe  (innuendo  Sir  W.  W.  being  prickt  sheriff)  and 
got  him  struck  off. 

Vide  his  Execration  against  Vulcan.  Vide  None-such-Charles. 
When  B.  J.  was  dyeing  king  Charles  sent  him  but  x  li.  Quaere  T. 
Shadwell  pro  notes  of  B.  J.  from  the  duke  of  Newcastle;  and  also 
quaere  Thomas  Henshawe  (as  also  de  saxis  in  Hibernia.  Quaere 
my  lord  Clifford  of  the  gentleman  that  cutt  the  grasse  under  Ben 
Jonson 's  feet,  of  whom  he  sayd  "ungratefull  man!  I  showed 
him  Juvenal." 

B.  Jonson;  one  eye  lower  then  t'  other  and  bigger.  He  tooke 
a  catalogue  from  Mr.  Lacy  of  the  Yorkshire  words — his  hint  to 
Tale  of  a  Tub  for  the  clownery. 

Ben  Johnson  had  one  eie  lower  than  t'other,  and  bigger,  like 
Clun,  the  player:  perhaps  he  begott  Clun.  He  tooke  a  catalogue 
from  Mr.  Lacy  (the  player)  of  the  Yorkshire  dialect.  Twas  his 
hint  for  clownery  to  his  comoedy  called  The  Tale  of  a  Tub.  This 
I  had  from  Mr.  Lacy. 

King  James  made  him  write  against  the  Puritans,  who  began 
to  be  troublesome  in  his  time. 

A  Grace  by  Ben  Johnson,  extempore,  before  King  James. 

Our  King  and  Queen,  the  Lord-God  blesse, 

The  Paltzgrave,  and  the  Lady  Besse, 

And  God  blesse  every  living  thing 

That  lives,  and  breath's,  and  loves  the  King. 

God  bless  the  Councell  of  Estate, 

And  Buckingham,  the  fortunate. 

God  blesse  them  all,  and  keepe  them  safe, 

And  God  blesse  me,  and  God  blesse  Raph. 
The  king  was  mighty  enquisitive  to  know  who  this  Raph  was. 
Ben  told  him  'twas  the  drawer  at  the  Swanne  tavernne,  by 
Charing-crosse,  who  drew  him  good  Canarie.     For  this  drollery 
his  majestic  gave  him  an  hundred  poundes. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  357 

This  account  I  received  from  Mr.  Isaac  Walton  (who  wrote  Dr. 
John  Donne's  &c.  Life},  Decemb.  2,  1680,  he  being  then  eighty- 
seaven  years  of  age.     This  is  his  owne  hand  writing. 
Ffor  yor  ffriend's  que.  this: 

I  only  knew  Ben  Johnson:  but  my  lord  of  Winton  knew  him 
very  well,  and  says  he  was  in.  the  6°,  that  is  the  upermost  fforme 
in  Westminster  scole.  At  which  time  his  father  dyed,  and  his 
mother  marryed  a  brickelayer,  who  made  him  (much  against  his 
will)  to  help  him  in  his  trade.  But  in  a  short  time,  his  scole 
maister,  Mr.  Camden,  got  him  a  better  imployment,  which  was 
to  atend  or  accompany  a  son  of  Sir  Walter  Rauleyes  in  his 
travills.  Within  a  shoit  time  after  their  returne,  they  parted 
(I  think  not  in  cole  bloud)  and  with  a  love  sutable  to  what  they 
had  in  their  travills  (not  to  be  comended) ;  and  then,  Ben  began 
to  set  up  for  hi  mselfe  in  the  trade  by  which  he  got  his  subsistance 
and  fame.  Of  which  I  nede  not  give  any  account.  He  got  in 
time  to  have  a  vioo  14.  a  yeare  from  the  king,  also  a  pention  from 
the  Cittie,  and  the  like  from  many  of  the  nobilitie,  and  some  of 
the  gentry,  wh  was  well  payd  for  love  or  fere  of  his  raling  in 
verse  or  prose,  or  boeth.  My  lord  of  Winton  told  me,  he  told 
him  he  was  (in  his  long  retyrement,  and  sicknes,  when  he  saw 
him,  which  was  often)  much  aflickted  that  hee  had  pro  fain 'd 
the  scripture,  in  his  playes;  and  lamented  it  with  horror;  "yetv 
that  at  that  time  of  his  long  retyrement,  his  pentions  (so  much 
as  came  yn)  was  given  to  a  woman  that  govern'd  him,  with 
whome  he  livd  and  dyed  nere  the  Abie  in  West  minster;  and 
that  nether  he  nor  she  tooke  much  care  for  next  weike,  and  wood 
be  sure  not  to  want  wine;  of  which  he  usually  tooke  too  much 
before,  he  went  to  bed,  if  not  oftner  and  soner.  My  lord  tells 
me,  he  knowes  not,  but  thinks  he  was  borne  in  Westminster* 
The  question  may  be  put  to  Mr.  Wood  very  easily  upon  what 
grownds  he  is  positive  as  to  his  being  borne  their?  he  is  a  friendly 
man  and  will  resolve  it.  So  much  for  brave  Ben.  You  will  not 
think  the  rest  so  tedyus,  as  I  doe  this.  .  .  . 


358  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

This  is  all  I  know  or  can  learne  for  yor  friend  [Anthony  a 
Wood] ;  which  I  wish  may  be  worth  the  time  and  treble  of  reading 
it.  I.  W. 

NoVer.  22,  80. 

*  *  *  * 

John  Lacy  (16 1681} . 

.  .  .  B.  Jonson  tooke  a  note  t)f  his  Yorkshire  words  and 
proverbes  for  his  Tale  of  a  Tub,  several  "Gad  kettlepinns!" 

{ii,  28.) 

*  *         *         * 

Sir  Walter  Ralegh  (1552-1618}. 

...  In  his  youthfull  time,  was  one  Charles  Chester,  that  often 
kept  company  with  his  acquaintance;  he  was  a  bold  impertenent 
fellowe,  and  they  could  never  be  at  quiet  for  him;  a  perpetuall 
talker,  and  made  a  noyse  like  a  drumme  in  a  roome.  So  one 
time  at  a  taverne  Sir  W.  R.  beates  him  and  scales  up  his  mouth 
(i.e.  his  upper  and  neather  beard)  with  hard  wax.  From  him 
Ben  Johnson  takes  his  Carlo  BufTono  (i.e.  " jester")  in  Every 
Man  out  of  his  Humour,  (ii,  184;  cf.  192.) 

*  *         *         * 
William  Shakespear  (1564-1616}. 

...  This  William  .  .  .  was  an  actor  at  one  of  the  play- 
ihouses,  and  did  act  exceedingly  well  (now  B.  Johnson  was  never 
£L  good  actor,  but  an  excellent  instructor).  .  .  .  Ben  Johnson 
;and  he  did  gather  humours  of  men  dayly  where  ever  they  came. 
..  .  .  He  was  wont  to  say  that  he  "never  blotted  out  a  line  in 
Jiis  life";  sayd  Ben:  Johnson,  "I  wish  he  had  blotted-out  a 
thousand."  .  .  .  Though,  as  Ben:  Johnson  sayes  of  him,  that  he 
had  but  little  Latine  and  lesse  Greek,  he  understood  Latine 
pretty  well,  for  he  had  been  in  his  younger  yeares  a  schoolmaster 
in  the  countrey.  (ii,  226.) 

*  *         *         * 
Thomas  Sutton    (1532-1611}. 

.  .  .  'Twas  from  him  that  B.  Johnson  tooke  his  hint  of  the  fox, 
and  by  Seigneur  Volpone  is  meant  Sutton.  (ii,  246.) 

[Brief  Lives,  ed.  A.  Clark,  1898;  the  volume  and  page  references  are  to 
this  edition.  For  passing  allusion  to  Jonson,  see  also  i,  231,  232; 
ii,  55,  217,  220,  239,  275.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  359 
Watson,  1670. 


An  Elegy  on  Sr  W  Davenant  &  his  Buriall 

amongst  the  Ancient  Poetes. 
First  in  the  broad  Elysian  streets 
Him  his  old  father  lohnson  greets; 
Next  him  his  Cousen  Shakespear  meets, 
And  his  friend  Sucklin  lends  him  sheets. 
[Addit.  MS.  Brit.  Mus.,  18220,  p.  58,  If.  33.] 

Anonymous,  1670. 

1670,  Thursday,  July  2ist. — A  Constitucion  of  John  Dryden, 
Master  of  Arts,  to  be  his  Majesties  poet  Laureat  and  historiog 
rapher- generall,  with  all  such  priviledges  as  Sir  Geoffry  Chaucer, 
Sir  John  Gower,  John  Leland,  esq.,  William  Camden,  esq., 
Benjamin  Johnson,  esq.,  James  Howell,  esq.,  or  Sir  William 
Davenant  had  or  enjoyed,  with  the  yearly  pencion  of  200  £  per 
annum  and  a  pipe  of  Canary  wine,  out  of  his  Majesties  cellars: 
Habend.  during  his  Majesties  pleasure. 

[The  MSS.  of  J.  Eliot  Hodgkin;  an  extract  reproduced  in  the  Fifteenth 
Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on  Historical  Manuscripts,  1896, 
part  ii,  p.  13.] 

Richard  Flecknoe,  1670. 

Of  the  difference  Betwixt  the  Ancient  and  Modern  Playes. 
If  any  one  the  difference  would  know, 
Betwixt  the  Ancient  Playes  and  Modern  now: 
In  Ancient  Times  none  ever  went  away, 
But  with  a  glowing  bosome  from  a  Play, 
With  somewhat  they  had  heard,  or  seen  so  fierd, 
They  seem  to  be  Celestially  inspir'd.  .  .  . 
So  hard  'tis  now  for  any  one  to  write 
With  Johnson's  fire,  or  Fletcher's  flame  &  spright: 
Much  less  inimitable  Shakspears  way, 
Promethian-like  to  animate  a  Play. 
[Epigrams,  1670,  p.  71.] 

Sir  Thomas  Culpeper,  1670. 

I  am  not  so  in  love  with  our  own  times  and  faces,  as  that  I 
fancy  in  our  selves  a  greater  excellency,  then  in  our  predecessors ; 


360  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

who  can  think  that  the. famous  Sr.  Phillip  Sydney,  or  the  incom 
parable  Lord  Bacon  have  been  out  done  in  their  several  kinds, 
or  Shakespear,  Beauniont,  and  Fletcher,  or  Ben  lohnson  in  theirs, 
by  any  of  our  present  writers. 

*         *         *         * 

It  was  excellently  observed  by  our  great  Ben.  lohnson,  that 
the  eldest  of  the  present,  and  the  newest  of  the  past  Language 
is  the  best,  which  gives  enough  of  our  respect  to  antiquity,  in 
point  of  Speech. 

[Essayes  or  Moral  Discourses  On  severall  Subjects,  licensed  1670,  printed 
1671,  pp.  109,  118.] 

Aphra  Behn,  1671. 

First  then  for  you  grave  Dons,  who  love  no  play 
But  what  is  regular,  Great  Johnson's  way. 
[Prologue  to  The  Amorous  Prince,  1671.] 

Thomas  Shad  well,  1671. 

Preface. 

Mr.  Johnson,  I  believe,  was  very  unjustly  taxed  for  personating 
particular  Men:  but  it  will  ever  be  the  Fate  of  them,  that  write 
the  Humours  of  the  Town,  especially  in  a  foolish  and  vicious 
Age.  Pardon  me  (Reader)  that  I  name  him  in  the  same  Page 
with  my  self;  who  pretend  to  nothing  more,  than  to  join  with 
all  Men  of  Sense  and  Learning  in  Admiration  of  him;  which,  I 
think,  I  do  not  out  of  a  true  Understanding  of  him ;  and  for  this 
I  would  not  value  my  self.  Yet  by  extolling  his  way  of  Writing 
I  cannot  but  insinuate  to  you,  that  I  can  Practise  it;  though  I 
would,  if  I  could,  a  thousand  times  sooner  than  any  Man's.  .  .  . 

Yet  (after  all  this)  I  cannot  think  it  Impudence  in  him,  or 
any  Man,  to  endeavour  to  imitate  Mr.  Johnson,  whom  he 
confesses  to  have  fewer  Failings,  than  all  the  English  Poets; 
which  implies  he  was  the  most  perfect,  and  best  Poet:  And  why 
should  not  we  endeavour  to  imitate  him?  because  we  cannot 
arrive  to  his  Excellence?  Tis  true,  we  cannot;  but  this  is  no 
more  an  Argument  than  for  a  Soldier  (who  considers  with  himself, 
he  cannot  be  so  great  a  one  as  Julius  Casar)  to  run  from  his 
Colours,  and  be  none;  or  to  speak  of  a  less  thing,  why  should 


TO  BEN  JONSON  361 

any  Man  study  Mathematicks  after  Archimedes'?  &c.  This 
Principle  would  be  an  Obstruction  to  the  progress  of  all  Learning 
and  Knowledge  in  the  World.  Men  of  all  Professions  ought 
certainly  to  follow  the  best  in  theirs;  and  let  not  Endeavours 
be  blamed,  if  they  go  as  far  as  they  can  in  the  right  Way,  though 
they  be  unsuccessful,  and  attain  not  their  ends.  If  Mr.  Johnson 
be  the  most  faultless  Poet,  I  am  so  far  from  thinking  it  Impudence 
to  endeavour  to  imitate  him,  that  it  would  rather  (in  my  Opinion) 
seem  Impudence  in  me  not  to  do  it. 

I  cannot  be  of  their  Opinion,  who  think  he  wanted  Wit:  I  am 
sure,  if  he  did,  he  was  so  far  from  being  the  most  faultless,  that 
he  was  the  most  faulty  Poet  of  his  Time.  But  it  may  be  an 
swered,  that  his  Writings  were  correct,  though  he  wanted  Fire; 
but  I  think  flat  and  dull  Things  are  as  incorrect,  and  shew  as 
little  Judgment  in  the  Author,  nay  less,  than  sprightly  and 
mettled  Nonsense  does.  But  I  think  he  had  more  true  Wit 
than  any  of  his  Contemporaries :  that  other  Men  had  sometimes 
Things,  that  seem'd  more  Fiery  than  his,  was  because  they  were 
placed  with  so  many  sordid  and  mean  Things  about  them,  that 
they  made  a  greater  Show.  .  .  . 

Nor  can  I  think,  to  the  writing  of  his  Humours  (which  were 
not  only  the  Follies,  but  the  Vices  and  Subtilties  of  Men)  that 
Wit  was  not  required,  but  Judgment;  where,  by  the  way,  they 
speak  as  if  Judgment  were  a  less  thing  than  Wit.  But  certainly 
it  was  meant  otherwise  by  Nature,  who  subjected  Wit  to  the 
Government  of  Judgment,  which  is  the  noblest  Faculty  of  the 
Mind.  Fancy  rough-draws,  but  Judgment  smooths  and  finishes: 
nay,  Judgment  does  not  comprehend  Wit;  for  no  Man  can  have 
that,  who  has  not  Wit.  In  Fancy  Mad-men  equal,  if  not  excell, 
all  others;  and  one  may  as  well  say,  that  one  of  those  Mad-men 
is  as  good  a  Man,  as  temperate  a  Wise-man,  as  that  one  of  the 
very  fanciful  Plays  (admir'd  most  by  Women)  can  be  so  good  a 
Play,  as  one  of  Johnson's  Correct  and  Well-govern'd  Comedies. 

The  Reason  given  by  some,  why  Johnson  needed  not  Wit  in 
writing  Humour,  is,  because  Humour  is  the  effect  of  Observa 
tion,  and  Observation  the  effect  of  Judgment;  but  Observation 
is  as  much  Necessary  in  all  other  Plays,  as  in  Comedies  of 
Humour.  . 


362  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  most  Excellent  Johnson  put  Wit  into  the  Mouths  of  the 
meanest  of  his  People,  and,  which  is  infinitely  Difficult,  made  it 
proper  for  'em.  And  I  once  heard  a  Person  of  the  greatest  Wit 
and  Judgment  of  the  Age  say,  That  Bartholomew- Fair,  (which 
consists  most  of  low  Persons)  is  one  of  the  wittiest  Plays  in  the 
World.  If  there  be  no  Wit  required,  in  the  rendring  Folly 
ridiculous,  or  Vice  odious,  we  must  accuse  Juvenal,  the  best 
Satyrist  and  wittiest  Man  of  all  the  Latin  Writers,  for  want  of 
it. 

I   should  not  say  so  much  of  Mr.   Johnson,    (whose  Merit 

sufficiently  justifies  him  to  all  Men  of  Sense)  but  that  I  think 

my  self  a  little  obliged  to  vindicate  the  Opinion   I   publickly 

declared  in  my  Epilogue  to  this  Play;  which  I  did  upon  mature 

Consideration,  and  with  a  full  Satisfaction  in  my  Judgment, 

and  not  out  of  a  bare  affected  vanity  of  being  thought  his  Admirer. 

*         *         *         * 

Epilogue. 

The  Mighty  Prince  of  Poets,  learned  BEN, 

Who  alone  div'd  into  the  Minds  of  Men, 

Saw  all  their  Wandrings,  all  their  Follies  knew, 

And  all  their  vain  fantastick  Passions  drew, 

In  Images  so  lively  and  so  true, 

That  there  each  Humourist  himself  might  view, 

Yet  only  lash'd  the  Errors  of  the  Times, 

And  ne'er  expos'd  the  Persons,  but  the  Crimes; 

And  never  car'd  for  private  Frowns,  when  he 

Did  but  chastise  publick  Iniquity: 

He  fear'd  no  Pimp,  no  Pick-pocket,  or  Drab; 

He  fear'd  no  Bravo,  nor  no  Ruffian's  Stab: 

Twas  he  alone  true  Humours  understood, 

And  with  great  Wit  and  Judgment  made  them  good. 

A  Humour  is  the  Byass,  of  the  Mind, 

By  which  with  Violence  'tis  one  way  inclin'd : 

It  makes  our  Actions  lean  on  one  side  still ; 

And  in  all  Changes  that  way  bends  the  Will. 

This- 

He  only  knew  and  represented  right. 

Thus  none,  but  mighty  Johnson,  e'er  could  write. 


TO   BEN  JONSON  363 

Expect  not  then,  since  that  most  flourishing  Age 
Of  BEN,  to  see  true  Humour  on  the  Stage. 
All,  that  have  since  been  writ,  if  they  be  scan'nd, 
Are  but  faint  Copies  from  that  Master's  Hand. 
Our  Poet  now,  amongst  those  petty  Things, 
Alas!  his  too  weak  trifling  Humours  brings. 
As  much  beneath  the  worst  in  Johnson's  Plays, 
As  his  great  Merit  is  above  our  Praise. 
For  could  he  imitate  that  great  Author  right, 
He  would  with  ease  all  Poets  else  out-write. 
But  to  out-go  all  other  Men,  would  be, 
O  Noble  BEN!  less  than  to  follow  thee. 
[The  Humorists,  1671.] 

Edward  Howard,  1671. 

Preface. 

Not  that  I  judge  our  unimi table  Johnson,  or  those  wonders  of 
Wit,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  were  without  their  failings.  .  .  . 

Doubtless  it  was  the  Wit  of  Poets  that  (above  all)  refin'd  their 
own  languages;  so  that  I  wonder  to  find  it  affirmed  that  Ben. 
Johnson  (who  had  such  a  soul  of  thought)  did  by  Translating 
beautifie  our  Tongue;  as  if  his  ingenuity  was  not  to  be  allowed 
the  glory  of  doing  far  more  by  its  single  strength.  I  should  be 
loth  to  wish  any  so  ill,  as  that  he  were  alive  to  answer  the  imputa 
tion;  however,  I  could  be  well,  content,  that  such  as  will  make 
him  their  president  in  Translating  from  others,  could  dispose  of 
it  so  well,  and  that  they  had  likewise  as  much  Wit,  and  Learning 
besides. 

Translating,  may  I  grant,  add  some  perfection  to  a  language, 
because  it  introduces  the  wit  of  others  into  its  own  words,  as  the 
French  have  of  late  done  well  in  theirs;  and  we  have  pretty  well 
requited  their  kindness  to  us,  in  rendring  so  much  of  theirs  in 
ours;  but  where  I  can  make  use  of  good  Originals,  I  shall  be  more 
sparing  of  my  esteem  of  Copies,  and  I  dare  averre,  that  the  Ingen 
uities  of  Johnson,  Beaumont,  and  Fletcher,  with  some  other  of  our 
former  Poets,  left  our  language  more  improved,  as  it  expressed 
their  thoughts,  then  if  the  best  of  Italian,  Spanish,  and  French 


364  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Wit,  had  been  Translated  by  the  greatest  of  Pens.  I  wish  it 
be  our  good  fortune  (for  the  benefit  of  future  times)  to  leave 
our  Tongue  as  much  inlarged  and  imbellished,  as  they  left  it 

to  us.  ... 

*         *         *         * 

The  First  Prologue. 

.  .  .  Then  is  heard  a  noise  with  Thunder  and  Lightning,  at 
which  time  Ben.  Johnson  personated  rises  from  below. 

Noak[es].  Ha,  Thunder  and  Lightning! — 1  hope  the  Madam 
Muses  are  not  displeas'd  with  us. 

Ang[el}.     But  what  apparition  is  this  moving  towards  us? 

Und[erhill].  As  I  am  an  Actor,  'tis  the  Genius  of  the  old 
Comick  Poet  Ben.  Johnson,  I  know  it  by  his  Picture  that  hangs 
up  in  the  Strand. 

Ang.  Fly,  fly,  Associates,  there's  no  being  on  the  Stage 
longer,  for  us  of  the  Farce  party.  [They  go  off  several  ways.} 

After  which  Ben.  Johnson  personated,  goes  up  to  the  Audience, 
and  speaks  a  Prologue. 

The  Second  Prologue  personated  like  Ben  Johnson 

rising  from  below. 

Behold  I  Ben  appear,  your  Poet  once, 
That  living  durst  a  vengeance  here  denounce 
On  all  the  Stages  Crimes,  and  Judges  dare 
To  make  my  Wit  their  sense,  or  else  their  fear ; 
Thus  have  I  left  th'Elizium  Shades  and  Groves, 
The  sacred  Mansions  of  the  Muses  Loves, 
Where  I  my  Bays  till  now  unwither'd  saw 
In  my  immortal  Plays,  that  here  gave  Law. 
But  now  provok'd,  the  Muses  quarrel  take, 
And  from  their  call  thus  my  appearance  make ; 
Did  I  instruct  you  (well  ne're  half  an  Age) 
To  understand  the  Grandeur  of  the  Stage, 
With  the  exactest  Rules  of  Comedy, 
Yet  now  y'are  pleased  with  Wits  low  frippery, 
Admitting  Farce,  the  trifling  mode  of  France, 
T'infect  you  with  fantastick  ignorance, 


TO   BEN  JONSON  365 

Forgetting  'twas  your  glory  to  behold, 

Plays  wisely  form'd,  such  as  I  made  of  old; 

But  by  my  Bays  I  swear,  if  you  persist, 

And  my  Judicious  Cautions  hence  resist, 

Tie  next  rise  with  the  Furies  from  below, 

That  scourge  vile  Poets  there  with  Scorpions  too, 

And  with  those  circl'd,  hiss  at  you,  and  them, 

Except  the  Scenes  just  Grandeur  you  redeem; 

Thus  for  your  Crimes,  but  what  this  day  will  be, 

The  fate  and  merit  of  the  Play  you'l  see; 

I  Scarce  divine,  nor  did  its  Author  raise 

Me  by  a  Poets  charm  to  give  him  praise. 

I  never  had  an  Ear  was  sooth'd  by  Rhime, 

Or  flatter'd  to  protect  a  Writers  crime. 

And  might  this  Authors  modesty  offend, 

Should  my  Encomium  here  his  Play  commend ; 

Who  now  prevents  it,  whilest  methinks  I  hear 

A  whisper  of  his  doubtings  in  my  ear; 

His  fears  are  many,  there's  such  Fate  in  Wit, 

That  Plays  from  fortune  more  then  merit  hit, 

Whose  Muse  would  blush  for  such  a  guilty  chance, 

Since  'twere  the  bounty  of  your  ignorance. 

But  though  your  crimes  in  judgment  he  forbears, 

Take  heed,  how  Ben  provok'd,  once  more  appears. 

Third  Prologue. 

You  see  what  little  Arts  w'are  fain  to  try, 
To  give  a  Prologue  some  variety; 
Wit  you  have  had,  perhaps,  in  many  new, 
Though  Farce,  and  Dance,  (your  much  lov'd  mirth)  in  few. 

But  why  Great  Johnson's  Ghost  should  thus  appear, 
As  if  to  hector  Wits,  and  Criticks  here, 
Who  (if  the  Devil  were  Poet)  would  not  fear? 

'Twas  a  bold  Fiction,  and  so  let  it  go, 

Yet  thus  far  'tis  instructive  unto  you; 

That  should  you  recollect  your  Judging  Crimes, 

The  Ribaldry  of  Plays  in  Prose,  and  Rhimes, 

Johnson  might  rise  indeed,  and  own  it  true. 


366  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

His  Plays  were  Laws  to  Wit,  and  Plot  well  told, 
But  such  you  slight,  (though  wise)  because  th'are  old; 
And  well  it  is  for  Writers,  since  that  way 
You  might  expect  from  all  who  write  a  Play. 

True  Comedy,  the  moral  Mirth  of  Plays, 
Lives  now  the  glory  of  dead  Poets  Bays, 
And  like  the  Phcenix  (though  confess'd  to  be) 
Produces  few  of  her  Posterity.   .   .  . 
[The  Womens  Conquest,  1671.  The  Preface  should  be  read  in  its  entirety.] 

• 
John  Dryden,  1671. 

I  had  thought,  reader,  in  this  preface,  to  have  written  some 
what  concerning  the  difference  betwixt  the  plays  of  oui  age, 
and  those  of  our  predecessors,  on  the  English  stage:  To  have 
shown  in  what  parts  of  dramatic  poesy  \ve  were  excelled  by  Ben 
Jonson,  I  mean,  humour,  and  contrivance  of  comedy;  and  in 
what  we  may  justly  claim  piecedence  of  Shakespeare  and  Fletch 
er,  namely  in  heroic  plays:  But  this  design  I  have  waved  on 
second  considerations;  at  least,  deferred  it  till  I  publish  The 
Conquest  of  Granada,  where  the  discourse  will  be  more  proper. 
I  had  also  prepared  to  treat  of  the  improvement  of  our  language 
since  Fletcher's  and  Jonson's  days,  and  consequently  of  our 
refining  the  courtship,  railleiy,  and  conversation  of  plays.  .  .  . 
As  I  pretend  not  that  I  can  write  humour,  so  none  of  them  can 
reasonably  pietend  to  have  written  it  as  they  ought.  Jonson 
was  the  only  man,  of  all  ages  and  nations,  who  has  perfoimed 
it  well;  ard  that  but  in  three  or  four  of  his  comedies.  .  .  . 

But  Ben  Jonson  is  to  be  admired  for  many  excellencies;  and 
can  be  taxed  with  fewer  failings  than  any  English  poet.  I  know 
I  have  been  accused  as  an  enemy  of  his  writings;  but  without 
any  other  reason,  than  that  I  do  not  admire  him  blindly,  and 
without  looking  into  his  imperfections.  For  why  should  there 
be  any  ipse  dixit  in  our  poetry,  any  more  than  there  is  in  our 
philosophy?  I  admire  and  applaud  him  where  I  ought:  Those, 
who  do  more,  do  but  value  themselves  in  their  admiration  of 
him;  and,  by  telling  you  the>  extol  Ben  Jonson's  way,  would 
insinuate  to  you  that  they  can  practise  it.  For  my  part,  I 


TO  BEN  JONSON  367 

• 

declare  that  I  want  judgment  to  imitate  him;  and  should  think 
it  a  great  impudence  in  myself  to  attempt  it.  To  make  men 
appear  pleasantly  ridiculous  on  the  stage,  was,  as  I  have  said, 
his  talent;  and  in  this  he  needed  not  the  acumen  of  wit  but 
that  of  judgment.  For  the  characters  and  representations  of 
folly  are  only  the  effects  of  observation;  and  obseivation  is  an 
effect  of  judgment.  Some  ingenious  men,  for  whom  I  have  a 
particular  esteem,  have  thought  I  have  much  injured  Ben  Jonson, 
when  I  have  not  allowed  his  wit  to  be  extraordinary:  But  they 
confound  the  notion  of  what  is  witty,  with  what  is  pleasant. 
That  Ben  Jonson's  plays  were  pleasant,  he  must  want  reason 
who  denies:  But  that  pleasantness  was  not  properly  wit,  or  the 
sharpness  of  conceit;  but  the  natural  imitation  of  folly  :  Which 
I  confess  to  be  excellent  in  its  kind,  but  not  to  be  of  that  kind 
which  they  pretend.  .  .  . 

I  think  there  is  no  folly  so  great  in  any  poet  of  our  age,  as  the 
superfluity  and  waste  of  wit  was  in  some  of  our  predecessors: 
particularly  we  may  say  of  Fletcher  and  of  Shakespeare,  what 
was  said  of  Ovid,  In  omni  ejus  ingenio,  facilius  quod  rejici,  quam 
quod  adjici  potest,  invenies:  The  contrary  of  which  was  true  in 
Virgil,  and  our  incomparable  Jonson.  .  .  . 

Ben  Jonson,  indeed,  has  designed  his  plots  himself;  but  no 
man  has  borrowed  so  much  from  the  ancients  as  he  has  done: 
and  he  did  well  in  it, 'for  he  has  thereby  beautified  our  language. 

[The  Preface  to  An  Evening's  Love,  or  the  Mock  Astrologer,  1671.  This 
interesting  Preface  is  full  of  allusions  to  Jonson  and  his  plays, 
but  it  is  too  long  to  be  cited  here  entire.] 

John,  Lord  Vaughan,  1671. 

On  Mr.  Dryderis  Play,  The  Conquest  of  Granada. 
There  will  be  praise  enough;   yet  not  so  much, 
As  if  the  world  had  never  any  such : 
Ben  Jonson,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Shakespeare,  are, 
As  well  as  you,  to  have  a  poet's  share. 
You,  who  write  after,  have,  besides,  this  curse, 
You  must  write  better,  or  you  else  write  worse. 
[Prefixed  to  John  Dryden's  The  Conquest  of  Granada,  Part  I,  entered 
in  the  Stationers'  Registers  February  1670-71,  printed  in  1672.] 


368  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

• 

John  Dryden,  1671. 

Of  Heroic  Plays. 

.  .  .  To  those  who  object  my  frequent  use  of  drums  and 
trumpets,  and  my  representations  of  battles,  I  answer,  I  intro 
duced  them  not  on  the  English  stage:  Shakespeare  used  them 
frequently;  and  though  Jonson  shows  no  battle  in  his  Catiline, 
yet  you  hear  from  behind  the  scenes  the  sounding  of  trumpets, 
and  the  shouts  of  fighting  armies. 

[Prefixed  to  The  Conquest  of  Grenada,  Part  I,  entered  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers  in  February,  1670-71,  printed  in  1672.] 

John  Dryden, 1671. 

Epilogue. 

They,  who  have  best  succeeded  on  the  stage, 

Have  still  conformed  their  genius  to  their  age. 

Thus  Jonson  did  mechanic  humour  show, 

When  men  were  dull,  and  conversation  low. 

Then  comedy  was  faultless,  but  'twas  coarse: 

Cobb's  tankard  was  a  jest,  and  Otter's  horse. 

And,  as  they  comedy,  their  love  was  mean; 

Except,  by  chance,  in  some  one  laboured  scene, 

Which  must  atone  for  an  ill-written  play, 

They  rose,  but  at  their  height  could  seldom  stay. 

Fame  then  was  cheap,  and  the  first  comer  sped; 

And  they  have  kept  it  since,  by  being  dead. 

But,  were  they  now  to  write,  when  critics  weigh 

Each  line,  and  every  word,  throughout  a  play, 

None  of  them,  no,  not  Jonson  in  his  height, 

Could  pass,  without  allowing  grains  for  weight. 

Think  it  not  envy,  that  these  truths  are  told ; 

Our  poet's  not  malicious,  though  he's  bold. 

'Tis  not  to  brand  them,  that  their  faults  are  shown, 

But  by  their  errors,  to  excuse  his  own.  .  .  . 

*         *         *         * 
Defence  of  the  Epilogue. 

...  To  begin  with  Language.  That  an  alteration  is  lately 
made  in  ours,  or  since  the  writers  of  the  last  age  (in  which  I 
comprehend  Shakespeare,  Fletcher,  and  Jonson),  is  manifest. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  369 

Any  man  who  reads  those  excellent  poets,  and  compares  their 
language  with  what  is  now  written,  will  see  it  almost  in  every 
line;  but  that  this  is  an  improvement  of  the  language,  or  an 
alteration  for  the  better,  will  not  so  easily  be  granted.  For 
many  are  of  a  contrary  opinion,  that  the  English  tongue  was 
then  in  the  height  of  its  perfection;  that  from  Jonson's  time  to 
ours  it  has  been  a  continual  declination.  .  .  . 

As  for  Ben  Jonson,  I  am  loath  to  name  him,  because  he  is  a 
most  judicious  writer;  yet  he  very  often  falls  into  these  errors: 
and  I  once  more  beg  the  reader's  pardon  for  accusing  him  of 
them.  Only  let  him  consider,  that  I  live  in  an  age  where  my 
least  faults  are  severely  censured;  and  that  I  have  no  way  left 
to  extenuate  my  failings,  but  by  showing  as  great  in  those 
whom  we  admire: 

C&dimus,  inque  vicem  prcebemus  crura  sagittis. 
I  cast  my  eyes  but  by  chance  on  Catiline;   and  in  the  three  or 
four  last  pages,  found  enough  to  conclude  that  Jonson  writ  not 

correctly. 

Let  the  long-hid  seeds 

Of  treason,  in  thee1  now  shoot  forth  in  deeds 
Ranker  than  horror. 

In  reading  some  bombast  speeches  of  Macbeth,  which  are  not 
to  be  understood,  he  used  to  say  that  it  was  horror;  and  I  am 
much  afraid  that  this  is  so.  ... 

But  I  am  willing  to  close  the  book,  partly  out  of  veneration 
to  the  author,  partly  out  of  weariness  to  pursue  an  argument 
which  is  so  fruitful  in  so  small  a  compass.  And  what  correctness, 
after  this,  can  be  expected  from  Shakespeare  or  from  Fletcher, 
who  wanted  that  learning  and  care  which  Jonson  had?  I  will, 
therefore,  spare  my  own  trouble  of  inquiring  into  their  faults.  .  .  . 

For  Ben  Jonson,  the  most  judicious  of  poets,  he  always  writ 
properly,  and  as  the  character  required;  and  I  will  not  contest 
farther  with  my  friends,  who  call  that  wit:  it  being  very  certain, 
that  even  folly  itself,  well  represented,  is  wit  in  a  larger  signifi 
cation;  and  that  there  is  fancy,  as  well  as  judgment,  in  it, 
though  not  so  much  or  noble:  because  all  poetry  being  imitation, 
that  of  folly  is  a  lower  exercise  of  fancy,  though  perhaps  as  dim- 


370  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

cult  as  the  other;  for  it  is  a  kind  of  looking  downward  in  the 
poet,  and  representing  that  part  of  mankind  which  is  below  him. 

In  these  low  characters  of  vice  and  folly,  lay  the  excellency  of 
that  inimitable  writer;  who,  when  at  any  time  he  aimed  at  wit 
in  the  stricter  sense,  that  is,  sharpness  of  conceit,  was  forced 
either  to  borrow  from  the  ancients,  as  to  my  knowledge  he  did 
very  much  from  Plautus;  or,  when  he  trusted  himself  alone, 
often  fell  into  meanness  of  expression.  Nay,  he  was  not  free 
from  the  lowest  and  most  grovelling  kind  of  wit,  which  we  call 
clenches,  of  which  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  is  infinitely  full; 
and,  which  is  worse,  the  wittiest  persons  in  the  drama  speak 
them.  His  other  comedies  are  not  exempt  from  them.  Will  you 
give  me  leave  to  name  some  few?  .  .  . 

But,  to  conclude  with  what  brevity  I  can,  I  will  only  add  this, 
in  defence  of  our  present  writers,  that,  if  they  reach  not  some 
excellencies  of  Ben  Jonson  (which  no  age,  I  am  confident,  ever 
shall),  yet,  at  least,  they  are  above  that  meanness  of  thought 
which  I  have  taxed,  and  which  is  frequent  in  him.  .  .  . 

And  this  will  be  denied  by  none,  but  some  few  old  fellows 
who  value  themselves  on  their  acquaintance  with  the  Black 
Friars;  who,  because  they  saw  their  plays,  would  pretend  a 
right  to  judge  ours.  The  memory  of  these  grave  gentlemen  is 
their  only  plea  for  being  wits.  They  can  tell  a  story  of  Ben 
Jonson,  and,  perhaps,  have  had  fancy  enough  to  give  a  supper 
in  the  Apollo,  that  they  might  be  called  his  sons.  And,  because 
they  were  drawn  in  to  be  laughed  at  in  those  times,  they  think 
themselves  now  sufficiently  entitled  to  laugh  at  ours.  .  .  . 

Let  us  therefore  admire  the  beauties  and  the  heights  of  Shake 
speare,  without  falling  after  him  into  a  carelessness,  and,  as  I 
may  call  it,  a  lethargy  of  thought,  for  whole  scenes  together. 
Let  us  imitate,  as  we  are  able,  the  quickness  and  easiness  of 
Fletcher,  without  proposing  him  as  a  pattern  to  us,  either  in  the 
redundancy  of  his  matter,  or  the  incorrectness  of  his  language. 
Let  us  admire  his  wit  and  sharpness  of  conceit;  but  let  us  at 
the  same  time  acknowledge,  that  it  was  seldom  so  fixed,  and 
made  proper  to  his  character,  as  that  the  same  things  might 
not  be  spoken  by  any  person  in  the  play.  Let  us  applaud  his 


TO  BEN  JONSON  371 

scenes  of  love;  but  let  us  confess,  that  he  understood  not  either 
greatness  or  perfect  honour  in  the  parts  of  any  of  his  women. 
In  fine,  let  us  allow,  that  he  had  so  much  fancy,  as  when  he 
pleased  he  could  write  wit;  but  that  he  wanted  so  much  judg 
ment,  as  seldom  to  have  written  humour,  or  described  a  pleasant 
folly.  Let  us  ascribe  to  Jonson,  the  height  a'nd  accuracy  of 
judgment  in  the  ordering  of  his  plots,  his  choice  of  characters, 
and  maintaining  what  he  had  chosen  to  the  end :  But  let  us  not 
think  him  a  perfect  pattern  of  imitation,  except  it  be  in  humour; 
for  love,  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  comedies  in  other  lan 
guages,  is  scarcely  mentioned  in  any  of  his  plays:  And  for  humour 
itself,  the  poets  of  this  age  will  be  more  wary  than  to  imitate  the 
meanness  of  his  persons.  Gentlemen  will  now  be  entertained 
with  the  follies  of  each  other;  and,  though  they  allow  Cobb 
and  Tib  to  speak  properly,  yet  they  are  not  much  pleased  with 
their  tankard,  or  with  their  rags:  And  surely  their  conversation 
can  be  no  jest  to  them  on  the  theatre,  when  they  would  avoid 
it  in  the  street. 

[Almanzor  and  Almahide,  or  the  Conquest  of  Granada.  The  Second  Part, 
entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  in  February,  1670-71,  printed 
in  1672.] 

John  Dryden,  before  1672. 

Prologue  to  Julius  Caesar. 
In  Country  Beauties  as  we  often  see, 
Something  that  takes  in  their  simplicity. 
Yet  while  they  charm,  they  know  not  they  are  fair,, 
And  take  without  their  spreading  of  the  snare; 
Such  Artless  beauty  lies  in  Shakespears  wit, 
Twas  well  in  spight  of  him  whate're  he  writ. 
His  excellencies  came,  and  were  not  sought, 
His  words  like  casual  Atoms  made  a  thought: 
Drew  up  themselves  in  rank  and  file,  and  writ, 
He  wondring  how  the  devil  it  were  such  wit. 
Thus  like  the  drunken  Tinker  in  his  Play, 
He  grew  a  Prince,  and  never  knew  which  way. 
He  did  not  know  what  Trope  or  Figure  meant, 
But  to  perswade  is  to  be  eloquent, 


372  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

So  in  this  Caesar  which  this  day  you  see, 
Tully  ne'r  spoke  as  he  makes  Anthony. 
Those  then  that  tax  his  Learning  are  too  blame, 
He  knew  the  thing,  but  did  not  know  the  Name : 
Great  Johnson  did  that  Ignorance  adore, 
And  though  he  envi'd  much,  admir'd  him  more. 
The  faultless  Johnson  equally  writ  well, 
Shakespear  made  faults;  but  then  did  more  excel. 
One  close  at  Guard  like  some  old  fencer  lay, 
Tother  more  open,  but  he  shew'd  more  play. 
In  imitation  Johnsons  wit  was  shown , 
Heaven  made  his  men,  but  Shakespear  made  his  own. 
Wise  Johnson's  talent  in  observing  lay, 
But  others'  follies  still  made  up  his  play. 
He  drew  the  like  in  each  elaborate  line, 
But  Shakespear  like  a  Master  did  design . 
Johnson  with  skill  dissected  humane  kind , 
And  show'd  their  faults,  that  they  their  faults  might  find; 
But  then  as  all  Anatomists  must  do, 
He  to  the  meanest  of  mankind  did  go. 
And  took  from  Gibbets  such  as  he  would  show. 
Both  are  so  great  that  he  must  boldly  dare, 
Who  both  of  'em  does  judge  and  both  compare. 
If  amongst  Poets  one  more  bold  there  be, 
The  man  that  dare  attempt  in  either  way,  is  he. 
[Covent  Garden  Drolery,  1672,  p.  9.] 

Title-page,  1672. 

The  Poems  of  Ben  Johnson  Junior.  Being  A  Miscelanie  of 
Seriousness,  Wit,  Mirth,  and  Mysterie.  In  Vulpone,  The  Dream, 
Inter  Bevoriale,  Songs,  &c.  Composed  by  W.  S.  Gent.  .  .  . 
London,  Printed  for  Tho.  Passenger  at  the  three  Bibles  about 
the  middle  of  London  Bridge.  1672. 

George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  1672. 
Bayes.     ...  I    despise   your   Johnson    and    Beaumont,    that 
borrow'd  all  they  writ  from  Nature ;    I  am  for  fetching  it  purely 
out  of  my  own  fancy,  I. 

[The  Rehearsal,  1672,  Act  II,  Scene  i.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  373 

Robert  Veel,  1672. 

To  Mr.  T.  D.  on  his  Ingenious  Songs  and  Poems. 
How  many  Best  of  Poets  have  we  known  ? 
And  yet  how  far  those  Best  have  been  out-done ! 
When  Chaucer  dy'd,  Men  of  that  Age  decreed 
A  Dismal  Fate  to  all  that  shou'd  succeed: 
Yet  when  Great  Ben,  and  Mighty  Shakespear  wrote, 
We  were  convinc'd  those  Elder  Times  did  dote. 
[New  Court- Songs  and  Poems,  1672.] 

Tavern  Token,  1672. 

Obverse:  BEN.  JOHNSONS.  HEAD.  IN;  in  the  field,  1672, 
very  bold.  Reverse:  SHOOE.  LANE.  1672;  in  the  field,  full 
face  bust  of  Johnson.  It  is  of  the  penny  size. 

[This  token  from  the  Ben  Jonson  Tavern  in  Shoe  Lane  is  described  in 
Notes  and  Queries,  6th  Series,  July  24,  1880,  p.  75.] 

Sir  C.  S.,  1672. 

Poets  and  Thieves  can  scarce  be  rooted  out; 
'Scape  ne'er  so  hardly,  they'll  have  th'other  Bout. 
Burnt  in  the  Hand,  the  Thieves  fall  to't  again; 
And  Poets  hist,  cry  They  did  so  to  Ben.  .  .  . 

[Prologue  to  Thomas  Shadwell's  Epsom-Wells,  acted  1672,  printed 
1673.  The  writer  was  probably  Sir  Charles  Sedley.] 

Anonymous,  1673. 

If  he  [Dryden]  tells  us  that  Johnson  writ  by  art,  Shakespeare 
by  nature;  that  Beaumont  had  judgment,  Fletcher  wit,  that 
Cowley  was  copious,  Denham  lofty,  Waller  smooth,  he  cannot  be 
thought  malitious,  since  he  admires  them,  but  lather  skilful  that 
he  knows  how  to  value  them. 

[A  Description  of  the  Academy  of  the  Athenian:  with  a  Discours  held 
there  in  Vindication  of  Mr.  Dryden1  s  Conquest  of  Grenada;  Against 
the  Author  of  the  Censure  of  Rota,  1673,  p.  32.] 

William  Arrowsmith,  1673. 

Pis[auro].  Come  Sir  you  are  a  judge,  what  opinion  have  you 
ot  the  last  new  Play?  .  .  . 


374  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Tut.  There  are  many  pretenders  but  you  see  how  few  succeed ; 
and  bating  two  or  three  of  this  nation  as  Tasso,  Ariosto  and 
Guarini,  that  write  indifferently  well,  the  rest  must  not  be  named 
for  Poesy:  we  have  some  three  or  four,  as  Fletcher,  lohnson, 
Shakespear,  Davenant,  that  have  scribbled  themselves  into  the 
bulk  of  follies  and  are  admired  too,  but  ne're  knew  the  laws  of 
heroick  or  dramatick  poesy,  nor  faith  to  write  true  English 
neither. 

[The  Reformation,  a  Comedy,  1673,  Act  IV,  Scene  i,  pp.  46-7.] 

Edward  Howard,  1673. 

The  witty  Fletcher,  and  Elaborate  Ben, 
And  Shakespeare  had  the  first  Dramatique  Pen : 
In  most  of  their  admired  Scenes  we  prove, 
Their  Busines  or  their  Passion  turns  to  Love. 

*  *         *         * 

Thus  Johnson's  Wit  we  still  admire, 
With  Beaumont,  Fletcher's  lasting  fire: 
And  mighty  Shakespear's  nimble  vein, 
Whose  haste  we  only  now  complain. 
His  Muse  first  post  was  fain  to  go, 

That  first  from  him  we  Plays  might  know. 

*  *         *         * 

Shakespear,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  and  Johnson,  must  be  nothing 
with  them  though  such  majestick  strength  of  Wit  and  Judgment 
is  due  to  their  Dramatique  pieces. 

*  *         *         * 

Ben  Johnson  said  of  Shakespear's  Works,  that  where  he  made 
one  blot,  he  wish'd  he  had  made  a  thousand. 

[Poems  and  Essays  by  a  Gentleman  of  Quality,  1673,  pp.  13,  66,  Miscel 
lanies,  pp.  24,  8 1.] 

Anonymous,  1673. 

Thus  was  he  [Dryden]  (forsooth)  taken  to  Task,  Postponed, 
and  there  Lash'd  on  both  sides  by  the  two,  too  unkind  Univer 
sities,  Oxford  first  taking  him  up,  while  his  Mother  Cambridge 
Chastised  him  severely  .  .  .  and  next  for  abusing  his  Grandsire 


TO  BEN  JONSON  375 

Shakespeare,  and  Father  Ben,  and  being  very  sawcy  with  others 
of  his  Elders. 

[Raillerie  a  La  Mode  Considered;    or  the  Supercilious  Detractor,  1673, 
P-  25.] 

Francis  Kirkman,  1673. 

The  most  part  of  these  Pieces  were  written  by  such  Penmen 
as  were  known  to  be  the  ablest  Artists  that  ever  this  Nation 
produced,  by  Name,  Shake-spear,  Fletcher,  Johnson,  Shirley,  and 
others;  and  these  Collections  are  the  very  Soul  of  their  writings, 
if  the  witty  part  thereof  may  be  so  termed :  And  the  other  small 
Pieces  composed  by  several  other  Authors  are  such  as  have  been 
of  great  fame  in  this  last  Age. 

[The  Wits  or  Sport  upon  Sport,  1673,  Preface,  sig.  A2.] 

John  Phillips,  1673. 

There  sits  Ben  Johnson  like  a  Tetrarch, 
With  Chaucer,  Carew,  Shakespear,  Petrarch, 
Fletcher  and  Beaumont,  and  Menander, 
Plautus  and  Terence.  ... 
[Maronides,  or  Virgil  Travesty,  1673,  p.  108.] 

Arthur  Tichborne,  1673. 

Tell  me  no  more  of  Laureated  Ben., 
Shakesphear,  and  Fletcher,  once  the  wiser  men. 
Their  Acts  ('tis  true)  were  Sublime!  yet  I  see 
They'r  all  Revisedly  compos'd  in  Thee. 
[Verses  before  Matthew  Stevenson's  Poems,  1673,  sig.  A4.] 

John  Dryden,  1673. 

...  I  will  be  no  more  mistaken  for  my  good  meaning:  I 
know  I  honour  Ben  Jonson  more  than  my  little  critics,  because, 
without  vanity  I  may  own,  I  understand  him  better.  ...  I 
have  not  wanted  friends,  even  among  strangers,  who  have 
defended  me  more  strongly,  than  my  contemptible  pedant  could 
attack'me.  For  the  other,  he  is  only  like  Fungoso  in  the  play, 


376  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

who  follows  the  fashion  at  a  distance,  and  adores  the  Fastidious 
Brisk  of  Oxford. 

[The  Dedication,  to  Sir  Charles  Sedley,  prefixed  to  The  Assignation, 
I673-]      - 

John  Dryden,  1673.    . 

Prologue  to  the  University  of  Oxford. 
What  Greece,  when  learning  flourished,  only  knew, 
Athenian  judges,  you  this  day  renew. 
Here,  too,  are  annual  rites  to  Pallas  done, 
And  here  poetic  prizes  lost  or  won. 
Methinks  I  see  you,  crowned  with  olives,  sit, 
And  strike  a  sacred  horror  from  the  pit. 
A  day  of  doom  is  this  of  your  decree, 
Where  even  the  best  are  but  by  mercy  free; 
A  day,  which  none  but  Jonson  durst  have  wished  to  see.  .  .  . 


Epilogue  to  the  University  oj  Oxford. 
Fletcher's  despised,  your  Jonson's  out  of  fashion, 
And  wit  the  only  drug  in  all  the  nation. 
In  this  low  ebb  our  wares  to  you  are  shown, 
By  you  whose  staple  authors'  worth  is  known, 
For  wit's  a  manufacture  of  your  own. 
When  you,  who  only  can,  their  scenes  have  praised, 
We'll  back,  and  boldly  say,  their  price  is  raised. 

[Spoken  by  Mr.  Hart  at  the  acting  of  The  Silent  Woman;  The  Works  of 
John  Dryden,  ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1885,  x,  379-84.] 

John  Dryden,  1674. 

Prologue  to  the  University  of  Oxford,  1674. 
With  joy  we  bring  what  our  dead  authors  writ, 
And  beg  from  you  the  value  of  their  wit : 
That  Shakespeare's,  Fletcher's,  and  great  Jonson's  claim, 
May  be  renewed  from  those  who  gave  them  fame. 
[In  The  Works  of  John  Dryden,  ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1885, 'x,  324.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  377 

John  Wright,  1674. 

Our  Modern  Dramatiques  present  us  with  greater  Idaea's 
both  of  Vice  and  Vertue:  Yet  Ben:  Johnson  thought  a  consider 
able  part  of  Seneca's  Thyestes  not  improper  for  the  English 
Stage  in  his  time,  when  he  took  most  of  Sylla's  Ghost  from 
hence,  and  so  well  approved  of  this  way  of  Introduction,  that 
he  served  himself  of  it  not  only  in  his  Tragedy  of  Cateline,.  but 
also  in  his  Devill's  an  Ass,  a  comedy,  where  he  makes  a  Pug  his 
Home  d' Intrigue. 

[Thyestes  a  Tragedy,  1674,  Dedication.] 

Thomas  Rymer,  1674. 

At  this  time  with  us  many  great  Wits  flourished,  but  Ben 
Johnson,  I  think,  had  all  the  Critical  learning  to  himself;  and 
till  of  late  years  England  was  as  free  from  Criticks  as  it  is  from 
Wolves,  that  a  harmless  well-meaning  Book  might  pass  without 
any  danger.  But  now  this  priviledge,  whatever  extraordinary 
Talent  it  requires,  is  usurped  by  the  most  ignorant;  and  they 
who  are  least  acquainted  with  the  game  are  aptest  to  bark  at 
every  thing  that  comes  in  their  way. 

[Preface  to  the  translation  of  Rapin's  Reflections  on  Aristotle's  Treatise 
of  Poesie,  1674.] 

Edmund  Wheeler,  about  1674. 
To  give  such  guests  that  welcome  which  is  due, 
Would  pose  a  Shakespeer,  and  a  Johnson  too. 

[Carmen  Laudatorium,  or  verses  on  the  praise  of  Mr.  Henry  Boxe  founder 
of  Witney  Schoole  in  Oxfordshire  (by  the  scholars  of  Witney  schoole). 
Sloane  MS.  1458,  p.  14.] 

Samuel  Speed,  1675. 

On  which  the  Duke,  to  shun  a  scorching  doom, 

Perambulated  to  Ben  Johnson's  Tomb  [i.e.  Westminster  Abbey], 

Where  Shakespear,  Spencer,  Camden,  and  the  rest, 

Once  rising  Suns,  are  now  set  in  the  West : 

But  still  their  lustres  do  so  brightly  shine, 

That  they  invite  our  Worthies  there  to  dine, 

Where  their  moist  Marbles  seem  for  grief  to  weep, 

That  they,  but  Stone,  should  sacred  Relicks  keep : 


378  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  some  have  fancied  that  they've  heard  them  sing, 

Within  this  place  is  Aganippe's  Spring. 

There  our  ingenious  Train  have  thought  it  fit 

To  change  their  Diet,  and  to  dine  on  Wit. 

First  with  a  free  consent  they  all  combine 

To  pay  their  visits  unto  Cataline, 

By  whom  a  Damsel  stil'd  The  Silent  Woman, 

Stands  in  her  rich  attire,  the  like  by  no  Man 

Was  ever  yet  beheld ;  and  'tis  her  due 

To  stand  near  him,  b'ing  fair,  and  silent  too: 

For  if  some  Ladies  stood  but  in  her  stead, 

Their  Clappers  would  go  nigh  to  wake  the  dead. 

Hard  by  this  famous  Dame,  with  well-grown  Locks, 

Behold  an  ancient  well-experienc'd  Fox, 

Plac'd  as  a  grave  adviser,  who  with  care 

Cryes  out,  0  rare  Ben  Johnson  lieth  there. 

Next  day  His  Grace,  and  all  his  Guests  so  trim, 

Do  Shakespear  find,  and  then  they  feast  on  him. 

For  two  such  Dishes  at  one  single  meal, 

Would  like  two  Thieves  into  the  Senses  steal ; 

And  such  a  Surfeit  cause,  that  by  their  pain, 

They'd  judg'd  unsafe  to  feed  on  Wit  again. 

[The  Legend  of  the  Thrice-Honorable,  Ancient,  and  Renowned  Prince, 
His  Grace  Humphrey,  Duke  of  S.  Pauls  Cathedral  Walk;  in  Frag- 
menta  Carceris,  1675,  Sig.  F4  recto  and  verso.  In  the  lines  that 
follow  Speed  mentions  Spenser,  Chaucer,  Drayton,  Camden,  and 
others.] 

Edward  Phillips,  1675. 

Benjamin  Johnson,  the  most  learned,  judicious  and  correct, 
generally  so  accounted,  of  our  English  Comedians,  and  the  more 
to  be  admired  for  being  so,  for  that  neither  the  height  of  natural 
parts,  for  he  was  no  Shakespear,  nor  the  cost  of  Extraordinary 
Education;  for  he  is  reported  but  a  Bricklayers  Son,  but  his 
own  proper  Industry  and  Addiction  to  Books  advanct  him  to 
this  perfection:  In  three  of  his  Comedies,  namely  the  Fox, 
Alchymist  and  Silent  Woman,  he  may  be  compared,  in  the 
Judgment  of  Learned  Men,  for  Decorum,  Language,  and  well 


TO  BEN  JONSON  379 

Humouring  of  the  Parts,  as  well  with  the  chief  of  the  Ancient. 
Greec  and  Latin  Comedians  as  the  prime  of  Modern  Italians, 
who  have  been  judg'd  the  best  of  Europe  for  a  happy  Vein  in 
Comedies,  nor  is  his  Bartholmew-Fair  much  short  of  them;  as 
for  his  other  Comedies  Cinthia's  Revells,  Poetaster,  and  the  rest, 
let  the  name  of  Ben  Johnson  protect  them  against  whoever 
shall  think  fit  to  be  severe  in  censure  against  them:  The  Truth 
is,  his  Tragedies  Sejanus  and  Catiline  seem  to  have  in  them 
more  of  an  artificial  and  inflate  than  of  a  pathetical  and  naturally 
Tragic  height:  In  the  rest  of  his  Poetry,  for  he  is  not  wholly 
Dramatic,  as  his  Underwoods,  Epigrams,  &c.  he  is  sometimes 
bold  and  strenuous,  sometimes  Magisterial,  sometimes  Lepid  and 
full  enough  of  conceit,  and  sometimes  a  Man  as  other  Men  are. 

*  *         *         * 

John  Fletcher,  one  of  the  happy  Triumvirat  (the  other  two 
being  Johnson  and  Shakespear}  of  the  Chief  Dramatic  Poets  of 
our  Nation,  in  the  last  foregoing  Age,  among  whom  there  might 
be  said  to  be  a  symmetry  of  perfection,  while  each  excelled  in 
his  peculiar  way:  Ben.  Johnson  in  his  elaborate  pains  and 
knowledge  of  Authors,  Shakespear  in  his  pure  vein  of  wit,  and 
natural  Poetic  heighth;  Fletcher  in  a  courtly  Elegance,  and 
gentle  familiarity  of  style,  and  withal  a  wit  and  invention  so 
overflowing,  that  the  luxuriant  branches  thereof  were  frequently 
thought  convenient  to  be  lopt  off  by  his  almost  inseperable 
companion  Francis  Beaumont. 

*  *         *         * 

Richard  Brome,  a  Servant  to  Ben.  Johnson;  a  Servant  suitable 
to  such  a  Master,  and  who  what  with  his  faithful  service  and  the 
sympathy  of  his  Genius,  was  thought  worthy  his  particular 
commendation  in  Verse;  whatever  Instructions  he  might  have 
from  his  Master  Johnson,  he  certainly  by  his  own  natural  parts 
improved  in  a  great  heighth,  and  at  last  became  not  many 
parasangues  inferior  to  him  in  fame  by  divers  noted  Comedies. 

*  *         *         * 

Thomas  Decker,  a  High-flier  in  wit,  even  against  Ben.  Johnson 
himself  in  his  Comedy  call'd  The  Untrussing  of  the  humorous 
Poet;  besides  which  he  wrote  many  others. 

[Theatrum  Poetarum,  1675,  pp.  19,  108,  157,  175-1 


380  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1675. 

.  .  .  And  I  doubt  not  but  the  Candid  Reader  will  forgive  the 
Faults,  when  he  considers  that  the  great  Design  was  to  entertain 
the  Town  with  variety  of  Musick,  curious  Dancing,  splendid 
Scenes  and  Machines;  and  that  I  do  not,  nor  ever  did  intend  to 
value  my  self  upon  the  writing  of  this  Play.  For  I  had  rather 
be  Author  of  one  Scene  of  Comedy,  like  some  of  Ben.  Johnson's, 
than  of  all  the  best  Plays  of  this  kind,  that  have  been,  or  ever 
shall  be  written. 

[Preface  to  Psyche,  1675.] 

Sir  Francis  Fane,  1675. 

Yet  these  are  they,  who  durst  expose  the  Age 
Of  the  great  Wonder  of  our  English  Stage. 
Whom  Nature  seem'd  to  form  for  your  delight, 
And  bid  him  speak,  as  she  bid  Shakespeare  write. 
Those  Blades  indeed  are  Cripples  in  their  Art 
Mimmick  his  Foot,  but  not  his  speaking  part. 
Let  them  the  Traytor  or  Volpone  try, 
Could  they  - 

Rage  like  Cethegus,  or  like  Cassius  die, 
They  ne'er  had  sent  to  Paris  for  such  Fancies, 
As  Monster's  heads,  and  Merry  Andrew's  Dances. 
[Epilogue  to  Love  in  the  Dark,  1675.] 

Charles  Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset,  1675. 

Epilogue  on  the  Revival  of  Every  Man  in  his  Humour. 
Entreaty  shall  not  serve,  nor  violence, 
To  make  me  speak  in  such  a  play's  defence; 
A  play,  where  Wit  and  Humour  do  agree 
To  break  all  practis'd  laws  of  Comedy. 
The  scene  (what  more  absurd !)  in  England  lies, 
No  gods  descend,  nor  dancing  devils  rise; 
No  captive  prince  from  unknown  country  brought, 
No  battle,  nay,  there's  scarce  a  duel  fought: 
And  something  yet  more  sharply  might  be  said, 
But  I  consider  the  poor  author's  dead : 


TO  BEN  JONSON  381 

Let  that  be  his  excuse.     Now  for  our  own : 

Why,  faith,  in  my  opinion,  we  need  none. 

The  parts  were  fitted  well ;   but  some  will  say, 

"Pox  on  them,  rogues,  what  made  them  choose  this  play?  " 

I  do  not  doubt  but  you  will  credit  me, 

It  was  not  choice  but  mere  necessity. 

To  all  our  writing  friends  in  town  we  sent, 

But  not  a  wit  durst  venture  out  in  Lent: 

Have  patience  but  till  Easter- term,  and  then 

You  shall  have  jigg  and  hobby-horse  again. 


For  diverse  weighty  reasons  'twas  thought  fit 
Unruly  Sense  should  still  to  Rhyme  submit: 
This,  the  most  wholesome  law  we  ever  made, 
So  strictly  in  this  epilogue  obey'd, 
Sure  no  man  here  will  ever  dare  to  break — 

[Enter  Ghost  of  Jonson,  interrupting:] 
Hold,  and  give  way!   for  I  myself  will  speak. 
Can  you  encourage  so  much  insolence, 
And  add  new  faults  still  to  the  great  offence, 
Your  ancestors  so  rashly  did  commit 
Against  the  mighty  powers  of  Art  and  Wit ; 
When  they  condemn'd  those  noble  works  of  mine, 
Sejanus,  and  my  best-lov'd  Catiline? 
Repent,  or  on  your  guilty  heads  shall  fall 
The  curse  of  many  a  rhyming  pastoral. 
The  three  bold  Beauchamps  shall  revive  again, 
And  with  the  London  'prentice  conquer  Spain. 
All  the  dull  follies  of  the  former  age 
Shall  find  applause  on  this  corrupted  stage ; 
But  if  you  pay  the  great  arrears  of  praise 
So  long  since  due  to  my  much-injur'd  plays, 
From  all  past  crimes  I  first  will  set  you  free, 
And  then  inspire  some  one  to  write  like  me. 
[Poems  upon  Several  Occasions,  1675,  p.  29.] 


382  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Anonymous,  about  1676. 

Ben  Johnson,  traviling  from  London  to  Oxford  upon  a  Valen 
tine's  day,  meets  an  Highwayman. 

Ben  Johnson.     Flee  hence,  or  by  thy  Coat  of  steele 

I'le  make  thy  heart  my  brazen  bullet  feele, 
And  send  that  thrice  as  theevish  soule  of  thine 
To  Hell  to  be  the  Devell's  valentine. 

Reply  by  ye  Hman. 
Robber.     Art  thou  great  Ben,  or  ye  revived  ghost 

Of  famous  Shakespeare,  or  some  drunken  host 

That  being  tipsy  wth  thy  muddy  beer 

Dost  think  thy  rhyme  shall  dawnt  my  soule  wth  feare. 

Know  this,  base  slave,  that  I  am  one  of  those 
Can  take  a  purse  as  well  in  verse  as  proes, 
And  wn  thou  art  dead  w right  this  upon  thy  herse 
Here  ly's  a  Poet  y*  was  robb'd  in  verse. 

[Common-place  book  in  the  Diocesan  Registry  at  Worcester,  folio 
73  b.  The  manuscript  bears  the  name  of  John  Pryce,  Chancellor 
of  the  Diocese  from  1696  to  1705,  and  the  date  1676.  The  verses 
appear  also  in  Musarum  Delicice,  1655;  see  the  entry  "Sir  John 
Mennis  and  Dr.  James  Smith,  1655."] 

James  Duport,  1676. 

In  Benjaminum  Jonsonum,  Poetam  Laureatum,  & 

Dramaticorum  sui  Seculi  facile  Principem. 
Jonsone,  Angliacae  decus  immortale  Camaenae, 
Magne  Pater  Vatum,  Aoniae  Coryphaee  catervae, 
Benjamine,  (tibi  nee  vanum  nominis  omen) 
Cui  tarn  dextera  Pallas  adest,  tarn  dexter  Apollo; 
Laurigeros  egit  quoties  tua  Musa  triumphos! 
Laudibus  en  quantis,  quanto  evehit  Anglia  plausu 
Jonsonum,  pleni  moderantem  frcena  theatri! 
Per  te  Scena  loqui  didicit:   tibi  Candida  vena, 
Et  jocus  innocuus;  nee  quern  tua  fabula  mordet 
Dente  Theonino,  sed  pravis  aspera  tantum 
Moribus,  insanum  multo  sale  defricat  sevum. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  383 

Nee  Fescennino  ludit  tua  carmine  Musa; 
Nee  petulans  aures  amat  incestare  theatri, 
Aut  f oedare  oculos  obsccenis  improba  nugis : 
Sunt  tibi  tarn  castae  Veneres,  plenaeque  pudoris. 
Scenam  nulla  tuam  perfricta  fronte  puella 
Intrat,  nee  quenquam  tenerae  capit  illice  vocis, 
Nee  spectatorem  patranti  frangit  ocello. 
Dramate  tu  recto,  tu  linguae  idiomate  puro, 
Exornas  soccosque  leves,  grandesque  cothurnos. 
Si  Lyricus,  tu  jam  Flaccus;  si  Comicus,  alter 
Plautus  es  ingenio,  tersive  Terentius  oris 
Anglicus,  aut,  Grsecos  si  forte  imitere,  Menander, 
Cujus  versu  usus,  ceu  sacro  Emblemate,  Paulus: 
Sin  Tragicus,  magni  jam  praeceptore  Neronis 
Altius  eloqueris,  Seneca  &  praedivite  major, 
(Ingenii  at  tantum  dives  tu  divite  vena,) 
Grandius  ore  tonas,  verborum  &  fulmina  vibras. 
Tu  captatores,  locupleti  hamata,  senique, 
Munera  mittentes,  Vulpino  decipis  astu 
Callidus  incantos,  &  fraudem  fraude  retexis : 
Atque  haeredipetas  corvos  deludis  hiantes, 
Vana  spe  lactans,  cera  nee  scribis  in  ima. 
Per  te  nee  leno  aut  meretrix  impune  per  urbem 
Grassatur,  stolidae  &  tendit  sua  retia  pubi. 
Nee  moechus,  nee  fur,  incastigatus  oberrat, 
Illaesusve,  tuae  prudenti  verbere  scenae. 
Sic  vitium  omne  vafer  tuus  ipse  ut  Horatius  olim, 
Tangis,  &  admissus  circum  prczcordia  ludis. 
Per  te  audax  Catilina,  nefas  horrendus  Alastor 
Dum  struit  infandum,  caedesque  &  funera  passim 
Molitur  Romae,  facundi  Consulis  ore 
Ingenioque  perit;   patriae  &  dum  perfidus  enses 
Intentat  jugulo,  franguntur  colla  Cethegi; 
Quicquid  Sylla  minax,  ipsis  e  faucibus  Orci, 
Et  Fortunati  demurmuret  umbra  tyranni : 
Nempe  faces  flammasque  extinguit  flumine  lactis 
Tullius,  Angliaco  melius  sic  ore  locutus. 


384  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Culmine  tu  rapiens  magnum  devolvis  ab  alto 
Sejanum;   ille  potens  populum,  pavid  unique  senatum 
Rexerat  imperio  nuper,  dum  solus  habenas 
Tractaret  Romse,  nutu  &  tremefecerat  orbem, 
Casare  confisus;   nunc  verso  cardine  rerum 
Mole  sua  miser  ipse  cadens,  &  pondere  pressus, 
Concutit  attonitum  lapsu  graviore  theatrum, 
Ingentemque  trahit  turba  plaudente  ruinam. 
Sic  nullum  exemplo  crimen  tu  linquis  inultum, 
Sive  &  avarities,  &  amor  vesanus  habendi, 
Sive  sit  ambitio,  &  dominandi  caeca  libido. 
Crimina  sic  hominum  versu  tortore  flagellas, 
Et  vitia  exponis  toti  ludibria  plebi ; 
Protinus  ilia  tuo  sordent  explosa  theatre, 
Dramaque  virtutis  schola  fit,  praelectio  scena, 
Histrio  philosophus,  morum  vel  denique  censor, 
Et  ludi,  Jonsone,  tui  sic  seria  ducunt. 
Ergo  tua  effigies,  nostris  spectanda  plateis, 
(Quam  melius  toti  ostendit  tua  Pagina  mundo) 
Non  hominis,  sed  viva  Poesios  extat  imago; 
Benjamini  icon,  Capitisque  insigne  Poetae; 
Nomen  &  ingenii,  Jonsoni  nomen  habetur. 
[MuscB  Subseciva,  1676,  pp.  8-9.] 

Anonymous,  1676. 

When  our  Players  were  come  together  in  a  chamber,  most  of 
the  vagrant  Town-Butterflies  flock'd  into  their  presence,  amongst 
which  some  were  unsatisfied  at  their  cold  reception.  They  all 
began  to  discourse  of  Plaies,  Poetry  and  renowned  Authors  of 
Romances:  Never  was  more  noise  made  in  any  Chamber,  unless 
at  a  Quarrel..  And  above  all  the  rest  the  Poet,  with  a  ring  of 
admirers  about  him  of  the  chiefest  Wits  of  the  Town,  was  tearing 
his  Throat  with  telling  them  he  had  seen  Shakespear,  B.  Johnson, 
Fletcher,  Corneille;  had  drunk  many  a  Quart  with  Saint  Amant, 
Davenant,  Shirley,  and  Beys;  and  lost  good  Friends  by  the  death 
of  Rotrou,  Denham  and  Cowly. 

[Scarron's  Comical  Romance:  Or,  a  Facetious  History  of  a  Company  of 
Strowling  Stage-Players,  1676,  p.  17.  In  the  French  original  no 
mention  of  the  English  writers  is  made.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  385 

Thomas  Shad  well,  1676. 

Epistle  Dedicatory. 

.  .  .  But  the  same  People,  to  my  great  Comfort,  damn  all 
Mr.  Johnson's  Plays,  who  was  incomparably  the  best  Dramatick 
Poet  that  ever  was,  or,  I  believe,  ever  will  be;  and  I  had  rather 
be  Author  of  one  Scene  in  his  best  Comedies,  than  of  any  Play 
this  Age  has  produc'd. 


Prologue. 

For  Wit,  like  China,  should  long  buried  lie, 
Before  it  ripens  to  good  Comedy; 
A  thing  we  ne'er  have  seen  since  Johnson's  Days: 
And  but  a  few  of  his  were  perfect  Plays. 
Now  Drudges  of  the  Stage  must  oft  appear, 
They  must  be  bound  to  scribble  twice  a  Year. 
[The  Virtuoso,  1676.] 

William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  1676. 

A  great  Noyse  within,  then  one  enters  presently,  and  says  this: 

Oh  Gentlemen,  there  is  such  a  Civill  Warr  amongst  us  within, 

the  horribles t  mistake  that  ever  was,  in  the  World.     Wee  have 

spoken  a  wronge  Prologue,  never  such  a  Stage  Error,  not  in  all 

the  raigne  of  Shakspeare,  Jonson,  or  of  Fletcher. 

[Prologue  to  The  Humorous  Lovers,  Harl.  MS.  7367,  p.  3.] 

William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  1677. 

Codsh[ead].     Good  Sir,  try  some  English  Poets,  as  Shakespear. 

Doct[or].  You  had  as  good  give  him  preserv'd  Apricocks,  he 
has  too  much  Wit  for  him,  and  then  Fletcher  and  Beaumont  have 
so  much  of  the  Spanish  Perfume  of  Romances  and  Novels.  .  .  . 

The  last  Remedy,  like  Pigeons  to  the  soles  of  the  feet,  must  be 
to  apply  my  dear  Friend  Mr.  Johnson's  Works,  but  they  must  be 
apply 'd  to  his  head. 

Codsh.  Oh,  have  a  care,  Doctor,  he  hates  Ben.  Johnson,  he 
has  an  Antipathy"  to  him. 

Cramb[o].     Oh,  I  hate  Johnson,  oh  oh,  dull  dull,  oh  oh,  no  Wit. 

26 


386  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Doct.  'Tis  you  are  dull  .  .  .  dull!  he  was  the  Honour  of  his 
Nation,  and  the  Poet  of  Poets. 

[The  Triumphant  Widow,  1677,  pp.  60-61.] 

Sir  Carr  Scrope,  about  1677. 

When  Shakespear,  Johnson,  Fletcher,  rul'd  the  Stage, 
They  took  so  bold  a  Freedom  with  the  Age, 
That  there  were  scarce  a  Knave,  or  Fool,  in  Town 
Of  any  Note,  but  had  his  Picture  shown. 

[In  Defence  of  Satyr,  A  Poem  in  Imitation  of  Horace,  lib.  I.  sat.  4.  This 
work  is  mentioned  by  Anthony  a  Wood;  and  the  Earl  of  Rochester, 
in  An  Allusion  to  the  Tenth  Satyr  of  the  First  Book  of  Horace, 
Poems  on  several  occasions,  1685,  p.  39,  quotes  the  above  opening 
lines.] 

John  Wilmot,  Earl  of  Rochester,  1677-79. 

A  jeast  in  scorn  points  out  and  hits  the  thing 
More  home  than  the  Morosest  Satyrs  sting. 
Shake- spear  and  Johnson  did  herein  excell, 
And  might  in  this  be  imitated  well. 

*         *         *         * 

But  does  not  Dryden  find  ev'n  Johnson  dull? 
Fletcher  and  Beaumont  uncorrect,  and  full 
Of  lewd  Lines,  as  he  calls  'em?     Shake-spear' s  stile 
Stiff  and  affected ;   to  his  own  the  while 
Allowing  all  the  justness  that  his  Pride 
So  arrogantly  had  to  these  deny'd? 

[Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  1680;  from  second  ed.  of  1685,  as  reprinted 
in  J.  E.  Spingarn's  Critical  Essays  of  the  Seventeenth  Century,  1908, 
ii,  283-84.] 

Thomas  Rymer,  1678. 

I  provided  me  some  of  those  Master-pieces  of  Wit,  so  renown'd 
every-where  and  so  edifying  to  the  Stage, — I  mean  the  choicest 
and  most  applauded  English  Tragedies  of  this  last  age,  as  Rollo, 
A  King  and  no  King,  the  Maids  Tragedy  by  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  Othello  and  Julius  Caesar  by  Shakespear,  and  Catiline 
by  Worthy  Ben. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  387 

Let  me  only  anticipate  a  little  in  behalf  of  the  Catiline,  and 
now  tell  my  thoughts,  that  though  the  contrivance  and  oeconomy 
is  faulty  enough,  yet  we  there  find  (besides  what  is  borrow'd 
from  others)  more  of  Poetry  and  of  good  thought,  more  of 
Nature  and  of  Tragedy,  then  peradventure  can  be  scrap't 
together  from  all  those  other  Plays. 

Nor  can  I  be  displeas'd  with  honest  Ben,  when  he  rather 
chooses  to  borrow  a  Melon  of  his  Neighbour  than  to  treat  us 
with  a  Pumpion  of  his  own  growth. 

[The  Tragedies  of  the  Last  Age  Consider' d  and  Examined  by  the  Practice 
of  the  Ancients  and  by  the  Common  Sense  of  all  Ages,  1678;  in 
Critical  Essays  of  the  Seventeenth  Century,  ed.  J.  E.  Spingarn,  1908, 
ii,  182,  206.] 

Thomas  Tenison,  1678. 

The  Latine  translation  of  them  [Bacon's  Essays]  was  a  work 
performed  by  divers  hands ;  by  those  of  Dr.  Racket  (late  Bishop 
of  Lichfield),  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson  (the  learned  and  judicious 
Poet),  and  some  others,  whose  names  I  once  heard  from  Dr. 
Rawley,  [Bacon's  chaplain]  but  I  cannot  now  recal  them. 

[Baconiana,  1678;  cited  in  Notes  and  Queries,  roth  Series,  February  4, 
1905,  p.  94.] 

John  Oldham,  1678. 

Ode  Upon  the  Works  of  Ben  Johnson. 
Written  in  1678. 

I. 

Great  Thou !   whom  'tis  a  Crime  almost  to  dare  to  praise, 
Whose  firm  established,  and  unshaken  Glories  stand, 
And  proudly  their  own  Fame  command, 
Above  our  pow'r  to  lessen  or  to  raise, 

And  all,  but  the  few  Heirs  of  thy  brave  Genius,  and  thy  Bays; 
Hail  mighty  Founder  of  our  Stage!   For  so  I  dare 
Entitle  thee,  nor  any  modern  Censures  fear, 
Nor  care  what  thy  unjust  Detractors  say; 
They'll  say  perhaps,  that  others  did  Materials  bring, 
That  others  did  the  first  Foundations  lay. 
And  glorious  'twas  (we  grant)  but  to  begin: 


388  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

But  thou  alone  could'st  finish  the  design, 

All  the  fair  Model,  and  the  Workmanship  was  thine: 

Some  bold  Advent'rers  might  have  been  before, 

Who  durst  the  unknown  world  explore ; 

By  them  it  was  survey'd  at  distant  view, 

And  here  and  there  a  Cape,  and  Line  they  drew, 

Which  only  serv'd  as  hints,  and  marks  to  thee, 

Who  wast  reserv'd  to  make  the  full  discovery : 

Art's  Compass  to  thy  painful  search  we  owe, 

Whereby  thou  went'st  so  far,  and  we  may  after  go, 

By  that  we  may  Wit's  vast,  and  trackless  Ocean  try, 

Content  no  longer,  as  before, 

Dully  to  coast  along  the  shore, 

But  steer  a  course  more  unconfin'd,  and  free, 

Beyond  the  narrow  bounds,  that  pent  Antiquity. 

II. 

Never  till  thee  the  Theater  possest 
A  Prince  with  equal  Pow'r,  and  Greatness  blest, 
No  Government,  or  Laws  it  had 
To  strengthen  and  establish  it, 
Till  thy  great  hand  the  Scepter  sway'd, 
But  groan'd  under  a  wretched  Anarchy  of  Wit: 
Unform'd,  and  void  was  then  its  Poesie, 
Only  some  prae-existing  Matter  we 
Perhaps  could  see, 
That  might  foretel  what  was  to  be ; 
A  rude,  and  undigested  Lump  it  lay, 
Like  the  old  Chaos,  e'er  the  birth  of  Light,  and  Day, 
Till  thy  brave  Genius  like  a  new  Creator  came, 
And  undertook  the  mighty  Frame; 
No  shuffled  Atoms  did  the  well-built  work  compose 
It  from  no  lucky  hit  of  blund'ring  Chance  arose 
(As  some  of  this  great  Fabrick  idly  dream) 
But  wise,  all-seeing  Judgment  did  contrive, 
And  knowing  Art  its  Graces  give : 
No  sooner  did  thy  Soul  with  active  Force  and  Fire 
The  dull  and  heavy  Mass  inspire, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  389 

But  strait  throughout  it  let  us  see 

Proportion,  Order,  Harmony, 

And  every  part  did  to  the  whole  agree, 

And  strait  appear'd  a  beauteous  new-made  world  of  Poetry. 

III. 

Let  dull,  and  ignorant  Pretenders  Art  condemn 
(Those  only  Foes  to  Art,  and  Art  to  them) 
The  meer  Fanaticks,  and  Enthusiasts  in  Poetry 
(For  Schismaticks  in  that,  as  in  Religion  be) 
Who  make't  all  Revelation,  Trance,  and  Dream. 
Let  them  despise  her  Laws,  and  think 
That  Rules  and  Forms  the  Spirit  stint: 
Thine  was  no  mad,  unruly  Frenzy  of  the  brain, 
Which  justly  might  deserve  the  Chain, 
'Twas  brisk,  and  mettled,  but  a  manag'd  Rage, 
Sprightly  as  vig'rous  Youth,  and  cool  as  temp'rate  Age: 
Free,  like  thy  Will,  it  did  all  Force  disdain, 
But  suffer'd  Reason's  loose  and  easie  rein, 
By  that  it  suffer'd  to  be  led, 
Which  did  not  curb  Poetick  Liberty,  but  guide: 
Fancy,  that  wild  and  haggard  Faculty, 
Untam'd  in  most,  and  let  at  random  fly, 
Was  wisely  govern'd  and  reclaim'd  by  thee: 
Restraint,  and  Discipline  was  made  endure, 
And  by  thy  calm  and  milder  Judgment  brought  to  lure; 
Yet  when  'twas  at  some  nobler  Quarry  sent, 
With  bold,  and  tow'ring  wings  it  upward  went, 
Not  lessen 'd  at  the  greatest  height, 
Not  turn'd  by  the  most  giddy  flights  of  dazling  Wit. 

IV. 

Nature,  and  Art  together  met,  and  joyn'd, 
Made  up  the  Character  of  thy  great  Mind. 
That  like  a  bright  and  glorious  Sphere, 
Appear'd  with  numerous  Stars  embellish'd  o'er. 
And  much  of  Light  to  thee,  and  much  of  Influence  bore. 
This  was  the  strong  Intelligence,  whose  pow'r 
Turn'd  it  about,  and  did  the  unerring  motions  steer: 


390  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Concurring  both  like  vital  Seed  and  Heat, 

The  noble  Births  they  joyntly  did  beget, 

And  hard  'twas  to  be  thought, 

Which  most  of  force  to  the  great  Generation  brought: 

So  mingling  Elements  compose  our  Bodies  frame, 

Fire,  Water,  Earth,  and  Air, 

Alike  their  just  Proportions  share, 

Each  undistinguish'd  still  remains  the  same, 

Yet  can't  we  say  that  cither's  here  or  there, 

But  all,  we  know  not  how,  are  scatter'd  ev'ry  where. 

V. 

Sober  and  grave  was  still  the  Garb  thy  Muse  put  on, 
No  tawdry  careless  slattern  Dress, 
Nor  starch'd,  and  formal  with  Affectedness, 
Nor  the  cast  Mode,  and  Fashion  of  the  Court,  and  Town 
But  neat,  agreeable,  and  janty  'twas, 
Well  fitted,  it  sate  close  in  every  place, 
And  all  became  with  an  uncommon  Air,  and  Grace: 
Rich,  costly  and  substantial  was  the  stuff, 
Nor  barely  smooth,  nor  yet  too  coarsly  rough: 
No  refuse,  ill-patch'd  Shreds  o'  th'  Schools, 
The  motly  wear  of  read,  and  learned  Fools; 
No  French  Commodity  which  now  so  much  does  take, 
And  our  own  better  Manufacture  spoil, 
Nor  was  it  ought  of  forein  Spoil; 
But  Staple  all,  and  all  of  English  Growth  and  Make; 
What  Flow'rs  so'er  of  Art  it  had,  were  found 
.No  tinsel  slight  Embroideries, 
But  all  appear'd  either  the  native  Ground, 
Or  twisted,  wrought,  and  interwoven  with  the  Piece. 

VI. 

Plain  Humor,  shewn  with  her  whole  various  Face, 
Not  mask'd  with  any  antick  Dress, 
Nor  screw'd  in  forc'd  ridiculous  Grimace 
(The  gaping  Rabbles  dull  delight, 
And  more  the  Actor's  than  the  Poet's  Wit) 
Such  did  she  enter  on  thy  Stage, 
And  such  was  represented  to  the  wond'ring  Age: 


TO  BEN  JONSON  391 

Well  wast  thou  skill'd,  and  read  in  human  kind; 

In  every  wild  fantastick  Passion  of  his  mind, 

Didst  into  all  his  hidden  Inclinations  dive 

What  each  from  Nature  does  receive, 

Or  Age,  or  Sex,  or  Quality,  or  Country  give ; 

What  custom  too,  that  mighty  Sorceress, 

Whose  pow'rful  Witchcraft  does  transform 

Enchanted  Man  to  several  monstrous  Images, 

Makes  this  an  odd,  and  freakish  Monky  turn, 

And  that  a  grave  and  solemn  Ass  appear, 

And  all  a  thousand  beastly  shapes  of  Folly  wear: 

Whate'er  Caprice  or  Whimsie  leads  awry 

Perverted  and  seduc'd  Mortality, 

Or  does  incline,  and  byass  it 

From  what's  Discreet,  and  Wise,  and  Right,  and  Good,  and  Fit; 

All  in  thy  faithful  Glass  were  so  express'd, 

As  if  they  were  Reflections  of  thy  Breast, 

As  if  they  had  been  stamp'd  on  thy  own  mind, 

And  thou  the  universal  vast  Idea  of  Mankind. 

VII. 

Never  didst  thou  with  the  same  Dish  repeated  cloy, 
Tho  every  Dish,  well  cook'd  by  thee, 
Contain'd  a  plentiful  Variety 
To  all  that  could  sound  relishing  Palats  be, 
Each  Regale  with  new  Delicacies  did  invite, 
Courted  the  Tast,  and  rais'd  the  Appetite: 
Whate'er  fresh  dainty  Fops  in  season  were 
To  garnish  and  set  out  thy  Bill  of  Fare, 
(Those  never  found  to  fail  throughout  the  year, 
For  seldom  that  ill  natur'd  Planet  rules, 
That  plagues  a  Poet  with  a  dearth  of  Fools) 
What  thy  strict  Observation  e'er  survey 'd, 
From  the  fine  luscious  Spark  of  high  and  courtly  Breed, 
Down  to  the  dull,  insipid  Cit, 
Made  thy  pleas'd  Audience  entertainment  fit, 
Serv'd  up  with  all  the  grateful  Poignancies  of  Wit. 


392  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

VIII. 

Most  Plays  are  writ  like  Almanacks  of  late, 

And  serve  one  only  Year,  one  only  State ; 

Another  makes  them  useless,  stale,  and  out  of  date; 

But  thine  were  wisely  calculated  fit 

For  each  Meridian,  every  Clime  of  Wit. 

For  all  succeeding  Time,  and  after-age, 

And  all  Mankind  might  thy  vast  Audience  sit, 

And  the  whole  World  be  justly  made  thy  Stage: 

Still  they  shall  taking  be,  and  ever  new, 

Still  keep  in  vogue  in  spite  of  all  the  damning  Crew ; 

Till  the  last  Scene  of  this  great  Theatre, 

Clos'd,  and  shut  down, 

The  numerous  Actors  all  retire, 

And  the  grand  Play  of  human  Life  be  done. 

IX. 

Beshrew  those  envious  Tongues,  who  seek  to  blast  thy  Bays, 
Who  Spots  in  thy  bright  Fame  would  find,  or  raise, 
And  say  it  only  shines  with  borrow'd  Rays; 
Rich  in  thy  self,  to  whose  unbounded  store 
Exhausted  Nature  could  vouchsafe  no  more: 
Thou  could'st  alone  the  Empire  of  the  Stage  maintain, 
Could'st  all  its  Grandeur,  and  its  Port  sustain, 
Nor  needest  others  Subsidies  to  pay, 
Needest  no  Tax  on  forein,  or  thy  native  Country  lay, 
To  bear  the  charges  of  thy  purchas'd  Fame, 
But  thy  own  Stock  could  raise  the  same, 
Thy  sole  Revenue  all  the  vast  Expence  defray: 
Yet  like  some  mighty  Conqueror  in  Poetry, 
Design 'd  by  Fate  of  choice  to  be 
Founder  of  its  new  universal  Monarchy, 
Boldly  thou  didst  the  learned  World  invade, 
Whilst  all  around  thy  pow'rful  Genius  sway'd, 
Soon  vanquished  Rome,  and  Greece  were  made  submit, 
Both  were  thy  humble  Tributaries  made, 
And  thou  return'dst  in  Triumph  with  her  captive  Wit. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  393 

X. 

Unjust,  and  more  ill-natur'd  those, 

Thy  spiteful,  and  malicious  Foes, 

Who  on  thy  happiest  Talent  fix  a  lye, 

And  call  that  Slowness,  which  was  Care  and  Industry. 

Let  me  (with  Pride  so  to  be  guilty  thought) 

Share  all  thy  wish'd  Reproach,  and  share  thy  shame, 

If  Diligence  be  deem'd  a  fault, 

If  to  be  faultless  must  deserve  their  Blame: 

Judge  of  thy  self  alone  (for  none  there  were 

Could  be  so  just,  or  could  be  so  severe) 

Thou  thy  own  Works  didst  strictly  try 

By  known  and  uncontested  Rules  of  Poetry, 

And  gav'st  thy  Sentence  still  impartially: 

With  rigor  thou  arraign'st  each  guilty  Line, 

And  spar'dst  no  criminal  Sense,  because  'twas  thine : 

.Unbrib'd  with  Labour,  Love,  or  Self-conceit, 

(For  never,  or  too  seldom  we, 

Objects  too  near  us,  our  own  Blemishes  can  see) 

Thou  didst  not  small'st  Delinquencies  acquit, 

But  saw'st  them  to  Correction  all  submit, 

Saw'st  execution  done  on  all  convicted  Crimes  of  Wit. 

XL 

Some  curious  Painter,  taught  by  Art  to  dare 
(For  they  with  Poets  in  that  Title  share) 
When  he  would  undertake  a  glorious  Frame 
Of  lasting  Worth,  and  fadeless  as  his  Fame; 
Long  he  contrives,  and  weighs  the  bold  Design, 
.  Long  holds  his  doubting  hand  e'er  he  begin, 
And  justly  then  proportions  every  stroke,  and  line, 
And  oft  he  brings  it  to  review, 
And  oft  he  does  deface,  and  dashes  oft  anew, 
And  mixes  Oyls  to  make  the  flitting  Colours  dure, 
To  keep  'em  from  the  tarnish  of  injurious  Time  secure; 
Finish'd  at  length  in  all  that  Care,  and  Skill  can  do, 
The  matchless  Piece  is  set  to  publick  View, 
And  all  surpriz'd  about  it  wond'ring  stand, 


394  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

And  tho  no  name  be  found  below, 

Yet  strait  discern  th'unimitable  hand, 

And  strait  they  cry  'tis  Titian,  or  'f's  Angela: 

So  thy  brave  Soul  that  scorn'd  all  cheap  and  easie  ways, 

And  trod  no  common  road  to  Praise, 

Would  not  with  rash,  and  speedy  Negligence  proceed, 

(For  whoe'er  saw  Perfection  grow  in  haste? 

Or  that  soon  done  which  must  for  ever  last?) 

But  gently  did  advance  with  wary  heed, 

And  shew'd  that  mastery  is  most  in  justness  read: 

Naught  ever  issued  from  thy  teeming  Breast, 

But  what  had  gone  full  time,  could  write  exactly  best, 

And  stand  the  sharpest  Censure,  and  dene  the  rigid 'st  Test. 

XII. 

'Twas  thus  th'  Almighty  Poet  (if  we  dare 
Our  weak,  and  meaner  Acts  with  his  compare) 
When  he  the  World's  fair  Poem  did  of  old  design, 
That  Work,  which  now  must  boast  no  longer  date  than  thine ; 
Tho  'twas  in  him  alike  to  will  and  do, 
Tho  the  same  Word  that  spoke,  could  make  it  too, 
Yet  would  he  not  such  quick  and  hasty  methods  use, 
Nor  did  an  instant  (which  it  might)  the  great  effect  produce: 
But  when  th'  All-wise  himself  in  Council  sate, 
Vouchsaf'd  to  think  and  be  deliberate, 
When  Heaven  consider'd,  and  th'  Eternal  Wit  and  Sense, 
Seefn'd  to  take  time,  and  care,  and  pains, 
It  shew'd  that  some  uncommon  Birth, 
That  something  worthy  of  a  God  was  coming  forth ; 
Nought  uncorrect  there  was,  nought  faulty  there, 
No  point  amiss  did  in  the  large  voluminous  Piece  appear, 
And  when  the  glorious  Author  all  survey 'd, 
Survey'd  whate'er  his  mighty  Labours  made, 
Well-pleas'd  he  was  to  find 

All  answer'd  the  great  Model,  and  Idea  of  his  Mind: 
Pleas'd  at  himself  He  in  high  wonder  stood, 
And  much  his  Power,  and  much  his  Wisdom  did  applaud, 
To  see  how  all  was  Perfect,  all  transcendent  Good. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  395 

XIII. 

Let  meaner  spirits  stoop  to  low  precarious  Fame, 
Content  on  gross  and  course  Applause  to  live, 
And  what  the  dull,  and  sensless  Rabble  give, 
Thou  didst  it  still  with  noble  scorn  contemn ; 
Nor  would'st  that  wretched  Alms  receive, 
The  poor  subsistence  of  some  bankrupt,  sordid  name: 
Thine  was  no  empty  Vapor,  rais'd  beneath, 
And  form'd  of  common  Breath, 
The  false,  and  foolish  Fire,  that's  whisk'd  about 
By  popular  Air,  and  glares  a  while,  and  then  goes  out; 
But  'twas  a  solid,  whole,  and  perfect  Globe  of  light, 
That  shone  all  over,  was  all  over  bright, 
And  dar'd  all  sullying  Clouds,  and  fear'd  no  darkning  night; 
Like  the  gay  Monarch  of  the  Stars  and  Sky, 
Who  wheresoe'er  he  does  display 
His  Sovereign  Lustre,  and  Majestick  Ray, 
Strait  all  the  less,  and  petty  Glories  nigh 
Vanish  and  shrink  away. 

O'erwhelm'd,  and  swallow'd  by  the  greater  blaze  of  Day; 
With  such  a  strong,  an  awful  and  victorious  Beam 
Appear'd,  and  ever  shall  appear,  thy  Fame, 
View'd,  and  ador'd  by  all  th'  undoubted  Race  of  Wit, 
Who  only  can  endure  to  look  on  it. 
The  rest  o'ercame  with  too  much  light, 
With  too  much  brightness  dazled,  or  extinguish'd  quite: 
Restless,  and  uncontroul'd  it  now  shall  pass 
As  wide  a  course  about  the  World  as  he, 
And  when  his  long-repeated  Travels  cease 
Begin  a  new  and  vaster  Race, 
And  still  tread  round  the  endless  Circle  of  Eternity. 

[Poems  and  Translations,  in   The  Works  of  Mr.  John  Oldham,   1703, 
pp.  327-43.] 

John  Oldham,  1679. 

The  First  Satyr  he  [the  author]  drew  by  Sylla's  Ghost  in  the 
great  Johnson,  which  may  be  perceived  by  some  Strokes  and 


396  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Touches  therein,  however  short  they  come  of  the  Original. 

[Advertisement  prefixed  to  his  Satyrs  upon  the  Jesuits':  Written  in  the 
Year  1679.  There  are  certain  other  passages  in  the  Satyrs  which 
show  indebtedness  to  Jonson's  Catiline;  see  W.  D.  Briggs,  The 
Influence  of  Jonson's  Tragedy  in  the  Seventeenth  Century,  Anglia, 
xxxv,  296.] 

John  Martyn,  Henry  Herringman,  and  Richard  Mariot,  1679. 

The  Book-sellers  to  the  Reader. 

If  our  care  and  endeavours  to  do  our  Authors  right  (in  an 
incorrupt  and  genuine  Edition  of  their  Works)  and  thereby  to 
gratifie  and  oblige  the  Reader,  be  but  requited  with  a  suitable 
entertainment,  we  shall  be  encourag'd  to  bring  Ben  Johnson's 
two  Volumes  into  one,  and  publish  them  in  this  form;  and  also 
to  reprint  Old  Shakespear. 

[Prefixed  to  the  Second  Folio  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  1679.] 

John  Dryden,  1679. 

The  difference  between  Shakespeare  and  Fletcher,  in  their 
plottings,  seems  to  be  this:  that  Shakespeare  generally  moves 
more  terror,  and  Fletcher  more  compassion:  for  the  first  had  a 
more  masculine,  a  bolder,  and  more  fiery  genius;  the  second, 
a  more  soft  and  womanish.  In  the  mechanic  beauties  of  the 
plot,  which  are  the  observation  of  the  three  unities,  time,  place, 
and  action,  they  are  both  deficient;  but  Shakespeare  most. 
Ben  Jonson  reformed  those  errors  in  his  comedies,  yet  one  of 
Shakespeare's  was  regular  before  him;  which  is,  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor.  For  what  remains  concerning  the  design,  you  are 
to  be  referred  to  our  English  critic.  .  .  . 

It  is  one  of  the  excellences  of  Shakespeare,  that  the  manners 
of  his  persons  are*  generally  apparent,  and  you  see  their  bent 
and  inclinations.  Fletcher  comes  far  short  of  him  in  this,  as 
indeed  he  does  almost  in  everything.  There  are  but  glimmerings 
of  manners  in  most  of  his  comedies,  which  run  upon  adventures; 
and  in  his  tragedies,  Rollo,  Otto,  the  King  and  no  King,  Melan- 
tius,  and  many  others  of  his  best,  are  but  pictures  shown  you 
in  the  twilight;  you  know  not  whether  they  resemble  vice  or 
virtue,  and  they  are  either  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  as  the  present 


TO  BEN  JONSON  397 

scene  requires  it.  But  of  all  poets,  this  commendation  is  to  be 
given  to  Ben  Jonson,  that  the  manners,  even  of  the  most  in 
considerable  persons  in  his  plays,  are  everywhere  apparent. 

To  return  once  more  to  Shakespeare;  no  man  ever  drew  so 
many  characters,  or  generally  distinguished  them  better  from 
one  another,  excepting  only  Jonson.  I  will  instance  but  in  one, 
to  show  the  copiousness  of  his  invention;  it  is  that  of  Caliban, 
or  the  monster,  in  The  Tempest. 

[Preface,  The  Grounds  of  Criticism  in  Tragedy,  prefixed  to  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  or  Truth  Found  too  Late,  1679.] 

Thomas  Shad  well,  1679. 

Nor  are  your  [Sir  Charles  Sedley's]  writings  unequal  to  any 
man's  of  this  age;  not  to  speak  of  abundance  of  excellent  copies 
of  verses,  you  have  in  the  Mulberry  Garden  shown  true  wit, 
humour,  and  satire  of  a  comedy;  and  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
the  true  spirit  of  a  tragedy;  the  only  one  (except  two  of  Jonson's 
and  one  of  Shakespear's)  wherein  Romans  are  made  to  speak 
and  do  like  Romans. 

[The  Dedication,  to  Sir  Charles  Sedley,  prefixed  to  A   True  Widow, 
1679.] 

Samuel  Butler,  about  1680. 

When  he  ["a  small  poet"]  writes  Anagrams,  he  uses  to  lay 
the  Outsides  of  his  Verses  even  (like  a  Bricklayer)  by  a  Lii  e  of 
Rhime  and  Acrostic,  and  fill  the  Middle  with  Rubbish — In  this 
he  imitates  Ben  Johnson,  but  in  nothing  else.     (P.  53.) 
*         *         *         * 

Men  of  the  quickest  apprehensions,  and  aptest  Geniuses  to 
anything  they  undertake,  do  not  always  prove  the  greatest 
Masters  in  it.  For  there  is  more  Patience  and  Flegme  required 
in  those  that  attaine  to  any  Degree  of  Perfection,  then  is  com 
monly  found  in  the  Temper  of  active,  and  ready  wits,  that  soone 
tire  and  will  not  hold  out;  as  the  swiftest  Race-horse  will  not 
perform  a  longe  Jorney  so  well  as  a  sturdy  dull  Jade.  Hence  it 
is  that  Virgil  who  wanted  much  of  that  Natural  easines  of  wit 
that  Ovid  had,  did  nevertheless  with  hard  Labour  and  long 


AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Study  in  the  end,  arrive  at  a  higher  perfection  then  the  other 
with  all  his  Dexterity  of  wit,  but  less  Industry  could  attaine  to: 
The  same  we  may  observe  of  Johnson,  and  Shakespeare.  For 
he  that  is  able  to  thinke  long  and  study  well,  will  be  sure  to  finde  out 
better  things  then  another  man  can  hit  upon  suddenly,  though 
of  more  quick  and  ready  Parts,  which  is  commonly  but  chance, 
and  the  other  Art  and  Judgment.  (P.  398.) 

*  *         *         * 

Ben:  Johnson  in  saying  (in  one  of  his  Prologues)  All  Gall  and 
Coprace  from  his  Inke  he  drayneth,  only  a  little  Salt  remaineth 
&c.,  would  in  these  more  Censorious  times  be  chargd  with  a 
kinde  of  Nonsense,  for  though  Gall  and  Coprace  be  usd  in  Inke 
Salt  never  was.  (P.  407.) 

*  *         *         * 

He  [Dryden]  complaynd  of  B.  Johnson  for  stealing  40  Sceanes 
out  of  Plautus.     Set  a  Thief  to  finde  out  a  Thief.     (P.  428.) 
[Characters  and  Passages  from  Note-Books,  ed.  A.  R.  Waller,  1908.] 

John  Oldham,  1680. 

Perhaps,  fond  Fool,  thou  sooth'st  thy  self  in  dream, 
With  hopes  of  purchasing  a  lasting  Name? 
Thou  think'st  perhaps  thy  Trifles  shall  remain, 
Like  sacred  Cowley,  and  immortal  Ben? 
[A  Satyr;  in  The  Works  of  Mr.  John  Oldham,  1703,  p.  416.] 

John  Dryden,  1680. 

All  translation,  I  suppose,  may  be  reduced  to  these  three 
heads. 

First,  that  of  metaphrase,  or  turning  an  author  word  by  word, 
and  line  by  line,  from  one  language  into  another.  Thus,  or 
near  this  manner,  was  Horace  his  Art  of  Poetry  translated  by 
Ben  Jonson.  .  .  . 

We  see  Ben  Jonson  could  not  avoid  obscurity  in  his  literal 
translation  of  Horace,  attempted  in  the  same  compass  of  lines: 
nay,  Horace  himself  could  scarce  have  done  it  to  a  Greek  poet: — 

Brevis  esse  labor o,  obscurus  fio: 

either  perspicuity  or  gracefulness  will  frequently  be  wanting. 
[Preface  to  Translation  of  Ovid's  Epistles,  1680.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  399 

Nathaniel  Lee,  1680. 

Therefore  I  hope,  as  your  Lordship's  Great  Uncle  shone  upon 
the  mighty  Ben  with  a  full  Favour,  (tho'  my  best  Merits  are 
not  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  his  smallest  Labours)  your 
Lordship's  infinite  Goodness  will  accept  of  my  honest  Intentions, 
which  to  your  Lordship's  Service  shall  be  ever  humbly  offer'd. 

[The  Dedication,  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  prefixed  to  Caesar  Borgiat 
1680.] 

Nathaniel  Lee,  1681. 

.  .  .  There  are  some  Subjects  that  require  but  half  the  strength 
of  a  great  Poet,  but  when  Greece  or  Old  Rome  come  in  play,  the 
Nature,  Wit  and  Vigour  of  foremost  Shakespear,  the  Judgment 
and  Force  of  Johnson,  with  all  his  borrowed  Mastery  from  the 
Antients,  will  scare  suffice  for  so  terrible  a  Grapple. 

[Dedication,  to  the  Earl  of  Dorset  and  Middlesex,  prefixed  to  Lucius 
Junius  Brutus,  1681.] 

Anonymous,  1681. 

I  can't,  without  infinite  ingratitude  to  the  Memory  of  those 
excellent  persons,  omit  the  first  Famous  Masters  in't,  of  our 
Nation,  Venerable  Shakespear  and  the  great  Ben  Johnson. 

[An  Essay  on  Dramatick  Poetry,  appended  to  Amaryllis  to  Tityrus. 
Being  the  First  Heroick  Harange  of  the  excellent  pen  of  Monsieur 
Scudery  .  .  .  Englished  by  a  Person  of  Honour,  1681,  p.  66,] 

John  Dryden,  1681. 

A  famous  modern  poet  used  to  sacrifice  every  year  a  Statius 
to  Virgil's  manes;    and  I  have  indignation  enough  to  burn  a 
D'Ambois  annually,  to  the  memory  of  Jonson. 
[The  Spanish  Friar,  1681,  Dedication.] 

Andrew  Marvell,  1681. 

As  one  put  drunk  into  the  packet-boat, 

Tom  May  was  hurry'd  hence,  and  did  not  know't; 

But  was  amazed  on  th'  Elysian  side, 

And,  with  an  eye  uncertain  gazing  wide, 

Could  not  determine  in  what  place  he  was, 


400  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

(For  whence,  in  Steven's  ally,  trees  or  grass?) 
Nor  where  the  Pope's-Head,  nor  the  Mitre  lay, 
Signs  by  which  still  he  found  and  lost  his  way. 
At  last,  while  doubtfully  he  all  compares, 
He  saw  near  hand,  as  he  imagin'd,  Ares. 
Such  did  he  seem  for  corpulence  and  port, 
But  'twas  a  man  much  of  another  sort; 
'Twas  Ben,  that  in  the  dusky  laurel  shade, 
Amongst  the  chorus  of  old  poets,  laid, 
Sounding  of  ancient  heroes,  such  as  were 
The  subject's  safety,  and  the  rebel's  fear: 
And  how  a  double-headed  vulture  eats 
Brutus  and  Cassius,  the  people's  cheats; 
But,  seeing  May,  he  varied  streight  his  song, 
Gently  to  signifie  that  he  was  wrong. 
Cups  more  then  civil  of  Emilthian  wine, 
I  sing  (said  he)  and  the  Pharsalian  sign, 
Where  the  historian  of  the  Commonwealth 
In  his  own  bowels  sheath 'd  the  conquering  health. 
By  this  May  to  himself  and  them  was  come, 
He  found  he  was  translated,  and  by  whom, 
Yet  then  with  foot  as  stumbling  as  his  tongue, 
Prest  for  his  place  among  the  learned  throng; 
But  Ben,  who  knew  not  neither  foe  nor  friend, 
Sworn  enemy  to  all  that  do  pretend, 
Rose  more  then  ever  he  was  seen,  severe, 
Shook  his  gray  locks,  and  his  own  bayes  did  tear 
At  this  intrusion;   then,  with  laurel  wand, 
The  awful  sign  of  his  supreme  command; 
As  whose  dread  whisk  Virgil  himself  does  quake, 
And  Horace  patiently  its  strokes  does  take; 
As  he  crowds  in,  he  whipt  him  ore  the  pate, 
Like  Pembroke  at  the  masque,  and  then  did  rate. 
[Tom  May's  Death,  in  Miscellaneous  Poems,  1681,  pp.  35-37.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  401 

Anonymous,  1681. 

Our  English  writers  are  all  Transmigrate 
In  Pamphlet  penners  and  diurnal  Scribes, 
Wanton  Comedians,  and  foul  Gypsy  Tribes, 
Not  like  those  brave  Heroick  sublime  strains 
That  wrote  the  Cesars  and  their  noble  Reigns, 
Nor  like  those  learned  Poets  so  divine 
That  penn'd  Mackduff,  and  famous  Cataline. 

[The   Character  of  Wits   Squint-Ey'd  Maid,  Pasquil- Makers,   1681,  a 
broadside  folio.] 

John  Oldham,  1681. 

I  doubt  not  but  the  Reader  will  think  me  guilty  of  an  high 
presumption  in  adventuring  upon  a  Translation  of  The  Art  of 
Poetry,  after  two  such  great  Hands  as  have  gone  before  me  in 
the  same  attempts:  I  need  not  acquaint  him,  that  I  mean  Ben 
Johnson,  and  the  Earl  of  Roscommon,  the  one  being  of  so  estab- 
lish'd  an  Authority,  that  whatever  he  did  is  held  as  Sacred,  the 
other  having  lately  performed  it  with  such  admirable  success, 
as  almost  cuts  off  all  hope  in  any  after  Pretenders,  of  ever  coming 
up  to  what  he  has  done. 

[Preface  to  his  Translation  of  Horace  His  Art  of  Poetry;   in  The  Works 
of  Mr.  John  Oldham,  1703,  p.  131.] 

John  Oldham,  1681. 

Words  new  and  foreign  may  be  best  brought  in, 
If  borrow'd  from  a  Language  near  akin: 
Why  should  the  peevish  Criticks  now  forbid 
To  Lee  and  Dry  den,  what  was  not  deny'd 
To  Shakespear,  Ben,  and  Fletcher,  heretofore, 
For  which  they  Praise  and  Commendation  bore? 

*         *         *         * 

If  I  discern  not  the  true  Stile  and  Air, 
Nor  how  to  give  the  proper  Character 
To  every  kind  of  Work;   how  dare  I  claim, 
And  challenge  to  my  self  a  Poets  Name? 
And  why  had  I  with  awkward  Modesty, 
27 


402  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Rather  than  learn,  always  unskilful  be? 

Volpone  and  Morose  will  not  admit 

Of  Catiline's  high  strains,  nor  is  it  fit 

To  make  Sejanus  on  the  Stage  appear 

In  the  low  Dress  which  Comick  Persons  wear. 

Whate'er  the  Subiect  be  on  which  you  write, 

Give  each  thing  its  due  Place  and  Time  aright. 

[Horace  His  Art  of  Poetry,  Imitated  in  English;   in  The  Works  of  Mr. 
John  Oldham,  1703,  p.  140.] 

Anonymous,  1682. 

EARNEST. — Prot.  Cour[ant]  has  pepper'd  us  away  for  what 
we  said  of  him  in  our  last.  Hear  his  words:  We  admire  at  his 
high-flown  Nonsence  in  terming  the  expression  High  Elegies  Non 
sensical,  confessing  our  Ignorance  of  his  Sublime  Notion  therein, 
and  as  for  the  reason  why  we  durst  not  adventure  to  make  his  Elegy, 
it  is  the  same  with  that  which  is  given  by  the  famous  Poets  that 
flourished  at  the  time  of  Ben.  Johnson's  death,  viz.  That  they 
could  not  give  him  his  just  Praises,  so  that  there  was  no  other 
Inscription  on  his  Grave-stone  than  O  rare  Ben.  Johnson. 

JEST. — To  expose  this  Fellow  to  ridicule,  one  would  think,  it 
might  be  enough  to  shew  him,  and  I  know  no  other  way  to  get 
pardon  of  any  body  that  may  hear  us,  but  by  assuring  them  we'l 
never  regard  him  again,  except  upon  better  occasion;  He  knows 
High  Elegies  to  be  Nonsensical  (if  he  understands  anything) 
though  Elogies  or  Eulogies,  which  he  ment,  might  not  have  been 
so;  then  he  shams  upon  us,  that  the  great  Poets  could  not  give 
Johnson  his  due  praise,  instead  of  dare  not  (or  else  he  speaks  not 
to  the  point;)  which  he  proves  by  the  instance  of  the  Epitaph 
instead  of  the  Elegy  upon  him,  of  0  rare;  which  yet  is  most 
Poetically  expressive  of  the  highest  desert,  and  does  as  fully 
answer  his  utmost  merit  as  the  Utinam  viveres  upon  the  Stone  of 
the  Noble  Roman. 

[Heraditus  Ridens,  May  16,  1682;    quoted  in  Notes  and  Queries,  5th 
Series,  August  25,  1877,  p.  146.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  403 

Thomas  D'Urfey,  1682. 

If  no  one  were  to  write  Dramaticks,  unless  they  could  equall 

the  Immortal  Johnson  and  Shakespear;  or  Heroicks,  unless  they 

stood  Competitors  with  the  Incomparable  Cowley  or  Dry  den;   I 

fear  the  Town  would  lose  the  diversion  both  of  Plays  and  Poems. 

[Butler's  Ghost:   or  Hudibras.  The  Fourth  Part,  1682,  Preface.] 

Anonymous,  1682. 

He's  one  whose  Works,  in  time  to  come, 
Will  be  as  honour'd,  and  become 
Deathless  as  Ben's  or  Cowley' s  are, 
As  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  or  Shakespear 
One  he  himself  is  pleas'd  t'  admire. 
Nor  could  these  Laureats  living,  be 
Better  prefer'd,  or  lov'd  than  he. 
[Poeta  de  Tristibus:  or  the  Poet's  Complaint,  1682,  p.  21.] 

John  Dryden,  1682. 

Great  Fletcher  never  treads  in  buskins  here, 

Nor  greater  Jonson  dares  in  socks  appear;  .  .  . 

Nor  let  false  friends  seduce  thy  mind  to  fame, 

By  arrogating  Jonson's  hostile  name. 

Let  father  Flecknoe  fire  thy  mind  with  praise, 

And  uncle  Ogleby  thy  envy  raise. 

Thou  art  my  blood,  where  Jonson  has  no  part: 

What  share  have  we  in  nature,  or  in  art? 

[Mac- Flecknoe:  A  Satire  against  Thomas  Shadwell,  1682;   The  Works  of 
John  Dryden,  ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1885,  x,  448,  456.] 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1682. 

.  .  .  Had  it  been  never  so  bad,  I  had  valued  the  Honour  of 
having  so  many,  and  such  Friends,  as  eminently  appeared  for 
me,  above  that  of  excelling  the  most  admirable  Johnson,  if  it 
were  possible  to  be  done  by  me. 

[To  the  Reader,  prefixed  to  The  Lancashire  Witches,  1682.] 


404  .  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire,  1682. 
How  shamefull  and  what  monstrous  things  are  these! 
And  then  they  rail  at  th'  Age  they  cannot  please, 
Conclude  us  only  partial  for  the  dead, 
And  grudge  the  Sign  of  old  Ben.  Johnson's  head; 
When  the  Intrinsick  value  of  the  Stage 
Can  scarce  be  judg'd  but  by  the  following  Age.  .  .  . 

[Essay  upon  Poetry,  1682;   here  cited  from  Critical  Essays  of  the  Seven 
teenth  Century,  ed.  J.  E.  Spingarn,  1908,  ii,  p.  295.] 

Edmund  Waller,  1682. 

These  scribbling  insects  have  what  they  deserve, 
Not  plenty,  nor  the  glory  for  to  starve. 
That  Spenser  knew,  that  Tasso  felt  before ; 
And  death  found  surly  Ben  exceeding  poor.   .  .   . 

[To  Mr.   Creech,   On  his   Translation  of  Lucretius;    in   The  Poems  of 
Edmund  Waller,  ed.  G.  T.  Drury,  1893,  p.  218.] 

Alexander  Radcliffe,  1682. 

...  No  Idle  Scenes  fit  busie  times  as  these, 
Instead  of  Playes  we  now  converse  with  Pleas; 
And  't's  thought  the  last  do  savour  more  of  Wit, 
For  those  have  Plots  to  spend,  but  these  to  get. 
(Give  way,  Great  Shakespear,  and  immortal  Ben, 
To  Doe  and  Roe,  John  Den  and  Richard  Fen.} 

'[The  Sword's  Farewell;    in  The  Ramble:   an  Anti-Heroick  Poem,  1682, 
p.  118.] 

Robert  Gould,  1682-89? 

To  Madam  G.  with  Mrs.  Phillip's  Poems. 
.  .  ,  Great  Shakespear,  Fletcher,  Denham,  Waller,  Ben, 
Cowley,  and  all  th'  Immortal,  tuneful  Men 
Thou'st  made  thy  own,  and  none  can  better  tell 
Where  they  are  low,  and  where  they  most  excel, 
Can  reach  their  heights  when  thou  art  pleas'd  to  write, 
Soaring  a  pitch  that  dazles  human  sight! 


TO  BEN  JONSON  405 

The  Play-House,  a  Satyr. 

.  .  .  Where  can  you  find  a  Scene  deserves  more  praise, 
In  Shakespear,  Johnson,  or  in  Fletcher's  Plays? 
They  were  so  modest  they  were  always  dull  ; 
For  what  is  Desdemona  but  a  Fool?  .  . 
But,  if  in  what's  sublime  you  take  delight, 
Lay  Shakespear,  Ben,  and  Fletcher  in  your  sight: 
Where  Human  Actions  are  with  Life  exprest, 
Vertue  extoll'd,  and  Vice  as  much  deprest. 
There  the  kind  Lovers  modestly  complain, 
So  passionate,  you  see  their  inmost  pain, 
Pity  and  wish  their  Love  not  plac'd  in  vain. 
There  Wit  and  Art,  and  Nature  you  may  see 
In  all  their  statliest  Dress  and  Bravery: 
None  e'r  yet  wrote,  and  e'r  will  write  again, 
So  lofty  things  in  such  a  Heavenly  strain!  » 

[Poems.  Chiefly  consisting  of  Satyrs  and  Satyrical  Epi-stles,  1689,  pp.  65, 
173,  i?6.] 

John  Dryden,  1683. 

...  A  great  victory  they  will  have  who  shall  discover  to  the 
world  this  wonderful  secret,  that  I  have  not  observed  the  unities 
of  place  and  time;  but  are  they  better  kept  in  the  farce  of  The 
Libertine  Destroyed?  It  was  our  common  business  here  to  draw 
the  parallel  of  the  times,  and  not  to  make  an  exact  tragedy. 
For  this  once  we  were  resolved  to  err  with  honest  Shakespeare; 
neither  can  Catiline  or  Sejanus,  (written  by  the  great  master  of 
our  art,)  stand  excused,  any  more  than  we,  from  this  exception. 

[The  Vindication:  or  the  Parallel  of  the  French  Holy  League,  1683; 
The  Dramatic  Works  of  John  Dryden,  ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury, 
1882,  vii,  162-63.] 

John  Dryden,  1684, 

Your  Ben  and  Fletcher,  in  their  first  young  flight, 
Did  no  Volpone,  no  Arbaces  write; 
But  hopped  about,  and  short  excursions  made 
From  bough  to  bough,  as  if  they  were  afraid, 
And  each  was  guilty  of  some  Slighted  Maid. 


406  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Shakespeare's  own  muse  her  Pericles  first  bore; 
The  Prince  of  Tyre  was  elder  than  the  Moor: 
'Tis  miracle  to  see  a  first  good  play; 
All  hawthorns  do  not  bloom  on  Christmas  Day. 
A  slender  poet  must  have  time  to  grow, 
And  spread  and  burnish  as  his  brothers  do. 

[Prologue  to  Charles  Davenant's  Circe;   in  The  Works  of  John  Dryden, 
ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1885,  x,  330.] 

Matthew  Prior,  1684. 

A  Satyr  on  the  modern  Translators. 
Odi  imitatores  servum  pecus,  &c. 

.  .  .  Nay,  I  could  hear  him  [Dryden]  damn  last  Ages  Wit, 
And  rail  at  Excellence  he  ne're  can  hit; 
His  Envy  show'd  at  powerfull  Cowley  rage, 
And  banish  Sense  with  Johnson  from  the  Stage: 
His  Sacrilege  should  plunder  Shakespear's  Urn, 
With  a  dull  Prologue  make  the  Ghost  return 
To  bear  a  second  Death,  and  greater  pain, 
,  While  the  Fiend's  words  the  Oracle  prophane. 

[From  Poems  on  Affairs  of  State:  the  First  Part,  1697,  p.  207.] 

Knightly  Chetwood,  1684. 

Such  was  the  case  when  Chaucer's  early  toyl 
Founded  the  Muses  Empire  in  our  Soyl. 
Spencer  improv'd  it  with  his  painful  hand 
But  lost  a  Noble  Muse  in  Fairy-land. 
Shakspeare  say'd  all  that  Nature  cou'd  impart, 
And  Johnson  added  Industry  and  Art. 
Cowley,  and  Denham  gain'd  immortal  praise; 
And  some  who  merit  as  they  wear,  the  Bays.  .  .  . 

[Commendatory  Verses  prefixed  to  An  Essay  on  Translated  Verse,  by 
the  Earl  of  Roscommon,  1684.] 

William  Winstanley,  1684. 

Virgil  (if  we  may  reflect  on  Tradition,)  after  he  had  written 
thirty  Verses  in  a  morning,  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  to  convert' 


TO  BEN  JONSON  407 

them  into  three  good  ones;  like  Ben.  Johnson,  who  to  one  that 
told  him  of  his  Oyl  and  his  Lamp,  the  pains  he  took  before  his 
Births,  those  happy  abstracts  of  the  humours  and  manners  of 
men,  gave  this  answer,  That  his  were  Works,  the  other  printed 
things  for  the  Stage  were  but  Playes.  Dons  and  Cleavelands 
Poems,  how  have  they  whipt  and  pedantized  the  other  Locusts  of 
Poetry?  thus  a  true  Diamond  is  to  be  esteemed  above  heaps  of 
Bristol-^ tones.  (The  Preface,  sig.  a  verso.) 

*  *         *         * 

I  have  conversed  with  some  of  the  Wits,  who  credibly  informed 
me,  that  Ben  Johnsons  Play  of  the  Fox  under  the  name  of  Vulpone, 
had  some  allusion  to  Mr.  [Thomas]  Suttons  manner  of  treating 
of  his  kindred.  (Pp.  318-19.) 

*  *         *         * 
The  LIVES  of 

Mr.  Sam.  Daniel,\          ("Mr.  Ben.  Johnson, 
Mr.  Mic.  Drayton,\         \Mr.  Will.  Shakespeare. 

We  shall  next  present  you  with  a  Quaternion  of  Poets,  such 
as  were  of  the  best  rank,  endued  with  parts  of  admirable  per 
fection,  and  deservedly  coming  under  the  notion  of  Worthies. 
(P-  337.) 

*  *  *  * 

Ben  Johnson. 

[For  his  account  of  Jonson,  Winstanley  copies  from  Thomas 
Fuller's  Worthies,  1643-62,  q.v.,  with  the  following  additions  based 
on  Edward  Phillips.] 

In  three  of  his  Comedies,  namely  the  Fox,  Alchymist,  and 
Silent-Woman,  he  may  be  compared  in  the  Judgement  of  learned 
men,  for  Decorum,  Language  and  well  humouring  the  Parts,  as 
well  with  the  chief  of  the  Ancient  Greek  and  Latine  Comedians, 
as  the  prime  of  Modern  Italians,  who  have  been  judged  the 
best  of  Europe  for  a  happy  Vein  in  Comedies;  Nor  is  his  Bar- 
tholemew- Fair  much  short  of  them.  As  for  his  other  Comedies, 
Cinthia's  Revels,  Poetaster,  and  the  rest,  if  they  be  not  so  Spritful 
and  Vigorous  as  his  first  Pieces,  all  that  are  old  will,  and  all  that 
desire  to  be  old,  should  excuse  him  therein,  and  therefore  let 


408  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

the  name  of  Ben.  Johnson  shield  them  against  who  ever  shall 
think  fit  to  be  severe  in  censure  against  them.  Truth  is  his 
Tragedies,  Sejanus  and  Cateline  seem  to  have  in  them  more  of 
an  artificial  and  inflate,  than  of  a  pathetical  and  naturally 
Tragick  height;  In  the  rest  of  his  Poetry,  (for  he  is  not  wholly 
Dramatic)  as  his  Underwoods,  Epigrams,  &c.  he  is  sometimes 
bold  and  strenuous,  sometimes  Magisterial,  sometimes  Lepid 
and  full  enough  of  conceit,  and  sometimes  a  man  as  other  men 
are.  .  .  . 

Yet  were  not  the  Poets  then  so  dull  and  dry,  but  that  many 
expressed  their  affection  to  his  Memory  in  Elegies  and  Epitaphs ; 
amongst  which,  this  following  may  not  be  esteemed  the  worst. 
.  .  .  (Pp.  342-44-) 

[England's  Worthies,  1684.     There  are  several  other  passing  allusions 
to  Jonson,  of  no  great  interest.] 

Earl  of  Roscommon,  1684. 

I  have  kept  as  close  as  I  could,  both  to  the  Meaning,  and  the 
Words  of  the  Author,  and  done  nothing  but  what  I  believe  he 
would  forgive,  if  he  were  alive;  and  I  have  often  ask'd  my  self 
that  Question.  I  know  this  is  a  field,  Per  quern  Magnus  Equos 
Arunci  flexit  Alumnus.  But  with  all  the  respect  due  to  the 
Name  of  Ben  Johnson,  to  which  no  Man  pays  more  Veneration 
than  I,  it  cannot  be  deny'd,  that  the  constraint  of  Rhyme,  and 
a  litteral  Translation,  (to  which  Horace  in  this  Book  declares 
himself  an  Enemy)  has  made  him  want  a  Comment  in  many 
Places. 

[Horace:  of  the  Art  of  Poetry,  1684,  The  Preface.] 

Mr.  Evelyn,  before  1685. 

The  Immortality  of  Poesie. 
Old  Chaucer  shall,  for  his  facetious  style 
Be  read,  and  prais'd  by  warlike  Britains,  while 
The  Sea  enriches  and  defends  their  Isle. 

While  the  whole  Earth  resounds  Eliza's  Fame 
Who  cur'd  the  French,  and  did  the  Spaniard  tame, 
The  English  will  remember  Spencer's  Name. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  409 

Thee  Shakespear  Poets  ever  shall  adore, 
Whose  wealthy  Fancy  left  so  vast  a  store, 
They  still  refine  thy  rough  but  precious  ore. 

While  Flatt'rers  live  and  Parasites  shall  dine, 
While  Commonwealths  afford  a  Catiline, 
Laborious  Johnson  shall  be  thought  divine. 
[Poems  Collected  by  N.  Tote,  1685,  p.  90.] 

Anonymous,  1685. 

Whilst  in  this  Town  there's  a  procuring  Bawd, 
Or  a  smooth  flatt'ring  whore,  that  plyes  the  trade, 
A  wily  Servant,  cruel  Father  known, 
The  Laurel  shall  the  matchless  Johnson  Crown. 
Shakespear,  tho  rude,  yet  his  immortal  Wit 
Shall  never  to  the  stroke  of  time  submit, 
And  the  loud  thund'ring  flights  of  lofty  Lee, 
Shall  strike  the  Ears  of  all  Posterity. 

[To  detracting  Censurers,  that  the  Fame  of  Poets  is  Eternal;  in  Miscellany 
Poems  and  Translations.     By  Oxford  Hands,  1685,  p.  156.] 

Gilbert  Burnet,  1685. 

I  will  not  provoke  the  present  Masters  of  the  Stage,  by  pre 
ferring  the  Authors  of  the  last  Age  to  them  :  For  though  they 
all  acknowledge  that  they  come  far  short  of  Ben  Johnson,  Beau 
mont  and  Fletcher,  yet  I  believe  they  are  better  pleased  to  say 
this  themselves,  than  to  have  It  observed  by  others. 

[The  Preface  to  his  Translation  of  Sir  Thomas  More's  Utopia,  1685.] 


Nahum  Tate, 
We  own,  nor  to  confess  it  are  asham'd 
That  from  tough  Ben's  Remains,  this  Piece  was  fram'd. 
But  if  Embellishments  of  Vanity 
And  Vice,  are  here  improv'd  to  a  degree 
Beyond  the  Characters  that  Master  drew, 
We  must  the  Ladies  thank  for  that,  and  you, 
So  far  above  that  Johnson's  Age  e'er  knew. 
[Prologue  to  Cuckolds-Haven,  1685.] 


410  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Nahum  Tate,  1686. 

When  o'r  the  World  the  mild  Augustus  reign'd, 

Wit's  Empire  too  the  Roman  Poets  gain'd: 

So  when  the  first  auspicious  James  possest 

Our  Brittish  World,  and  in  Possessing  blest; 

Our  Poets  wore  the  Lawrels  of  the  Age, 

While  Shakespear,  Fletcher,  Johnson  crown'd  the  Stage. 

And  tho'  our  Ccesar's  since  have  rais'd  the  State, 

Our  Poetry  sustains  the  Roman  Fate. 

In  less  Essays  successful  we  have  been, 

But  lost  the  Nobler  Province  of  the  Scene: 

Perverters,  not  Reformers  of  the  Stage, 

Deprav'd  to  Farce,  or  more  fantastick  Rage. 

How  therefore  shall  we  Celebrate  thy  Name, 
Whose  Genius  has  so  well  retriev'd  our  Fame? 
Whose  happy  Muse  such  wonders  can  impart, 
And  temper  Shakespear' s  Flame  with  Johnson's  Art.  .  .  . 
[To  the  Author,  prefixed  to  Sir  Francis  Fane's  The  Sacrifice,  1686.] 

Thomas  Jevon,  1686. 

Therefore  if  in  greater  and  more  evident  Points  the  Lawyer 
can  no  more  be  without  his  Fee,  than  the  Lord  Chancellour  his 
Mace,  or  a  Poet  without  Errors,  (my  self  alone  exempted)  why 
shou'd  the  Judgment  of  a  Man  that  is  partially  byass'd  against 
the  Banditti,  rule  the  Author's  opinion  in  his  own  Hemisphere, 
and  discuss  at  large  the  Virtues  of  Jobson's  Wife,  without  the 
Management  of  Hobbs  his  Leviathan?  Why  shou'd  Shakespear, 
Johnson,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  that  are  no  way  Adequate  to  the 
profound  Intellects  of  my  present  Atonement,  be  rank'd  above 
the  Laborious,  tho'  dull  States-man? 

[The  Preface  to  The  Devil  of  a  Wife,  1686.] 

Thomas  Brown,  about  1686. 

To  Mr.  Dryden  on  his  Conversion. 
Tray  tor  to  God,  and  rebel  to  thy  pen, 
Priest-ridden  poet,  perjur'd  son  of  Ben, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  4H 

If  ever  thou  prove  honest,  then  the  nation 
May  modestly  believe  Transubstantiation. 

[The  Works  of  Mr.  Thomas  Brown,  1730,  i,  127.] 

William  Winstanley,  1687. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson. 

This  renowned  Poet,  whose  Fame  surmounts  all  the  Elogies 
which  the  most  learned  Pen  can  bestow  upon  him,  was  born  in 
the  City  of  Westminster,  his  Mother  living  there  in  Hartshorn-lane, 
near  Chatingcioss,  where  she  married  a  Bricklayer  for  her  second 
Husband.     He  was  first  bred  in  a  private  School  in  St.  Martin' s- 
Church,    then   in    Westminster-School,   under   the    learned    Mr. 
Cambden,  as  he  himself  intimates  in  one  of  his  Epigrams. 
Cambden,  most  reverend  head,  to  whom  I  owe 
All  that  I  am  in  Arts,  all  that  I  know. 
How  nothings  that,  to  whom  my  Country  owes, 
The  great  renown  and  name  wherewith  she  goes. 

Under  this  learned  Schoolmaster  he  attained  to  a  good  degree  of 
learning,  and  was  statutably  admitted  in  St.  Jo/w's-Colledge  in 
Cambridge,  (as  many  years  after  incorporated  a  honorary  Member 
of  Christ-Church  in  Oxjord)  here  he  staid  but  some  small  time,  for 
want  of  maintainance;  for  if  there  be  no  Oyl  in  the  Lamp,  it  will 
soon  be  extinguish'd:  And  now,  as  he  had  quite  laid  aside  all 
thoughts  of  the  University,  he  betook  himself  to  the  Trade  of  his 
Father-in-law;  And  let  not  any  be  offended  herewith,  since  it  is 
more  commendable  to  work  in  a  lawful  Calling,  then  having  one 
not  to  use  it.  He  was  one  who  helped  in  the  building  of  the  new 
Structure  of  Lincolns-Inn,  where,  having  a  Trowel  in  his  hand, 
he  had  a  Book  in  his  pocket,  that  as  his  work  went  forward,  so 
his  study  went  not  backward. 

But  such  rare  Parts  as  he  had  could  be  no  more  hid,  than  the 
Sun  in  a  serene  day,  some  Gentlemen  pitying  such  rare  Endow 
ments  should  be  buried  under  the  rubbish  of  so  mean  a  Calling, 
did  by  their  bounty  manumise  him  freely  to  follow  his  own 
ingenious  inclinations.  Indeed  his  Parts  were  not  so  ready  to 
run  of  themselves,  as  able  to  answer  the  spur;  so  that  it  may  be 


412  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

truly  said  of  him,  that  he  had  an  elaborate  wit  wrought  out  by 
his  own  industry ;  yet  were  his  Repartees  for  the  most  part  very 
quick  and  smart,  and  which  savour'd  much  of  ingenuity,  of  which 
I  shall  give  you  two  instances. 

He  having  been  drinking  in  an  upper  room,  at  the  Feather  s- 
Tavern  in  Cheap-side,  as  he  was  coming  down  stairs,  his  foot 
slipping,  he  caught  a  fall,  and  tumbling  against  a  door,  beat  it 
open  into  a  room  where  some  gentlemen  were  drinking  Canary; 
recovering  his  feet,  he  said,  Gentlemen,  since  I  am  so  luckily  fallen 
into  your  company,  I  will  drink  with  you  before  I  go. 

He  used  very  much  to  frequent  the  Half -Moon-Tavern  in 
Alders  gate- street,  through  which  was  a  common  Thoroughfare;  he 
coming  late  that  way,  one  night,  was  denied  passage,  whereupon 
going  through  the  Sun-Tavern  a  little  after,  he  said, 

Since  that  the  Moon  was  so  unkind  to  make  me  go  about, 
The  Sun  henceforth   shall    take    my  Coin,  the   Moon  shall 
go  without. 

His  constant  humour  was  to  sit  silent  in  learned  Company,  and 
suck  in  (besides  Wine)  their  several  Humours  into  his  observation ; 
what  was  Ore  in  others,  he  was  able  to  refine  unto  himself. 

He  was  one,  and  the  chief  of  them,  in  ushering  forth  the  Book 
of  Coriats  Crudities,  writing  not  only  a  Character  of  the  Author, 
an  explanation  of  his  Frontispiece,  but  also  an  Acrostick  upon 
his  Name,  which  for  the  sutableness  of  it,  (tho'  we  have  written 
something  of  others  mock  Verses)  we  shall  here  insert  it.  ... 

[Winstanley's  account  of  Jonson  is  a  curious  patchwork  of 
what  earlier  writers  had  published,  mainly  Thomas  Fuller  in 
his  Worthies.  Since  this  material  has  already  been  included 
under  Thomas  Fuller,  1643-62,  it  is  here  omitted.] 

Yet  do  they  [Jonson's  plays]  every  one  of  them  far  excel  any 
of  the  English  ones  that  were  writ  before  him;  so  that  he  may 
be  truly  said  to  be  the  first  reformer  of  the  English  Stage,  as  he 
himself  more  truly  than  modestly  writes  in  his  commendatory 
Verses  of  his  Servants  Richard  Broom's  Comedy  of  the  Northern 
Lass. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  413 

Which  you  have  justly  gained  from  the  Stage, 

By  observation  of  those  Comick  Laws, 

Which  I,  your  Master,  first  did  teach  the  Age.     (Pp.  123-28.) 

*  *         *         * 
Francis  Beaumont  and  John  Fletcher. 

These  two  joyned  together,  made  one  of  the  happy  Triumvirate 
(the  other  two  being  Johnson  and  Shakespear)  of  the  chief 
Dramatick  Poets  of  our  Nation,  in  the  last  foregoing  Age; 
among  whom  there  might  be  said  to  be  a  symmetry  of  perfection, 
while  each  excelled  in  his  peculiar  way:  Ben  Johnson  in  his 
elaborate  pains  and  knowledge  of  Authors,  Shakespear  in  his 
pure  vein  of  wit,  and  natural  Poetick  height;  Fletcher  in  a 
Courtly  Elegance  and  Gentile  Familiarity  of  Style,  and  withal  a 
Wit  and  Invention  so  overflowing,  that  the  luxuriant  Branches 
thereof  were  frequently  thought  convenient  to  be  lopt  off  by 
Mr.  Beaumont;  which  two  joyn'ed  together,  like  Castor  and 
Pollux,  (most  happy  when  in  conjunction)  raised  the  English  to 
equal  the  Athenian  and  Roman  Theaters;  Beaumont  bringing 
the  Ballast  of  Judgment,  Fletcher  the  Sail  of  Phantasie,  but 
compounding  a  Poet  to  admiration.  ...  (P.  128.) 

*  *         *         * 
Thomas  Decker. 

Thomas  Decker,  a  great  pains- taker  in  the  Dramatick  strain, 
and  as  highly  conceited  of  those  pains  he  took;  a  high-flyer  in 
wit,  even  against  Ben  Johnson  himself,  in  his  Comedy,  call'd, 
The  untrussing  of  the  humorous  Poet.  (P.  137.) 

*  *         *         * 
Thomas  Randolph. 

...  He  was  by  Ben.  Johnson  adopted  for  his  Son,  and  that 
as  is  said  upon  this  occasion. 

Mr.  Randolph  having  been  at  London  so  long  as  that  he  might 
.  truly  have  had  a  parley  with  his  Empty  Purse,  was  resolved  to 
go  see  Ben.  Johnson  with  his  associates,  which  as  he  heard  at  a 
set- time  kept  a  Club  together  at  the  Devil-Tavern  near  Temple- 
Bar;  accordingly  at  the  time  appointed  he  went  thither,  but 
being  unknown  to  them,  and  wanting  Money,  which  to  an 


4H  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

ingenious  spirit  is  the  most  daunting  thing  in  the  World,  he 
peep'd  into  the  Room  where  they  were,  which  being  espied  by 
Ben.  Johnson,  and  seeing  him  in  a  Scholars  thredbare  habit, 
John  Bo-peep,  says  he,  come  in,  which  accordingly  he  did,  when 
immediately  they  began  to  rime  upon  the  meanness  of  his 
Clothes,  asking  him,  If  he  could  make  a  Verse?  and  withal  to 
call  for  his  Quart  of  Sack;  there  being  four  of  them,  he  immedi 
ately  thus  replied, 

I  John  Bo-peep,  to  you  four  sheep, 

With  each  one  his  good  fleece, 
If  that  you  are  willing  to  give  me  five  shilling, 

Tis  fifteen  pence  a  piece. 

By  Jesus,  quoth  Ben.  Johnson,  (his  usual  Oath)  I  believe  this 
is  my  Son  Randolph,  which  being  made  known  to  them,  he  was 
kindly  entertained  into  their  company,  and  Ben.  Johnson  ever 
after  called  him  Son.  (P.  143.) 

*         *         *         * 
Richard  Broome. 

Richard  Broome  was  a  Servant  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  a 
Servant  (saith  one)  suitable  to  such  a  Master;  having  an  excel 
lent  Vain  fitted  for  a  Comique  Strain,  and  both  natural  Parts 
and  Learning  answerable  thereunto;  though  divers  witty  only 
in  reproving,  say,  That  this  Broome  had  only  what  he  swept 
from  his  Master:  But  the  Comedies  he  Wrote,  so  well  received 
and  generally  applauded,  give  the  Lie  to  such  Detractors;  three 
of  which,  viz.  His  Northern  Lass,  The  Jovial  Crew,  and  Sparagus 
Garden,  are  little  inferior  if  not  equal  to  the  writings  of  Ben. 
Johnson  himself.  (P.  149.) 

[Lives  of  the  most  Famous  English  Poets,  1687.  There  are  also  several 
passing  allusions  to  Jonson,  of  no  special  interest;  cf.  pp.  108, 
132,  I35-] 

Anonymous,  1687. 

Mr.  Noy  the  Attorney  General,  making  a  Venison  Feast  in  a 
Tavern  where  Ben  Johnson  and  some  of  his  Companions  were 
Drinking,  and  he  having  a  mind  to  some  of  the  Venison,  wrote 
these  Verses,  and  sent  them  to  Mr.  Noy. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  415 

When  all  the  World  was  drown'd, 
No  Venison  could  be  found ; 
For  then  there  was  no  Park: 
Lo  here  we  sit, 
Without  e're  a  bit, 
Noy  has  it  all  in  his  Ark. 

For  the  ingenuity  of  which,  Mr.  Noy  sent  him  a  good  corner  of 
a  Pasty,  and  half  a  Dozen  Bottles  of  Sack  to  wash  it  down. 

At  another  time,  Ben  Johnson  intending  to  go  through  the 
Half  Moone  Tavern  in  Aldersgate  Street,  was  denied  entrance, 
the  Door  being  shut:   upon  which  he  made  these  Verses. 
Since  the  Half -Moon  is  so  unkind, 
to  make  me  go  about, 
The  Sun  my  Money  now  shall  take, 
the  Moon  shall  go  without. 

And  so  he -went  to  the  Sun  Tavern  at  Long  Lane  end,  forsaking 
the  Half-Moon  for  this  affront. 

*  [England's  Jests  Refin'd  and  Improved,  being  a  choice  Collection  of  the 
Merriest  Jests,  Smartest  Repartees,  Wittiest  Sayings,  and  most 
Notable  Butts,  1687;  ed.  by  J.  Ashton,  in  Humor,  Wit,  and  Satire  of 
the  Seventeenth  Century,  1883,  p.  318.] 

Aphra  Behn,  1687. 

.  .  .  Such  Encouragement  wou'd  inspire  the  Poets  with  new 
Arts  to  please,  and  the  Actors  with  Industry.  'Twas  this  that 
occasioned  so  many  Admirable  Plays  heretofore,  as  Shakespear's, 
Fletcher's  and  lohnson's,  and  'twas  this  alone  that  made  the 
Town  able  to  keep  so  many  Play-houses  alive,  who  now  cannot 
supply  one. 

[The  Emperor  of  the  Moon,  1687,  the  Dedication.] 

Martin  Clifford,  1687. 

MR.  DRYDEN, 

There  is  one  of  your  Virtues  which  I  cannot  forbear  to  anim 
advert  upon,  which  is  your  excess  of  Modesty;  When  you  tell 
us  in  your  Postscript  to  Granada,  That  Shakespear  is  below  the 
Dullest  Writer  of  Ours,  or  any  precedent  Age.  In  which  by  your 


416  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

favour,  you  Recede  as  much  from  your  own  Right,  as  you 
disparage  Almanzor,  because  he  is  yours,  in  preferring  Ben. 
Johnson's  Cethegus  before  him;  saying  in  your  Preface,  that  his 
Rodomontadoes  are  neither  so  irrational  as  the  others,  nor  so 
impossible  to  be  put  in  execution.  I'll  give  you  so  many  instances 
to  the  contrary,  as  shall  convince  you,  and  bring  you  over  to 
my  side.  .  .  . 

[Notes  upon  Mr.  Dryden's  Poems  in  Four  Letters,  1687,  p.  10.] 

Anonymous,  1688. 

When  in  a  Comick  sweetness  you  appear, 
Ben  Johnson's  humour  seems  revived  there. 
When  lofty  Passions  thunder  from  your  Pen, 
Methinks  I  hear  Great  Shakes  pear  once  again. 
But  what  do's  most  your  Poetry  commend? 
You  ev'n  begin  where  those  great  Wits  did  end. 

[By  "Philaster,  St.  John's  College";    prefixed  to  Poeticall  Recreations, 
1688,  sig.  A  6.] 

Edward  Howard,  1688. 

Of  which,  he  Chaucer,  Spencer,  much  beheld, 
And  where  their  Learned  Poems  most  excell'd. 
Tho'  words  now  obsolete  express  their  Flame, 
Like  Gemms  that  out  of  Fashon  value  Claim. 
Near  these  in  Statue  witty  Shakspere  stood, 
Whose  early  Plays  were  soonest  next  to  Good. 
And  Like  a  vast  Dramatick  Founder  show'd 
Bounties  of  Wit  from  his  large  Genius  flow'd. 
Whose  worth  was  by  this  Learned  [Polyaster]  duly  weigh'd, 
As  in  Effigie  there  he  stood  display'd. 
But  more  stupendious  to  his  Soul  appear'd 
Proportions  which  great  Johnsons  Form  declar'd, 
Whose  deep  Effigies  he  wish'd  longer  date 
Then  Polish'd  art  in  stone  cou'd  Celebrate. 
\Caroloiades,  or  The  Rebellion. of  Forty-one,  1689,  p.  137.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  417 

Thomas  Brown,  1688. 

I  have  Read  somewhere  in  Monsieur  Rapins  Reflections  Sur 
la  Poetique,  that  a  certain  Venetian  Nobleman,  Andrea  Naugeria 
by  Name,  was  wont  every  Year  to  Sacrifice  a  Martial  to  the 
Manes  of  Catullus:  In  imitation  of  this  frolic,  a  Celebrated 
Poet,  in  the  Preface  before  the  Spanish  Fryer,  is  pleased  to 
acquaint  the  World,  That  he  has  indignation  enough  to  burn  a 
Bussy  Damboys  annually  to  the  memory  of  Ben  Johnson.  (The 
Preface,  sig.  A  2  recto.) 


Crites.  But  pray  Mr.  Bays,  what  did  you  say  to  Shakespear, 
Johnson,  and  the  rest  of  them?  Methinks  your  new-settled 
Monarchy  should  stand  in  a  great  deal  of  danger,  as  long  as  these 
Authors  continued  in  any  respect  and  authority  among  the 
People. 

Bays.  To  prevent  Sir,  all  storms  that  might  have  issued 
from  that  quarter,  I  presently  set  me  up  an  Index  ex pur gator ius, 
by  the  virtue  of  which  I  so  castrated  these  grave  Old-fashioned 
Gentlemen,  so  disguised  their  true  features,  by  putting  them  in 
modern  apparel,  that  upon  the  Stage,  fe\v,  very  few  I  gad,  could 
distinguish  their  works  from  my  own  proper  Legitimate  produc 
tions.  Then  I  fulminated  Johnsons  affected  Style,  his  dull  way 
of  making  Love,  his  Thefts  and  mean  Characters:  Shakespears 
Ignorance,  long  Periods,  and  Barbarous  Language:  Fletchers 
want  of  a  Gentlemans  Education;  so  often,  you  do  observe  me 
Mr.  Crites,  that  scarce  one  in  a  hundred  had  the  assurance  to 
offer  one  good  word  in  their  behalf.  .  .  .  Finally,  I  owned 
my  self  to  be  Apollo's  Vicar  here  upon  Earth,  and  Homer's 
Successor  in  the  ancient  and  unerring  See  of  Parnassus.  That 
the  Decrees  of  Mr.  Bays  ought  to  be  observed  with  the  same 
deference  as  the  decrees  of  Apollo.  That  all  other  Writers  were 
to  be  judged  by  Mr.  Bays,  but  Mr.  Bays  was  only  accountable 
for  his  mistakes  to  Apollo  himself.  (P.  15.) 

[The  Reasons  of  Mr.  Bays   Changing  his  Religion.     Considered  in  a 
Dialogue  between  Crites,  Eugenius,  and  Mr.  Bayes,  1688.] 


28 


41 8  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Gerard  Langbaifie,  1688. 

But  before  I  quit  this  Paper,  I  desire  my  Readers  leave  to 
take  a  View  of  Plagiaries  in  general,  and  that  we  may  observe 
the  different  proceedings  between  the  Ancients  and  our  Modern 
Writers.  .  .  .  But  let  us  now  observe  how  these  Eminent  Men 
[Virgil,  Ovid,  and  Terence]  manage  what  they  borrow'd;  and 
then  compare  them  with  those  of  our  times.  First,  They  propos'd 
to  themselves  those  Authors  whose  Works  they  borrow'd  from, 
for  their  Model.  Secondly,  They  were  cautious  to  borrow  only 
what  they  found  beautiful  in  them,  and  rejected  the  rest.  .  .  . 
Thirdly,  They  plainly  confessed  what  they  borrow'd,  and  modest 
ly  ascrib'd  the  credit  of  it  to  the  Author  whence  'twas  originally 
taken.  .  .  .  Lastly,  Whatsoever  these  ancient  Poets  (particularly 
Virgil}  copyed  from  any  Author,  they  took  care  not  only  to 
alter  it  for  their  purpose;  but  to  add  to  the  beauty  of  it:  and 
afterwards  to  insert  it  so  handsomly  into  their  Poems,  (the  body 
and  Oeconomy  of  which  was  generally  their  own)  that  what  they 
borrowed,  seemed  of  the  same  Contexture  with  what  was  originally 
theirs.  So  that  it  might  be  truly  said  of  them;  Apparet  unde 
sumptum  sit,  aliud  tamen  quam  unde  sit,  apparet. 

If  we  now  on  the  other  side  examine  the  proceedings  of  our 
late  English  Writers,  we  shall  find  them  diametrically  opposite 
in  all  things.  Shakspear  and  Johnson  indeed  imitated  these 
Illustrious  Men  I  have  cited;  the  one  having  borrow'd  the 
Comedy  of  Errours  from  the  Menechmi  of  Plautus;  the  other  has 
made  use  not  only  of  him,  but  of  Horace,  Ovid,  Juvenal,  Salust, 
and  several  others,  according  to  his  occasions:  for  which  he  is 
commended  by  Mr.  Dryden,  as  having  thereby  beautified  our 
Language:  .  .  .  But  for  the  most  part  we  are  treated  far  other 
wise;  not  with  round  Roman  Wit,  as  in  Ben's  time,  but  with 
empty  French  Kickshaws,  which  yet  our  Poetical  Host's  serve 
up  to  us  for  Regales  of  their  own  Cookery. 
[Momus  Triumphans,  1688,  the  Preface.] 

William  Mountfort,  1688. 

Some  Care  then  must  be  taken,  that  may  save 
This  Dear,  my  First-begotten,  from  the  Grave: 


TO  BEN  JONSON  419 

Some  Friends  Advise,  like  Brother  Ben  declare, 
By  God  'tis  good,  deny't  the  Slave  that  dare. 
[Prologue  to  The  Injur'd  Lovers,  1688.] 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1688. 

If  all  this  stuff  has  not  quite  spoiled  your  taste, 
Pray  let  a  Comedy  once  more  be  graced : 
Which  does  not  monsters  represent,  but  men, 
Conforming  to  the  rules  of  Master  Ben. 
Our  author,  ever  having  him  in  view, 
At  humble  distance  would  his  steps  pursue. 
He  to  correct,  and  to  inform,  did  write: 
If  poets  aim  at  nought  but  to  delight, 
Fiddlers  have  to  the  bays  an  equal  right. 
[Prologue  to  The  Squire  of  Alsatia,  1688.] 

Thomas  Shadwell,  1689. 

Val[et].  I  hope,  you'll  grant  Mr.  Oldwit  is  a  fine,  facetious, 
witty,  old  Gentleman,  my  Lady  Fantast's  Husband? 

Wild[ish].  Almost  as  arrant  an  Ass,  as  thou  art.  He  is  a 
paltry  old-fashion'd  Wit,  and  Punner  of  the  last  Age;  that 
pretends  to  have  been  one  of  Ben  Johnson's  Sons,  and  to  have 
seen  Plays  at  the  Blackfryers. 


Oldw[it].  No,  Nature  has  made  you  a  Wit.  Why  do  you 
take  it  ill?  I  think  it  the  greatest  Honour  can  be  done  to  a 
Man.  I  my  self,  simple  as  I  stand  here,  was  a  Wit  in  the  last 
Age:  I  was  created  Ben  Johnson's  Son,  in  the  Apollo.  I  knew 
Fletcher,  my  Friend  Fletcher,  and  his  Maid  Joan:  Well,  I  shall 
never  forget  him;  I  have  supp'd  with  him,  at  his  House  on  the 
Bankside.  .  .  .  I  was  a  Critick  at  Blackfryers;  but  at  Cambridge, 
none  so  great  as  I  with  Jack  Cleveland:  But  Tom  Randolph  and 
I  were  Hand  and  Glove:  Tom  was  a  brave  Fellow;  the  most 
Natural  Poet! 

[Bury- Fair,  1689,  Act  I,  Scene  i.] 


420  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

John  Wilson,  1690. 

But  for  myself — for  once  ev'n  let  me  pass, 
And  tho'  the  face  mayn't  please  ye,  spare  th'  glass; 
Ye  can't  but  say,  I  made  the  Devil  an  ass! 

[Epilogue  to  Belphegor,  licensed  1690,  printed  1691.  Wilson's  indebt 
edness  to  Jonson's  The  Demi  is  an  Ass  is  shown  in  Ernst  Hollstein's 
Verhdltnis  von  Ben  Jonson's  "The  Devil  is  an  Ass"  und  John 
Wilson's  "Belphegor,  or  the  Marriage  of  the  Devil"  zu  Machiavelli' s 
Novelle  vom  Belfagor.] 

Thomas  D'Urfey,  1690. 

Where  Verse  has  not  the  power  to  Influence, 
What  method  ever  can  reform  the  Sence? 
What  would  a  Cato,  or  a  Virgil  be, 
Johnson,  or  Shakespeare,  to  the  Mobile? 
Or  how  would  Juvenal  appear  at  Court, 
That  writing  Truth  had  his  Bones  broken  for't? 
[A  New  Essay  In  Defence  of  Verse,  1690,  p.  5.] 

Thomas  D'Urfey,  1690. 

To  this  rare  place  where  Wit  is  taught,  [the  playhouse] 
The  Major  now  had  Collin  brought; 
The  House  was  Peopled  with  all  sorts, 
The  Cities  product  and  the  Courts, 
An  Ancient  Comick  Piece  they  knew, 
Intitld  the  Fair  of  Bartholomew, 
Collin  first  thought  as  he  came  in, 
It  had  a  Conventicle  bin, 
And  that  mistaking  of  the  day, 
The  Major  brought  him  there  to  pray; 
He  saw  each  Box  with  Beauty  crown'd, 
And  Pictures  deck  the  Structure  round ; 
Ben,  Shakespear,  and  the  learned  Rout, 
With  Noses  some,  and  some  without. 
[Collin's  Walk  through  London  and  Westminster,  1690,  p.  148.] 

Anonymous,  1690. 

When  this  is  brought  to  pass.  I  am  afraid 
That  in  a  Play-house  I  shall  dye  a  Maid; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  421 

That  Miracles  don't  cease,  and  I  shall  see 
Some  Players  Martyrs  for  their  Honesty. 

/.  H. the  greatest  Bigot  of  the  Nation, 

And  see  him  burn  for  Transubstantiation. 
Or  hope  to  see,  from  such  a  Mongrel  breed, 
Wit  that  the  Godlike  Shakespear  shall  exceed; 
Or  what  has  dropt  from  Fletcher's  fluent  Pen, 
Our  this  days  Author,  or  the  Learned  Ben. 

[Epilogue  to  Thomas  Betterton's  alteration  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Prophetess,  1690.] 

Thomas  Brown,  1690. 

As  the  peevish  old  huncks  in  the  silent  Woman  hir'd  him  a 
House  as  far  from  the  rattling  of  Coaches  as  he  cou'd  meet  with, 
so  I  have  done  the  same  in  relation  to  a  Church,  and  you  might 
as  soon  wheedle  Ben  Johnson's  Morose  if  he  were  alive  again 
into  the  Wits  Coffee-House,  as  perswade  me  now  into  any  of 
your  Churches. 

[The  Late  Converts  Exposed:    or  the  Reasons  of  Mr.  Bays's  Changing 
his  Religion:  Part  the  Second,  1690,  p.  5.] 

John  Dryden,  1690. 

How's  this?   you  cry:  an  actor  write? — we  know  it; 
But  Shakespeare  was  an  actor,  and  a  poet. 
Has  not  great  Jonson's  learning  often  failed? 
But  Shakespeare's  greater  genius  still  prevailed. 
[Prologue  to  Joseph  Harris's  The  Mistakes,  1690.] 

William  Mountfort,  1691. 

Indifferent  Authors  in  most  Ages  have  been  incourag'd  and 
preserv'd  under  the  Clemency  of  the  Nobility,  in  hopes  that 
they  might  be  better:  But  the  severity  of  our  Wits  would  have 
the  first  Plays  which  are  now  written,  equal  to  the  best  of  Ben 
Johnson,  or  Shakespear:  And  yet  they  do  not  shew  that  esteem 
for  their  Works  which  they  pretend  to,  or  else  are  not  so  good 
Judges  as  they  would  be  thought:  When  we  can  see  the  Town 
throng  to  a  Farce,  and  Hamlet  not  bring  Charges:  But  notwith- 


422  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

standing  they  will  be  Criticks,  and  will  scarce  give  a  man  leave 
to  mend. 

[Greenwich-Park,  1691;   the  Dedication.] 

William  Mountfort,  1691. 
But  Virtue,  tho'  she  suffer'd  long,  at  last 
Was  Crown'd  with  a  reward  for  what  was  past; 
The  honest  thinking  Heathen  shew'd  the  way, 
And  handed  Down  the  Moral  call'd  a  Play: 
Old  Ben.  and  Shake  spear  copied  what  they  writ, 
Then  Downright  Satyr  was  accounted  wit; 
The  Fox  and  Alchymist  expos 'd  the  Times, 
The  Persons  then  was  loaded  with  their  Crimes; 
But  for  the  space  of  Twenty  years  and  more, 
You've  hiss'd  this  way  of  Writing  out  of  door,       ?• 
And  kick  and  winch  when  we  but  touch  the  sore.j 
But  as  some  Fashions  long  since  useless  grown, 
Are  now  Reviv'd  and  all  the  Mode  o'  th'  Town. 
Why  mayn't  the  Antient  way  of  Writing  please 
And  in  its  turn  meet  with  the  same  Success? 

{Prologue  to  King  Edward  the  Third,  with  the  Fall  of  Mortimer  Earl  of 
March,  1691.] 

William  Tunstall,  1691. 

To  my  Ingenious  Friend  Mr.  Heyrick,  Author  of 

the  Submarine  Voyage. 
Long  I  in  darkness,  by  false  Meteors  led, 
Have  blindly  follow'd  Truth,  that  from  me  fled: 
Long  have  pursu'd  the  harsh  and  rugged  Road, 
Where  Shakespear  and  Great  Ben  before  me  trod : 

Yet  now,  Dear  Friend,  in  vain  I  find, 
I  did  th'  Infatuating  Fire  pursue; 

It  onely  did  amuse  my  Mind, 
And  Me  thro  Mists  and  Labyrinths  drew: 
Dully  thro  thick  and  thin  I  wander'd  on, 
O're  Denham's,  Suckling's,  Waller's  Poems  ran: 

And  vainly  thought  myself  well  Blest, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  423 

When  I  a  while  in  CleavelancT s  Shade  could  rest ; 
And  at  his  Fountain  quench  my  Thirst: 
[Prefixed  to  Thomas  Heyrick's  Miscellany  Poems,  1691.] 

Anonymous,  1691. 

Question]  j.  Which  is  the  best  Poem  that  ever  was  made  and 
who  in  your  Opinion,  deserves  the  Title  of  the  best  Poet  that  ever 
was? 

Ans[wer}.  .  .  .  But  since  we  can't  go  through  all  the  World, 
let's  look  home  a  little.  Grandsire  Chaucer,  in  spite  of  the  Age, 
was  a  Man  of  as  much  wit,  sence  and  honesty  as  any  that  have 
writ  after  him.  Father  Ben  was  excellent  at  Humour,  Shakespear 
deserves  the  Name  of  sweetest,  which  Milton  gave  him. — Spencer 
was  a  noble  poet,  his  Fairy-Queen  an  excellent  piece  of  Morality, 
Policy,  History.  Davenant  had  a  great  genius.  Too  much  can't 
be  said  of  Mr.  Coley.  Milton's  Paradise  lost,  and  some  other 
poems  of  his  will  never  be  equalled.  Waller  is  the  most  correct 

Poet  we  have. 

*         *         *         * 

Question]  j.  Do  the  Modern  English  Dramatique  Writers  excell 
most,  or  those  of  the  last  age? 

Ans[wer\.  Those  who  first  brought  our  Stage  any  thing  near 
the  Ancients,  as  Shakespear,  Johnson,  and  some  few  more,  had 
not  only  most  of  'em  a  great  Genius  of  their  own  to  shape  and 
mould  what  they  found,  but  a  vast  stock  of  Matter  to  set  up 
with,  and  therefore  no  wonder  they  were  such  great  Traders. 

[The  Athenian  Mercury,  Vol.  ii,  No.  14,  Saturday,  July  n,  1691,  Vol.  v, 
No.  i,  Tuesday,  December  I,  1691.  According  to  an  advertise 
ment,  "All  Persons  whatever  may  be  resolved  gratis  in  any  Question 
that  their  own  satisfaction  or  Curiosity  shall  prompt  'em  to,  if 
they  send  their  Questions  to"  .  .  .] 

Anonymous,  1691. 

To  Mr.  T.  D.  Sir  Critick  Catcall  sends  Greeting. 

The  Indisposition  of  the  Laureat  is  like  to  spill  as  much 
Blood  as  Ink  among  you;  for  from  the  Modern  Playwriters,  to 
the  high  toppers  of  the  Profession,  I  expect  to  find  you  all  at 
Daggers  drawing;  should  he  be  so  civil  to  you  to  leave  us  in 


424  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

haste  (/  hope  he  will  not )  to  make  a  visit  to  his  Brothers  Terence, 
and  Ben  Johnson  in  the  Elizian  Fields.     (Sig.  A  verso.) 

*  *         *         * 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  as  Mr.  Dryden  sacrifices  a  Bussy  d' 
Ambois  to  the  memory  of  Ben  Johnson,  I  sacrifice  one  of  these 
[poor  books]  yearly  to  the  memory  of  Shakespear,  Butler,  and 
Oldham.  (P.  4.) 

[Wit  for  Money:    or  Poet  Stutter:   A  Dialogue  between  Smith,  Johnson, 
and  Poet  Stutter,  1691.] 

Gerard  Langbaine,  1691. 

I  am  only  sorry  that  my  Power  is  not  equal  to  the  zeal  I  have 
for  the  memory  of  those  Illustrious  Authors,  the  Classicks,  as 
well  as  those  later  Writers  of  our  own  Nation,  Mr.  Shakespear , 
Fletcher,  Johnson,  Cowley,  &c.  that  I  might  be  capable  of  doing 
them  better  Service,  in  vindicating  Their  Fame,  and  in  exposing 
our  Modern  Plagiaries,  by  detecting  Part  of  their  Thefts.  (Pref 
ace,  sig.  a4.) 

*  *         *         * 

The  Author  [Robert  Baron]  seems  to  have  propos'd  for  his 
pattern  the  famous  Catiline,  writ  by  Ben  Johnson :  and  has  in  sev 
eral  places  not  only  hit  the  model  of  his  Scenes:  but  even  imitated 
the  Language  tolerably,  for  a  young  writer.  Whoever  pleases 
to  compare  the  Ghost  of  Emirhamze-mirza,  with  that  of  Scilla, 
may  easily  see  his  Imitation,  but  that  being  too  long  to  tran 
scribe,  I  shall  set  down  the  first  words  of  Catiline,  in  that  admir 
able  Play;  and  afterwards  those  of  Abbas.  (P.  21.) 

*  *         *         * 

This  Author  [Richard  Brome]  ....  tho'  of  mean  Extraction 
(being  Servant  to  the  fam'd  Ben  Johnson)  Writ  himself  into  much 
credit.  ...  As  to  his  worth  in  Comick  Writing,  it  is  not  only 
asserted  by  the  Testimony  of  several  Poets  of  that  Age,  in  their 
commendatory  Verses  before  many  of  his  Plays,  as  Shirley,  Decker, 
Ford,  Chamberlain,  Sr.  Aston  Cockain,  Alexander  Brome,  and 
others:  but  even  Ben  Johnson  himself  (who  was  not  over-lavish 
of  Praise)  bestowed  the  following  Copy  on  his  Northern  Lass, 


TO  BEN  JONSON  425 

which  will  weigh  against  all  the  Calumnies  of  his  Enemies.  .  »  . 
In  imitation  of  his  Master  Mr.  Johnson,  he  studied  Men  and 
Humor,  more  than  Books;  and  his  Genius  affecting  Comedy, 
his  Province  was  more  Observation  than  Study.  (P.  33.) 

*  *         *         * 

Sr.  John  Suckling,  that  gay  Wit,  who  delighted  to  Railly  the 
best  Poets,  and  spar'd  not  Ben  Johnson  himself.  (P.  44.) 

*  *         *         * 

To  speak  of  his  [William  Carthwright's]  Poetry,  there  needs 
no  other  Character  of  it  in  general,  then  that  the  ablest  Judge  of 
Poetry  at  that  time,  I  mean  Ben  Johnson,  said  with  some  Passion, 
My  Son  Carthwright  writes  all  like  a  Man.  (P.  53.) 

*  *         *         * 

I  can  give  him  [George  Chapman]  no  greater  Commendation, 
than  that  he  was  so  intimate  with  the  famous  Johnson,  as  to 
engage  in  a  Triumvirate  with  Him,  and  Marston  in  a  Play  called 
Eastward-Hoe:  a  Favour  which  the  haughty  Ben  could  seldome 
be  perswaded  to.  ...  of  all  which  his  Tragedy  of  Bussy  d'Am- 
boise  has  the  Preference.  I  know  not  how  Mr.  Dryden  came 
to  be  so  possest  with  Indignation  against  this  Play,  as  to  resolve 
to  burn  One  annually  to  the  Memory  of  Ben  Johnson:  but  I 
know  very  well  that  there  are  some  who  allow  it  a  just  Com 
mendation.  (P.  57.) 

*  *         *         * 

Thomas  Decker. 

A  Poet  that  liv'd  in  the  Reign  of  King  James  the  First,  and 
was  Contemporary  with  that  admirable  Laureat,  Mr.  Benjamin 
Johnson.  He  was  more  famous  for  the  contention  he  had  with 
him  for  the  Bays,  than  for  any  great  Reputation  he  had  gain'd 
by  his  own  Writings.  ...  Of  those  [plays]  which  he  writ  alone, 
I  know  none  of  much  Esteem,  except  The  Untrussing  the  Humour 
ous  Poet,  and  that  chiefly  on  account  of  the  Subject  of  it,  which 
was  the  Witty  Ben  Johnson.  (P.  121.) 

*  *         *         * 

This  Play  [Satiromastix]  was  writ  on  the  occasion  of  Ben 
Johnson's  Poetaster,  where  under  the  Title  of  Chrispinus,  Ben 


426  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

lash'd  our  Author,  which  he  endeavour'd  to  retaliate  by  Un- 
trussing  Ben  under  the  Title  of  Horace  Junior.  This  Play  is 
far  inferior  to  that  of  Mr.  Johnson,  as  indeed  his  abilities  in 
Poetry  were  no  ways  comparable  to  his:  but  this  may  be  said 
in  our  Author's  behalf,  that  'twas  not  only  lawful,  but  excusable 
for  him  to  defend  himself.  (P.  123.) 

But  had  he  [Dryden]  only  extended  his  Conquests  over  the 
French  Poets,  I  had  not  medled  in  this  Affair  .  .  .  but  when  I 
found  him  flusht  with  his  Victory  over  the  great  Scudery  .  .  . 
and  not  content  with  Conquests  abroad,  like  another  Julius 
Caesar,  turning  his  Arms  upon  his  own  Country;  and  as  if  the 
proscription  of  his  Contemporaries  Reputation,  were  not  sufficient 
to  satiate  his  implacable  thirst  after  Fame,  endeavouring  to 
demolish  the  Statues  and  Monuments  of  his  Ancestors,  the 
Works  of  those  his  Illustrious  Predecessors,  Shakespear,  Fletcher, 
and  Johnson:  I  was  resolv'd  to  endeavour  the  rescue  and  preser 
vation  of  those  excellent  Trophies  of  Wit,  by  raising  the  Posse- 
comitatus  upon  this  Poetick  Almanzor,  to  put  a  stop  to  his  Spoils 
upon  his  own  Country-men.  (P.  133.) 

*         *         *         * 

As  to  the  great  Ben  Johnson  he  [Dryden]  deals  not  much 
better  with  him,  though  he  would  be  thought  to  admire  him; 
and  if  he  praise  him  in  one  Page,  he  wipes  it  out  in  another: 
thus  tho'  he  calls  him  "  The  most  Judicious  of  Poets,  and  Inimit 
able  Writer,  yet,  he  says,  his  Excellency  lay  in  the  low  Characters 
of  Vice,  and  Folly.  When  at  any  time  (says  he)  Ben  aim'd  at 
Wit  in  the  stricter  sence,  that  is  sharpness  of  Conceit,  he  was 
forc'd  to  borrow  from  the  Ancients,  (as  to  my  Knowledge  he 
did  very  much  from  Plautus:}  or  when  he  trusted  himself  alone, 
often  fell  into  meanness  of  expression.  Nay  he  was  not  free 
from  the  lowest  and  most  groveling  Kind  of  Wit,  which  we  call 
Clenches;  of  which  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  is  infinitely  full, 
and  which  is  worse,  the  wittiest  Persons  in  the  Dramma  speak 
them." 

These  are  his  own  Words,  and  his  Judgment  of  these  three 
Great  Men  in  particular,  now  take  his  Opinion  of  them  all  in 


TO   BEN  JONSON  427 

general,  which  is  as  follows:  "But  Malice  and  Partiality  set 
apart,  let  any  Man,  who  understands  English,  read  diligently 
the  Works  of  Shakespear  and  Fletcher;  and  I  dare  undertake 
that  he  will  find  in  every  Page,  either  some  Solecisme  in  Speech, 
or  some  notorious  flaw  in  Sence."  In  the  next  Page,  speaking 
of  their  Sence  and  Language,  he  says,  "I  dare  almost  challenge 
any  Man  to  shew  me  a  Page  together  which  is  correct  in  both. 
As  for  Ben  Johnson  I  am  loath  to  name  him,  because  he  is  a 
most  judicious  Author,  yet  he  often  falls  into  these  Errors." 
Speaking  of  their  Wit,  he  gives  it  this  Character,  "I  have  always 
acknowledg'd  the  Wit  of  our  Predecessors,  with  all  the  Veneration 
that  becomes  me;  but  I  am  sure,  their  Wit  was  not  that  of 
Gentlemen;  there  was  ever  somewhat  that  was  Ill-bred  and 
Clownish  in  it:  and  which  confest  the  Conversation  of  the 
Authors."  Speaking  of  the  advantage  which  acrues  to  our 
Writing,  from  Conversation,  he  says,  "In  the  Age  wherein  those 
Poets  liv'd,  there  was  less  of  Gallantry  than  in  ours;  neither  did 
they  keep  the  best  Company  of  theirs.  Their  Fortune  has  been 
much  like  that  of  Epicurus,  in  the  Retirement  of  his  Gardens: 
to  live  almost  unknown,  and  to  be  Celebrated  after  their  Decease. 
I  cannot  find  that  any  of  them  were  Conversant  in  Courts, 
except  Ben  Johnson:  and  his  Genius  lay  not  so  much  that  way, 
as  to  make  an  Improvement  by  it."  He  gives  this  Character 
of  their  Audiences;  "They  knew  no  better,  and  therefore  were 
satisfied  with  what  they  brought.  Those  who  call  theirs  The 
Golden  Age  of  Poetry,  have  only  this  Reason  for  it,  that  they  were 
then  content  with  Acorns,  before  they  knew  the  use  of  Bread; 
or  that  AXis  dpvos  was  become  a  Proverb." 

These  are  Errors  which  Mr.  Dry  den  has  found  out  in  the 
most  Correct  Dramatick  Poets  of  the  last  Age,  and  says  in 
defence  of  our  present  Writers,  that  if  they  reach  not  some 
Excellencies  of  Ben  Johnson,  yet  at  least  they  are  above  that 
Meanness  of  Thought  which  he  has  tax'd,  and  which  is  so  frequent 
in  him.  (Pp.  136-38.) 

*         *         *         * 

To  come  lastly  to  Ben  Johnson,  who  (as  Mr.  Dryden  affirms 
has  borrow'd  more  from  the  Ancients  than  any:  I  crave  leave 


428  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

to  say  in  his  behalf,  that  our  late  Laureat  has  far  outdone  him 
in  Thefts,  proportionable  to  his  Writings:    and  therefore  he  is 
guilty  of  the  highest  Arrogance,  to  accuse  another  of  a  Crime, 
for  which  he  is  most  of  all  men  liable  to  be  arraign'd. 
Quis  tulerit  Gracchos  de  seditione  querentes? 

I  must  further  alledge  that  Mr.  Johnson  in  borrowing  from 
the  Ancients,  has  only  follow'd  the  Pattern  of  the  great  Men  of 
former  Ages,  Homer,  Virgil,  Ovid,  Horace,  Plautus,  Terence, 
Seneca,  &c.  all  which  have  imitated  the  Example  of  the  indus 
trious  Bee,  which  sucks  Honey  from  all  sorts  of  Flowers,  and 
lays  it  up  in  a  general  Repository.  'Twould  be  actum  agere  to 
repeat  what  is  known  to  all  Learned  Men;  that  there  was  an 
Illiad  written  before  that  of  Homer,  which  Aristotle  mentions; 
and  from  which  .  .  .  Homer  is  supposed  to  have  borrow'd  his 
Design.  ...  I  could  enumerate  more  Instances,  but  these  are 
sufficient  Precedents  to  excuse  Mr.  Johnson. 

Permit  me  to  say  farther  in  his  behalf,  That  if  in  imitation 
of  these  illustrious  Examples,  and  Models  of  Antiquity,  he  has 
borrow'd  from  them,  as  they  from  each  other;  yet  that  he 
attempted,  and  as  some  think,  happily  succeeded  in  his  Endeav 
ours  of  Surpassing  them:  insomuch  that  a  certain  Person  of 
Quality  makes  a  Question,  "Whether  any  of  the  Wit  of  the 
La  tine  Poets  be  more  Terse  and  Eloquent  in  their  Tongue,  than 
this  Great  and  Learned  Poet  appears  in  ours." 

Whether  Mr.  Dryden,  who  has  likewise  succeeded  to  admiration 
in  this  way,  or  Mr.  Johnson  have  most  improv'd,  and  best 
advanc'd  what  they  have  borrow'd  from  the  Ancients,  I  shall 
leave  to  the  decision  of  the  abler  Criticks :  only  this  I  must  say, 
in  behalf  of  the  later,  that  he  has  no  ways  endeavour'd  to  conceal 
what  he  has  borrow'd,  as  the  former  has  generally  done.  Nay, 
in  his  Play  called  Sejanus  he  has  printed  in  the  Margent  through 
out,  the  places  from  whence  he  borrow'd:  the  same  he  has 
practic'd  in  several  of  his  Masques,  (as  the  Reader  may  find  in 
his  Works;)  a  Pattern,  which  Mr.  Dryden  would  have  done  well 
to  have  copied,  and  had  thereby  sav'd  me  the  trouble  of  the 
following  Annotations. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  429 

There  is  this  difference  between  the  Proceedings  of  these  Poets, 
that  Mr.  Johnson  has  by  Mr.  Dryderis  Confession  Designed  his 
Plots  himself;  whereas  I  know  not  any  One  Play,  whose  Plot 
may  be  said  to  be  the  Product  of  Mr.  Dry  den's  own  Brain. 
When  Mr.  Johnson  borrow'd,  'twas  from  the  Treasury  of  the 
Ancients,  which  is  so  far  from  any  diminution  of  his  Worth, 
that  I  think  it  is  to  his  Honor;  at  least-wise  I  am  sure  he  is 
justified  by  his  Son  Carthwright,  in  the  following  Lines: 

What  tho'  thy  searching  Muse  did  rake  the  dust  .  ,  . 

Give  me  leave  to  say  a  word,  or  two,  in  Defence  of  Mr.  John 
son's  way  of  Wit,  which  Mr.  Dryden  calls  Clenches. 

There  have  been  few  great  Poets  which  have  not  propos'd 
some  Eminent  Author  for  their  Pattern.  .  .  .'Mr.  Johnson 
propos'd  Plautus  for  his  Model,  and  not  only  borrow'd  from  him, 
but  imitated  his  way  of  Wit  in  English.  There  are  none  who 
have  read  him,  but  are  acquainted  with  his  way  of  playing  with 
Words.  .  .  .  Nor  might  this  be  the  sole  Reason  for  Mr.  Johnson's 
Imitation,  for  possibly  'twas  his  Compliance  with  the  Age  that 
induc'd  him  to  this  way  of  writing,  it  being  then  as  Mr.  Dryden 
observes  'the  Mode  of  Wit,  the  Vice  of  the  Age,  and  not  Ben 
Johnson's:  and  besides  Mr.  Dryden' s  taxing  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
for  playing  with  his  Words,  I  may  add  that  I  find  it  practis'd  by 
several  Dramatick  Poets,  who  were  Mr.  Johnson's  Cotempo- 
raries.  .  .  . 

As  to  his  Reflections  on  this  Triumvirate  in  general:  I  might 
easily  prove,  that  his  Improprieties  in  Grammar,  are  equal  to 
theirs:  and  that  He  himself  has  been  guilty  of  Solecisms  in 
Speech,  and  Flaws  in  Sence,  as  well  as  Shakespear,  Fletcher,  and 
Johnson.  (Pp.  145-50.) 

*         *         *         * 

I  am  now  arriv'd  at  a  brace  of  Authors,  [Beaumont  &  Fletcher] 
who  like  the  Dioscuri,  Castor  and  Pollux,  succeeded  in  Con 
junction  more  happily  than  any  Poets  of  their  own,  or  this  Age, 
to  the  reserve  of  the  Venerable  Shakespear,  and  the  Learned  and 
Judicious  Johnson.  ...  To  speak  first  of  Mr.  Beaumont,  he  was 
Master  of  a  good  Wit,  and  a  better  Judgment;  he  so  admirably 


430  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

well  understood  the  Art  of  the  Stage,  that  even  Johnson  himself 
thought  it  no  disparagement  to  submit  his  Writings  to  his 
Correction.  What  a  great  Veneration  Ben  had  for  him,  is 
evident  by  those  Verses  he  writ  to  him  when  living.  (P.  203.) 

*  *         *         * 

Our  Author  [Peter  Haustead]  seems  to  me  to  be  much  of  the 
Humor  of  Ben  Johnson,  (whose  greatest  weakness  was  that  he 
could  not  bear  Censure;)  and  has  so  great  a  Value  for  Ben's 
Writings,  that  his  Scene  between  Love-all,  Mungrel,  and  Hammer- 
shin,  Act  3.  Sc.  7  is  copy'd  from  that  (in  Johnson's  Play  called 
The  Silent  Woman,)  between  True-Wit,  Daw,  and  La-fool,  Act.  4. 

Sc.  5.     (P- 245.) 

*  *         *         * 

Benjamin  Johnson. 

I  have  already  drawn  some  strokes  of  this  Great  Man's  Charac 
ter,  in  my  Defence  of  him  against  the  Attempts  of  Mr.  Dry  den; 
and  therefore  shall  less  need  to  make  a  curious  and  exact  Descrip 
tion  of  all  his  Excellencies;  which  otherwise  are  very  Great, 
Noble,  and  Various;  and  have  been  remark'd  in  parcells  by 
several  Hands,  but  exceed  my  small  Capacity  to  collect  them  into 
one  full  View.  I  shall  therefore  rather  let  them  lye  dispers'd,  as 
Scaliger  did  Virgil's  Praises,  thro'  his  whole  Book  of  Poetry; 
contenting  my  self  at  present  with  giving  the  Reader  an  Account 
of  the  private  Occurrencies  of  his  life. 

To  begin  then  with  his  Nativity:  He  was  born  in  the  City  of 
Westminster]  and  tho'  he  sprang  from  mean  Parents,  yet  his 
Admirable  Parts  have  made  him  more  Famous  than  those  of  a 
more  Conspicuous  Extraction.  Nor  do  I  think  it  any  Diminution 
to  him,  that  he  was  Son-in-law  to  a  Bricklayer,  and  work'd  at 
that  Trade ;  since  if  we  take  a  Survey  of  the  Records  of  Antiquity, 
we  shall  find  the  Greatest  Poets  of  the  meanest  Birth]  and  most 
lyable  to  the  Inconveniencies  of  Life.  .  .  . 

He  was  Bred  first  at  a  Private-School,  in  St.  Martin's  Church, 
then  plac'd  at  Westminster,  under  the  Famous  Mr.  Cambden,  (to 
whom  in  Gratitude  he  dedicated  his  Fourteenth  Epigram)  after 
wards  he  was  sent  to  Saint  John's  Colledge  in  Cambridge;  from 
thence  he  remov'd  to  Oxford,  and  was  enter'd  of  Christ-Church 


TO  BEN  JONSON  431 

Colledge;  where  in  the  Year  1619,  (as  Mr.  Wood  says)  he  took 
his  Master  of  Arts  Degree:  tho'  Dr.  Fuller  says,  "He  continu'd 
there  but  few  Weeks,  for  want  of  Maintenance,  being  fain  to 
return  to  the  Trade  of  his  Father-in-law,"  where  he  assisted  in 
the  New  Building  of  Lincolns  Inn,  with  a  Trowel  in  his  Hand, 
and  a  Book  in  his  Pocket.  But  this  English  Maro,  was  not  long 
before  he  found  a  Maecenas  and  a  Varus,  to  manumit  him  from 
an  Employment  so  painful,  and  furnisht  him  with  means  to 
enjoy  his  Muse  at  liberty,  in  private.  'Twas  then  that  he  writ 
his  Excellent  Plays,  and  grew  into  Reputation  with  the  most 
Eminent  of  our  Nobility  and  Gentry.  'Twas  then,  that  Carth- 
wright,  Randolph,  and  others  of  both  Universities,  sought  his 
Adoption;  and  gloried  more  in  his  Friendship,  and  the  Title  of 
his  Sons,  than  in  their  own  Well-deserv'd  Characters.  Neither 
did  he  less  love,  or  was  less  belov'd  by  the  Famous  Poets  of  his 
Time,  Shakspear,  Beaumont,  and  Fletcher:  witness  his  Copy 
which  he  writ  on  Shakspear,  after  his  Death,  and  his  Verses  to 
Fletcher  when  living. 

He  was  a  Man  of  a  very  free  Temper,  and  withal  blunt,  and 
somewhat  haughty  to  those,  that  were  either  Rivals  in  Fame,  or 
Enemies  to  his  Writings :  (witness  his  Poetaster,  wherein  he  falls 
upon  Decker,  and  his  answer  to  Dr.  Gill,  who  writ  against  his 
Magnetick  Lady,}  otherwise  of  a  good  Sociable  Humour,  when 
amongst  his  Sons  and  Friends  in  the  Apollo:  from  whose  Laws 
the  Reader  may  possibly  better  judge  of  his  Temper;  a  Copy  of 
which  I  have  transcrib'd  for  the  Learn 'd  Readers  perusal.  .  .  . 

As  to  his  Poetry,  I  dare  not  pretend  to  give  a  Judgment  on  it, 
it  deserving  somewhat  above  what  my  faint  Praise  can  reach,  or 
describe:  therefore  those  who  would  be  better  satisfy'd  must  have 
recourse  to  his  Character  drawn  by  Dr.  Fuller,  and  Mr.  Anthony 
Wood  in  Prose,  and  by  Mr.  Carthwright,  and  the  late  Mr.  Oldham 
in  Verse;  to  the  foregoing,  I  might  add  Mr.  Dryden's  Dramatick 
Essay,  which  had  it  been  writ  after  his  Postscript  to  Granada, 
might  have  aton'd  for  that  unbecoming  Character,  and  had 
serv'd  for  a  Palinode;  but  since  he  has  not  that  I  know  of  thought 
fit  to  retract  it,  give  me  leave  to  insert  an  old  Copy  of  Verses, 


432  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

which  seems  to  wipe  off  the  Accusations  of  Mr.  Johnson's  Enemies. 
[Here  Langbaine  quotes  the  Latin  verses  by  Charles  Fitzgeoffrey, 
1601.].  .  . 

I  might  here  appositely  enough  bring  in  a  pleasant  Story  or 
two  of  Ben.  Johnson's,  as  Instances  of  his  Debonaire  Humor  and 
Readiness  at  Repartee,  did  I  not  fear  to  be  condemn'd  by  Mr. 
Dryden,  and  reckon'd  by  him  and  his  admirers,  in  the  number  of 
those  grave  Gentlemen,  whose  Memory  (he  says)  is  the  only 
Plea  for  their  being  Wits:  for  this  reason  I  shall  forbear,  and 
hasten  to  give  an  Account  of  his  Works. 

He  has  writ  above  fifty  several  Pieces,  which  we  may  rank 
under  the  Species  of  Dramatick  Poetry;  of  which  we  shall  give 
an  Account  in  Order,  beginning  with  one  of  his  best  Comedies, 
viz. 

Alchymist,  a  Comedy  .  .  . 

Bartholomew  Fair,  .  .  .  This  play  has  frequently  appear'd  on 
the  Stage  since  the  Restoration,  with  great  applause. 

Catiline  his  Conspiracy.  .  .  .  This  play  is  still  in  Vogue  on  the 
Stage,  and  always  presented  with  success.  .  .  . 

Every  Man  in  his  Humour.  .  .  .  This  Play  has  been  reviv'd 
since  the  Civil  Wars,  and  was  receiv'd  with  general  Applause. 
There  is  a  new  Epilogue  writ  for  this  Play,  the  latter  part  of 
which  is  spoken  by  Ben  Johnson's  Ghost.  [See  the  entry  under 
"Charles  Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset,  1675."] 

Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour  ....  This  Play  was  reviv'd  at 
the  Theatre-Royal,  in  the  Year  1675,  at  which  time  a  new  Pro 
logue,  and  Epilogue  were  spoken  by  Jo.  Heyns,  which  were 
written  by  Mr.  Duffet.  See  his  Poems  8°.  pag.  72.  &c.  This  is 
accounted  an  excellent  Old  Comedy.  .  .  . 

Magnetick  Lady.  .  .  .  This  Play  is  generally  esteem'd  an 
Excellent  Play:  tho'  in  those  days  it  found  some  Enemies.  .  .  . 

Poetaster.  ...  I  have  already  spoken  of  this  Play  in  the 
Account  of  Decker's  Satyromastix;  and  I  must  further  add,  I 
heartily  wish  for  our  Author's  Reputation,  that  he  had  not  been 
the  Agressor  in  this  Quarrel;  but  being  altogether  ignorant  of 
the  Provocations  given  him,  I  must  suspend  my  Judgment,  and 


TO  BEN  JONSON  433 

leave  it  to  better  Judges  to  determine  the  Controversy. 

Sejanus's  Fall.  .  .  .  This  Play  is  generally  commended  by  all 
Lovers  of  Poetry. 

Silent  Woman.  .  .  .  This  Play  is  Accounted  by  all,  One  of  the 
best  Comedies  we  have  extant;  and  those  who  would  know 
more,  may  be  amply  satisfied  by  the  perusal  of  the  judicious 
Examen  of  this  Play  made  by  Mr.  Dryden. 

Vulpone,  or  The  Fox.  ...  It  is  still  in  vogue  at  the  Theatre 
in  Dorset  Garden.  .  .  . 

New-Inn.  .  .  .  The  just  Indignation  the  Author  took  at  the 
Vulgar  Censure  of  his  Play  begat  this  following  Ode  to  himself: 
Come,  leave  the  loathed  Stage  .  .  . 

This  Ode  sufficiently  shews  what  a  high  Opinion  our  Author 
has  of  his  own  Performances;  and  like  Aristotle  in  Philosophy, 
and  Peter  Lombard,  (The  Master  of  the  Sentences)  in  School- 
Divinity;  our  Ben.  lookt  upon  himself  as  the  only  Master  of 
Poetry;  and  thought  it  the  Duty  of  the  Age,  rather  to  submit  to, 
than  dispute,  much  less  oppose  his  Judgment.  'Twas  great 
pity,  that  he  that  was  so  great  a  Master  in  Poetry,  should  not 
retain  that  old  Axiom  in  Morality,  Nosce  Teipsum:  ...  He  had 
then  prevented  that  sharp  Reply  made  by  the  Ingenious  Mr. 
Feltham,  to  this  Magisterial  Ode:  and  which  could  not  chuse 
but  vex  a  Person  of  our  Author's  Haughty  Temper:  but  he  was 
a  Man,  and  subject  to  Infirmities,  as  well  as  others;  tho'  abating 
for  his  too  much  abounding  in  his  own  Sence,  (an  Epidemical 
Distemper  belonging  to  the  Fraternity  of  Parnassus]  he  had  not 
his  Equal  in  his  Time  for  Poetry.  .  .  . 

This  Haughty  Humour  of  Mr.  Johnson  was  blam'd  and  carpt 
at  by  others,  as  well  as  Mr.  Feltham:  amongst  the  rest,  Sir 
John  Suckling,  that  Neat  Face.tious  Wit,  arraign'd  him  at  the 
Session  of  Poets;  and  had  a  fling  at  this  Play  in  particular:  tho' 
we  may  say,  compar'd  to  the  former,  He  did  only  circum  pracordia 
ludere;  laugh  at,  and  railly  his  unreasonable  Self-opinion;  as 
you  may  see  in  the  following  Lines:  the  first  Stanza  of  which 
tho'  already  mention 'd  in  the  Account  of  Heywood,  I  crave  my 
Readers  leave  to  repeat,  that  he  may  read  our  Author's  Character 
entire : 
29 


434  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

The  first  that  broke  silence  was  good  Old  Ben,  .  .  . 

He  died  An.  D.  1637,  being  aged  63,  and  was  buried  in  St. 
Peter's  Church  in  Westminster,  on  the  West-side  near  the  Belfry ; 
having  only  a  plain  Stone  over  his  Grave,  with  this  Inscription; 
0  RARE  BEN.  JOHNSON. 

'Tis  manifest,  that  a  better  Monument  was  design'd  him,  by 
some  Friends;  but  the  Civil  Wars  breaking  out,  hindred  their 
good  Intentions:  tho'  it  shall  not  prevent  me  from  transcribing 
an  Elegy  written  by  a  Studious  Friend  and  Admirer  of  Ben. 
Johnson;  which  I  wish  were  set  upon  his  Grave. 

Hie  Johnsonus  noster  Lyricorum,  Dramaticorumque  Coryphceus, 
qui  Pallade  auspice  laurum  a  Grcecia  ipsaque  Roma  rapuit,  & 
fausto  Omine  in  Brittaniam  transtulit  nostram,  nunc  invidia  major, 
fato,  nee  tamen  cemulis  cessit.  An.  Dom.  1637.  Id.  Nov.  (Pp. 

280-306.) 

*  *         *         * 

Certainly  therefore,  if  he  [Thomas  Killegrew]  scrupled  to  rob 
Mr.  Carew,  he  would  much  more  Mr.  Johnson,  whose  Fame  as 
much  exceeded  the  others,  as  his  Writings  and  Compositions  are 
better  known:  However  it  be,  I  am  sure  he  is  not  the  only  Poet 
that  has  imp'd  his  Wings  with  Mr.  Johnson's  Feathers.  (P.  314.) 

*  *         *         * 

He  [Marlowe]  writ  besides  a  Poem,  call'd  Hero  and  Leander; 
Whose  mighty  Lines  (says  one)  Mr.  Benjamin  Johnson,  a  Man 
sensible  enough  of  his  own  Abilities,  was  often  heard  to  say,  that 
they  were  Examples  fitter  for  Admiration,  than  Paralel.  (P.  345.) 

*  *         *         * 

Never  any  Man's  Stile  was  more  Bombast,  so  that  undoubtedly 
he  [Thomas  Meriton]  deserv'd-to  have  been  under  Ben.  Johnson's 
Hands;  and  had  he  liv'd  in  that  Age,  had  without  question 
underwent  the  trouble  of  a  Vomit,  as  well  as  Crispinus  in  Poet 
aster,  till  he  had  (to  borrow  One  of  his  lofty  Expressions)  disgorg'd 
the  obdure  Faculty  of  his  Sence.  (P.  367.) 

*  *         *         * 

He  [Thomas  Middleton]  was  Contemporary  with  those  Famous 
Poets  Johnson,  Fletcher,  Massinger  and  Rowley,  in  whose  Friend- 


TO  BEN.JONSON  435 

ship  he  had  a  large  Share ;  and  tho'  he  came  short  of  the  two 
former  in  parts,  yet  like  the  Ivy  by  the  Assistance  of  the  Oak, 
(being  joyn'd  with  them  in  several  Plays)  he  clim'd  up  to  some 
considerable  height  of  Reputation.  He  joyn'd  with  Fletcher  and 
Johnson,  in  a  Play  called  The  Widow,  .  .  .  and  certainly  most 
Men  will  allow,  That  he  that  was  thought  fit  to  be  receiv'd  into 
a  Triumvirate,  by  two  such  Great  Men,  was  no  common  Poet 

(P.  370.) 

*  *        *        * 

No  Person  since  the  Time  of  Augustus  better  understood 
Dramatick  Poetry,  nor  more  generously  encourag'd  Poets;  so 
that  we  my  truly  call  him  [William,  Duke  of  Newcastle]  our 
English  Meccenas.  He  had  a  more  particular  kindness  for  that 
Great  Master  of  Dramatick  Poesy,  the  Excellent  Johnson,  and 
'twas  from  him  that  he  attain 'd  to  a  perfect  Knowledge  of  what 
was  to  be  accounted  True  Humour  in  Comedy.  (P.  386.) 

*  *         *         * 

He  [Thomas  Randolph]  was  accounted  one  of  the  most  preg 
nant  Wits  of  his  Time;  and  was  not  only  admir'd  by  the  Wits  of 
Cambridge,  but  likewise  belov'd  and  valu'd  by  the  Poets,  and 
Men  of  the  Town  in  that  Age.  His  Gay  Humour,  and  Readiness-, 
at  Repartee,  begat  Ben.  Johnson's  Love  to  that  Degree,  that  he 
Adopted  him  his  Son:  on  which  Account  Mr.  Randolph  writ  a 
Gratulatory  Poem  to  him,  which  is  printed,  these  Lines  being 
part  of  the  Copy: 

— When  my  Muse  upon  obedient  knees 
Asks  not  a  Father's  Blessing,  let  her  leese 
The  Fame  of  this  Adoption;   'tis  a  Curse 
I  wish  her  'cause  I  cannot  think  a  worse. 

How  true  a  Filial  Love  he  pay'd  to  his  Reputation,  may 
appear  from  his  Answer  to  that  Ode,  which  Ben.  writ  in  Defence 
of  his  New-Inn,  and  which  Mr.  Feltham  reply'd  upon  so  sharply. 
Having  given  you  the  two  former,  in  my  Account  of  Mr.  Johnson; 
give  me  leave  likewise  to  transcribe  this  in  Honour  of  Mr. 
Randolph,  whose  Memory  I  reverence,  for  his  Respect  to  that 
Great  Man.  (Pp.  411-12.) 


436  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Permit  me  therefore  to  conclude  all  with  the  following  Lines, 
writ  by  One  of  St.  John's,  in  Memory  of  our  Author. 
Immortal  Ben  is  dead,  and  as  that  Ball 
On  Ida  toss'd,  so  is  his  Crown,  by  all 
The  Infantry  of  W't.  Vain  Priests!  That  Chair 
Is  only  fit  for  his  true  Son  and  Heir. 
Reach  here  thy  Laurel  :  Randolph,  'tis  thy  praise: 
Thy  naked  Skull  shall  well  become  the  Bays. 
See,  Daphne  courts  thy  Ghost:  and  spite  oj  Fate, 
Thy  Poems  shall  be  Poet  Laureate.     (P.  417.) 

*  *         *         * 

As  to  his  [William  Rowly's]  Poetry,  and  his  intimate  Acquaint 
ance  with  the  prime  Poets  of  that  Age,  I  can  speak  at  large. 
He  was  not  only  beloved  by  those  Great  Men,  Shakespear, 
Fletcher,  and  Johnson;  but  likewise  writ  with  the  former,  The 
Birth  of  Merlin.  Besides  what  he  joyned  in  writing  with  Poets 
of  the  second  Magnitude,  as  Heywood,  Middleton,  Day  and 

Webster.     (P.  428.) 

*  *         *         * 

That  Mr.  Shadwell  has  propos'd  B.  Johnson  for  his  Model,  I 
am  very  certain  of  ;  and  those  who  will  read  the  Preface  to  the 
Humorists,  may  be  sufficiently  satisfied  what  a  value  he  has  for 
that  Great  Man.  (P.  444.) 

*  *         *         * 

And  it  is  no  small  credit  to  our  Author  [Tho.  Shadwell],  that 
the  Sieur  De  Saint  Euvremont,  speaking  of  our  English  Comedies 
in  his  Essays,  has  ranked  this  Play  [Epsom  Wells]  with  Ben 
Johnson's  Bartholmew  Fair,  as  two  of  our  most  diverting  Come 
dies.  (P.  446.) 

*  *         *         * 

'Tis  true  Mr.  Dry  den  has  censured  him  [Shakespeare]  very 
severely,  in  his  Postscript  to  Granada;  but  in  cool  Blood,  and 
when  the  Enthusiastick  Fit  was  past,  he  has  acknowledged  him 
Equal  at  least,  if  not  Superiour,  to  Mr.  Johnson  in  Poesie.  I 
shall  not  here  repeat  what  has  been  before  urged  in  his  behalf, 
in  that  Common  Defence  of  the  Poets  of  that  Time,  against 


TO  BEN  JONSON  437 

Mr.  Dryderis  Account  of  Ben  Johnson;  but  shall  take  the  Liberty 
to  speak  my  Opinion,  as  my  predecessors  have  done,  of  his 
Works;  which  is  this,  That  I  esteem  his  Plays  beyond  any  that 
have  ever  been  published  in  our  Language:  and  tho'  I  extreamly 
admire  Johnson,  and  Fletcher;  yet  I  must  aver,  that  when  in 
competition  with  Shakespear,  I  must  apply  to  them  what  Justus 
Lipsius  writ  in  his  Letter  to  Andraas  Schottus,  concerning 
Terence  and  Plautus,  when  compar'd ;  Terentium  amo,  admiror, 
sed  Plautum  magis.  (P.  454.) 


I  shall  conclude  this  Account,  with  Four  Lines  writ  in  our 
Author's  Commendation,  by  One  Mr.  Hall;  who  in  the  Title  of 
his  Panegyrick  stiles  him,  The  Surviving  Honour  and  Ornament 
of  the  English  Scene:  and  in  the  End,  concludes  thus: 

Yet  this  I  dare  assert,  when  Men  have  nam'd 

Johnson  (the  Nations  Laureat,)  thefam'd 

Beaumont,  and  Fletcher,  he,  that  cannot  see 

Shirley,  the  fourth,  must  jorfeit  his  best  Eye.     (P.  485.) 

[An  Account  of  the  English  Dramatick  Poets,  Oxford,  1691.  The  work 
contains  many  other  allusions  to  Jonson;  cf.  pp.  41,  42,  67,  137, 
218,  309,  310,  342,  349,  350,  389,  391,  392,  448,  518.1 

Anthony  a  Wood,  1691-92. 

BENJAMIN  JOHNSON,  a  poet  as  soon  as  he  was  born,  afterwards 
the  father  of  our  poetry,  and  most  admirably  well  vers'd  in 
classical  authors,  and  therefore  belov'd  of  Cambden,  Selden, 
Hoskins,  Martin,  &c.  made  his  first  entry  on  the  stage  of  this 
vain  world  within  the  city  of  Westminster,  (being  the  son  of  a 
grave  minister)  educated  in  the  college  school  there,  while 
Cambden  was  master,  which  was  the  reason  why  Ben  did  after 
wards  acknowledge,  that  all  that  he  had  in  arts,  and  all  that  he 
knew,  he  ow'd  to  him.  Thence  his  silly  mother,  who  had  married 
to  her  second  husband  a  bricklayer,  took  him  home,  and  made 
him,  as  'tis  said,  work  at  her  husband's  trade.  At  length  being 
pitied  by  some  generous  gentlemen,  Cambden  got  him  a  better 
employment,  which  was  to  attend  or  accompany  a  son  of  sir 
Walt.  Raleigh  in  his  adventures,  whereby  gaining  experience, 


438  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

made  his  company  acceptable  among  many.  After  their  return 
they  parted,  I  think  not  in  cold  blood,  and  thereupon  Ben  went 
to  Cambridge,  and  was,  as  'tis  said,  statutably  elected  into  St. 
John's  coll.  but  what  continuance  he  made  there  I  find  not: 
Sure  'tis,  that  his  geny  being  mostly  poetical,  he  did  afterwards 
recede  to  a  nursery  or  obscure  play-house  called  the  Green 
Curtain,  about  Shoreditch  or  Clerkenwell,  but  his  first  action 
and  writing  there  were  both  ill.  At  length  improving  his  fancy 
much  by  keeping  scholastical  company,  he  betook  himself  again 
to  write  plays,  which  he  did  so  admirably  well,  that  he  was 
esteemed  paramount  in  the  dramatic  part  of  poetry,  and  to  teach 
the  stage  an  exact  conformity  to  the  laws  of  comedians.  Where 
upon  sir  Jo.  Suckling  bringing  him  into  the  Session  of  Poets,, 
Ben  broke  silence,  spoke  to  the  poets,  and 

Bid  them  remember  how  he  had  purg'd  the  stage 

Of  errors  that  had  lasted  many  an  age. 

His  own  proper  industry  and  addiction  to  books,  especially  to 
ancient  poets  and  classical  authors,  made  him  a  person  of  curious 
learning  and  judgment,  and  of  singular  excellence  in  the  art  of 
poetry.  Which,  with  his  accurate  judgment  and  performance, 
known  only  to  those  few,  who  are  truly  able  to  judge  of  his 
works,  have  gain'd  from  the  most  eminent  scholars  of  his  time 
(particularly  from  the  learned  Selden)  an  increasing  admiration. 
Dr.  Rich.  Corbet,  of  Ch.  Ch.  and  other  poets  of  this  university, 
did,  in  reverence  to  his  parts,  invite  him  to  Oxon,  where  continu 
ing  for  some  time  in  Ch.  Ch.  in  writing  and  composing  plays* 
he  was,  as  a  member  thereof,  actually  created  M.  of  A.  in  1619, 
and  therefore  upon  that  account  I  put  him  among  the  Oxford 
writers,  for  at  Cambridge  his  stay  was  but  short,  and  whether 
he  took  a  degree  in  that  university,  I  cannot  yet  learn  of  any. 
His  works  are  these  .  .  . 

His  Motives — Printed  1622,  oct.  He  also  had  a  hand  in  a 
com.  called,  The  Widow.  Lond.  1652,  qu.  [Bodl.  4to.  S.  3.  Art. 
B  S.]  Jo.  Fletcher  and  Th.  Middleton  were  his  assistants.  Also 
in  Eastward  Hoe,  Com.  [1605,  4°.]  assisted  by  Geo.  Chapman, 
&c.  and  did  with  Dr.  Hacket  (afterwards  B.  of  Lichfield)  translate 


TO  BEN  JONSON  439 

into  Latin  The  Lord  Bacon's  Essays  or  Counsels  Civil  and  Moral. 
At  length  B.  Johnson,  after  he  had  arrived  to  the  sixty-third 
year  of  his  age,  marched  off  from  the  stage  of  this  vain  world  on 
the  1  6th  of  August  in  sixteen  hundred  thirty  and  seven,  and 
was  buried  three  days  after  in  S.  Peter's  Church  within  the 
city  of  Westminster,  commonly  called  the  Abbey  church,  not 
among  the  poets,  but  at  the  west  end  near  to  the  belfrey,  under 
the  escutcheon  of  Rob.  de  Ros,  or  Roos,  with  this  engraven  on 
a  common  pavement  stone  lying  over  his  grave,  at  eighteen 
pence  charge,  given  by  Jack  Young  of  Great  Milton  in  Oxford 
shire,  (afterwards  a  knight  by  the  favour  of.  K.  Ch.  II.)  O  Rare 
Ben  Johnson.  There  was  a  considerable  sum  of  money  gathered 
from  among  the  wits  and  virtuosi  of  his  time  for  the  erection  of 
a  monument  and  a  Statua  for  him,  but  before  they  could  be 
done,  the  rebellion  broke  forth  and  hindred  the  design;  where 
upon  the  money  was  refunded.  I  have  been  informed  by  a 
worthy  prelate  several  years  since  deceased,  that  this  poet  Ben 
had  a  pension  of  an  100  £.  per  an.  from  the  king,  a  pension  also 
from  the  city  of  London,  and  the  like  from  several  of  the  nobility, 
and  from  some  of  the  gentry,  particularly  from  Sutton,  founder 
of  the  hospital  that  now  bears  his  name,  which  were  commonly 
well  paid  either  out  of  pure  love  to  him,  or  out  of  fear  of  his 
railing  in  verse  or  prose,  or  both.  When  he  was  in  his  last 
sickness,  the  said  prelate,  who  was  then  M.  of  A.  did,  among 
other  of  his  acquaintance,  often  visit  him,  and  as  often  heard 
him  repent  of  his  prophaning  the  scripture  in  his  plays,  and  that 
with  horror,  &c.  Many  years  after  his  death  did  appear  to  the 
world  another  poet  of  both  his  names,  who  writes  himself  in  his 
Poems  published  1672,  "Ben  Johnson  junior,"  but  what  relation 
there  was  between  him  and  the  former  I  know  not.  (Vol.  ii, 


Over  his  [Thomas  Overbury's]  grave  tho'  no  memory  by  writing 
was  ever  put,  yet  Ben.  Johnson's  epigram  written  to  him  will 
eternize  it,  and  other  verses  by  the  wits  of  his  time.  (Vol.  n, 
p.  136.) 


440  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

July  19.  [1620].  BENJAMIN  JOHNSON  the  father  of  the  English 
poets  and  poetry,  and  the  most  learned  and  judicious  of  the 
comedians,  was  then  actually  created  master  of  arts  in  a  full 
house  of  convocation.  (Vol.  ii,  p.  392.) 

*         *         *         * 

ROBERT  WARING,  ...  To  the  said  [the  third]  edition  [of 
Effigies  Amoris]  is  joined  our  author's  Carmen  Lapidorium, 
written  to  the  memory  of  Ben.  Johnson,  which  Griffith  finding 
miserably  mangled  in  Jonsonus  Virbius,  or  Verses  on  the  Death  of 
Ben.  Johnson,  he,  with  his  own  hand,  restored  it  to  its  former 
perfection  and  lustre,  by  freeing  it  from  the  errors  of  the  press. 
(Vol.  iii,  p.  454.) 

[Athena  Oxoniensis,  ed.  Philip  Bliss,  1813-20.  There  are  many  passing 
allusions  to  Jonson  of  slighter  interest;  see  i,  566,  764;  ii,  208, 
250,  269,  272,  365,  369,  401,  402,  435,  502,  545,  655,  658;  iii,  47, 
377,  456;  iv,  222,  622.] 

Title-page,  1692. 

The  Works  of  Ben  Jonson,  Which  were  formerly  Printed  in 
Two  Volumes,  are  now  Reprinted  in  One.  To  which  is  added  a 
Comedy,  called  the  New  Inn.  With  Additions  never  before 
Published.  Thomas  Hogdkin,  for  H.  Herringman,  E.  Brewster, 
T.  Bassett,  R.  Chiswell,  M.  Wotton,  G.  Conyers.  MDCXCII. 

[This  edition  has  an  engraved  portrait  of  Jonson,  by  Elder,  with  the 
verses  below  written  by  Abraham  Holland  for  the  1616  Folio 
portrait.] 

Richard  Lapthorne,  1692. 

Letter  to  Richard  Coffin,  October  15,  1692. 

...  I  had  a  short  view  of  Sir  R.  Cotton's  Library.  .  .  .  Over 
the  books  are  the  Roman  Emperors,  I  mean,  their  heads,  in 
brass  statues,  which  serve  for  standards  in  the  Catalogue,  to 
direct  to  find  any  particular  book,  viz.,  under  such  an  Emperor's 
head,  such  an  number.  ...  I  had  not  time  to  look  into  the 
books;  some  relicts  I  took  notice  of,  besides  the  books;  viz.,  I 
saw  there  Sir  H.  Spelman's  and  Buchanons  pictures,  well  don; 


TO  BEN  JONSON  44! 

also,  Ben  Johnson's  and  Sir  R.  Cotton's,  and  in  the  staires  was 
Wicliffs. ' 

[Reproduced  in  the  Fifth  Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on  Historical 
Manuscripts,  1876,  p.  379.  In  the  Report  of  the  Historical  Manu 
scripts  Commission  on  the  Manuscripts  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  oj 
Portland,  K.  G.,  vi,  17,  is  recorded  a  letter  from  James  Sykes  to 
the  Earl  of  Oxford:  1726,  October  19.  Lincolns  Inn  Fields.— Is 
ordered  by  his  father's  executors  to  apply  for  fifteen  guineas,  due 
for  a  picture  of  Chaucer.  Has  also  pictures  of  Ben  Jonson, 
Shakespeare  and  Milton,  which  he  desires  to  give  his  Lordship  the 
refusal  of.] 

Anonymous,  1692-93. 

Epilogue. 

Spoken  by  one  in  deep  Mourning. 
Enough  of  Mirth;   the  Sportive  Scene  is  done, 
And  a  new  doleful  Theme  is  coming  on : 
These  Sable  Robes,  at  Plays  so  seldom  worn, 
Do  silently  express  the  Loss  we  mourn : 
SHADWELL,  the  great  Support  o'  th'  Comick  Stage, 
Born  to  expose  the  Follies  of  the  Age, 
To  whip  prevailing  Vices,  and  unite 
Mirth  with  Instruction,  Profit  with  Delight; 
For  large  Idea's,  and  a  flowing  Pen, 
First  of  our  Times,  and  second  but  to  Ben.  .  .  . 

[Printed  at  the  end  of  Shad  well's  play,  The  Volunteers;  Shad  well  died 
in  1692.] 

John  Dryden,  1693. 

It  is  not  with  an  ultimate  intention  to  pay  reverence  to  the 
names  of  Shakespeare,  Fletcher,  and  Ben  Jonson,  that  they 
commend  their  writings,  but  to  throw  dirt  on  the  writers  of  this 
age.  .  .  .  Peace  be  to  the  venerable  shades  of  Shakespeare  and 
Ben  Jonson !  none  of  the  living  will  presume  to  have  any  com 
petition  with  them;  as  they  were  our  predecessors,  so  they  were 
our  masters.  We  trail  our  plays  under  them;  but  as  at  the 
funerals  of  a  Turkish  emperor,  our  ensigns  are  furled  or  dragged 
upon  the  ground,  in  honour  to  the  dead,  so  we  may  lawfully 
advance  our  own  afterwards,  to  show  that  we  succeed;  if  less- in 


442  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

dignity,  yet  on  the  same  foot  and  title,  which  we  think  too  we 
can  maintain  against  the  insolence  of  our  own  janizaries. 

*         *         *         * 

What  then  would  he  [Homer]  appear  in  the  harmonious  version 
of  one  of  the  best  writers,  living  in  a  much  better  age  than  was 
the  last?  I  mean  for  versification,  and  the  art  of  numbers;  for 
in  the  drama  we  have  not  arrived  to  the  pitch  of  Shakespeare 
and  Ben  Jonson. 

[The  Third  Miscellany,  1693,  Dedication;  The  Works  of  John  Dryden* 
ed.  Scott  and  Saintsbury,  1885,  xii,  57,  68.] 

John  Dryden,  1693. 

I  was  myself  in  the  rudiments  of  my  poetry,  without  name  or 
reputation  in  the  world,  having  rather  the  ambition  of  a  writer, 
than  the  skill ;  when  I  was  drawing  the  outlines  of  an  art,  without 
any  living  master  to  instruct  me  in  it;  an  art  which  had  been 
better  praised  than  studied  here  in  England,  wherein  Shakespeare, 
who  created  the  stage  among  us,  had  rather  written  happily, 
than  knowingly  and  justly,  and  Jonson,  who,  by  studying 
Horace,  had  been  acquainted  with  the  rules,  yet  seemed  to  envy 
to  posterity  that  knowledge,  and,  like  the  inventor  of  some 
useful  art,  to  make  a  monopoly  of  his  learning.  .  .  . 

The  subject  of  this  book  confines  me  to  Satire;  and  in  that, 
an  author  of  your  own  quality,  (whose  ashes  I  will  not  disturb,) 
has  given  you  all  the  Commendation  which  his  self-sufficiency 
could  afford  to  any  man:  "The  best  good  man,  with  the  worst- 
natured  muse."  In  that  character,  methinks,  I  am  reading 
Jonson's  verses  to  the  memory  of  Shakespeare;  an  insolent, 
sparing,  and  invidious  panegyric:  where  good  nature,  the  most 
godlike  commendation  of  a  man,  is  only  attributed  to  your  per 
son,  and  denied  to  your  writings. 

[Essay  on  Satire:  Addressed  to  the  Right  Honourable  Charles,  Earl  of 
Dorset,  &c.,  prefixed  to  The  Satires  of  Decimus  Junius  Juvenalis, 
1693-] 

Anonymous,  1693. 

Question]  4.  What  Books  of  Poetry  wou'd  you  Advise  one  that's 
Young,  and  extreamly  delights  in  it,  to  read,  both  Divine  and  other? 


TO  BEN  JONSON  443 

Answ[er]  ....  Spencer's  Fairy  Queen,  &c.,  Tasso's  Godfrey 
of  Bulloign,  Shakespear,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Ben.  Johnson, 
Randal,  Cleaveland,  Dr.  Donne,  Gondibert,  WALLER,  all  DRY- 
DEN,  Tate,  Oldham,  Flatman,  The  Plain  Dealer— and  when  you 
have  done  of  these,  We'll  promise  to  provide  you  more. 
[The  Athenian  Mercury,  Vol.  xii,  No.  I,  October  24,  1693.) 

Thomas  Rymer,  1693. 

...  For  Tragedy,  amongst  others,  Thomas  Lord  of  Buckhurst, 
whose  Gorboduck  is  a  fable,  doubtless,  better  turn'd  for  Tragedy, 
than  any  on  this  side  the  Alps  in  his  time;  and  might  have  been 
a  better  direction  to  Shakespear  and  Ben.  Johnson  than  any  guide 
they  have  had  the  luck  to  follow.  (P.  84.) 

*         *         *         * 

From  this  time  Dramatick  Poetry  began  to  thrive  with  us,  and 
flourish  wonderfully.  The  French  confess  they  had  nothing  in 
this  kind  considerable  till  1635,  that  the  Academy  Royal  was 
founded.  Long  before  which  time  we  had  from  Shakespear, 
Fletcher,  and  Ben.  Johnson  whole  Volumes;  at  this  day  in  posses 
sion  of  the  Stage,  and  acted  with  greater  applause  than  ever. 
(P.  85.) 

[A  Short  View  of  Tragedy,  1693.     The  volume  is  full  of  allusions  to 
Jonson,  and  contains  a  long  discussion  of  Catiline.} 

William  Wotton,  1694. 

...  It  may  be  certainly  affirmed,  That  the  Grammar  of  Eng 
lish  is  so  far  our  own,  that  Skill  in  the  Learned  Languages  is  not 
necessary  to  comprehend  it.  Ben.  Johnson  was  the  first  Man, 
that  I  know  of,  that  did  any  Thing  considerable  in  it:  but  he 
seems  to  have  been  too  much  possessed  with  the  Analogy  of 
Latin  and  Greek,  to  write  a  perfect  Grammar  of  a  Language 
whose  Construction  is  so  vastly  different;  tho'  he  falls  into  a 
contrary  Fault,  when  he  treats  of  the  English  Syntax,  where  he 
generally  appeals  to  Chaucer  and  Gower,  who  lived  before  our 
Tongue  had  met  with  any  of  that  Polishing  which,  within  these 
last  cc  Years,  has  made  it  appear  almost  entirely  New. 

[Reflections  upon  Ancient  and  Modern  Learning,  1694;    in  the  second 
edition,  1697,  pp.  59-60.] 


444  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

Sir  Thomas  Pope  Blount,  1694. 

Benjamin    Johnson. 

This  Renowned  Poet  was  born  in  the  City  of  Westminster,  his 
Mother  living  in  Harts-Horn-Lane,  near  Charing- Cross,  where 
she  Married  a  Bricklayer  for  her  Second  Husband.  But  thb'  he 
sprang  from  mean  Parents,  yet  his  admirable  Parts  have  made 
him  more  famous,  than  those  of  a  more  conspicuous  Extraction. 
Nor  do  I  think  it  any  diminution  to  him,  That  he  was  Son-in-Law 
to  a  Bricklayer,  and  work'd  at  that  Trade;  since  if  we  take  a 
survey  of  the  Records  of  Antiquity,  we  shall  find  the  greatest 
Poets  of  the  meanest  Birth,  and  most  liable  to  the  Inconveniencies 
of  Life.  Witness  Homer,  .  .  .  Euripides,  .  .  .  Plautus,  .  .  . 
Ncevius,  .  .  .  Terence,  .  .  .  Virgil,  .  .  .  :  And  yet  these  thought 
the  obscurity  of  their  Extraction  no  diminution  to  their  Worth ; 
Nor  will  any  Man  of  Sense  reflect  on  a  Varus,  to  free  him  from 
so  slavish  an  Employment,  and  furnish  him  with  Means  to 
enjoy  his  Muse  at  liberty,  in  private.  'Twas  then  that  he  writ 
his  Excellent  Plays,  and  grew  into  Reputation  with  the  most 
Eminent  of  our  Nobility,  and  Gentry.  'Twas  then,  that  Carth- 
wright,  Randolph,  and  others  of  both  Universities,  sought  his 
Adoption;  and  gloried  more  in  his  Friendship,  and  the  Title  of 
his  Sons,  than  in  their  own  well-deserv'd  Characters.  Neither 
did  he  less  love,  or  was  less  belov'd  by  the  Famous  Poets  of  his 
Time,  Shakespear,  Beaumont,  and  Fletcher. 

He  was  general'y  esteem'd  a  Man  of  a  very  free  Temper,  and 
withal  Blunt,  and  somewhat  haughty  to  those,  that  were  either 
Rivals  in  Fame,  or  Enemies  to  his  Writings,  (witness  his  Poetaster, 
wherein  he  falls  upon  Decker,  and  his  answer  to  Dr.  Gill,  who 
writ  against  his  Magnetick  Lady,}  otherwise  of  a  good  sociable 
Humour,  when  amongst  his  Sons  and  Friends  in  the  Apollo. 

[De  Re  Poetica:  or  Remarks  upon  Poetry  with  Characters  and  Censures 
of  the  most  Considerable  Poets  whether  Ancient  or  Modern,  Extracted 
out  of  the  Best  and  Choicest  Criticks,  1694,  pp.  104-12.  As  the 
title  indicates,  the  volume  is  largely  made  up  of  extracts;  on 
Jonson,  Blount  quotes  from  Dryden,  the  Earl  of  Rochester, 
Burnet,  Rymer,  Winstanley,  Denham,  Anthony  a  Wood,  Shadwell, 
Gill,  Suckling,  Langbaine,  and  others.] 


TO  BEN  JONSON  445 

James  Wright,  1694. 

But  I  beseech  you  Gentlemen,  how  comes  this  unmodish 
Opinion  in  you,  against  the  Plays  in  Fashion?  I'll  tell  you, 
continued  Lisander,  methinks  they  have  neether  the  Wit,  Con 
duct,  Honour,  nor  Design  of  those  writ  by  Johnson,  Shakespear, 
and  Fletcher. 

*         *         *         * 

Whereupon. Julio,  in  a  long  Discourse,  produced  out  of  Ben. 
Johnson,  Shakespear,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Messenger,  Shirley, 
and  Sir  William  Davenant,  before  the  Wars,  and  some  Comedies 
of  Mr.  Drydens,  since  the  Restauration,  many  Characters  of 
Gentlemen,  of  a  quite  different  Strain  from  those  in  the  Modern 
Plays. 

[Country  Conversations,  1694,  PP-  3»  !6.] 

T.  B.,  1695. 

Time  has  devour'd  the  Younger  Sons  of  Wit, 
Who  liv'd  when  Chaucer,  Spencer,  Johnson  writ: 
Those  lofty  Trees  are  of  their  Leaves  bereft, 
And  to  a  reverend  Nakedness  are  left.  .  .  . 

-[Commendatory  Verses,   prefixed  to  the   1695  edition  of  Drayton's 
England's  Heroical  Epistles.} 

William  Congreve,  1695. 

Sometimes  Personal  Defects  are  misrepresented  for  Humours. 

I  mean,  sometimes  Characters  are  barbarously  exposed  on  the 
Stage,  ridiculing  Natural  Deformities,  Casual  Defects  in  the 
Senses,  and  Infirmities  of  Age.  .  .  .  But  much  need  not  be  said 
upon  this  Head  to  any  body,  especially  to  you,  who,  in  one  of 
your  Letters  to  me  concerning  Mr.  Johnson's  Fox,  have  justly 
excepted  against  this  Immoral  part  of  Ridicule  in  Corbaccio's 
Character;  and  there  I  must  agree  with  you  to  blame  him  whom 
otherwise  I  cannot  enough  admire  for  his  great  Mastery  of  true 
Humour  in  Comedy.  .  .  . 

The  Character  of  Morose  in  the  Silent  Woman  I  take  to  be  a 
Character  of  Humour.  And  I  choose  to  instance  this  Character 
to  you  from  many  others  of  the  same  Author,  because  I  know  it 


446  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

has  been  Condemn'd  by  many  as  Unnatural  and  Farce:  And 
you  have  your  self  hinted  some  dislike  of  it  for  the  same  Reason, 
in  a  Letter  to  me  concerning  some  of  Johnson's  Plays. 

Let  us  suppose  Morose  to  be  a  Man  Naturally  Splenetick  and 
Melancholly;  is  there  any  thing  more  offensive  to  one  of  such 
a  Disposition  than  Noise  and  Clamour?  Let  any  Man  that  has 
the  Spleen  .  .  .be  Judge.  .  .  .  Well,  but  Morose,  you  will  say, 
is  so  Extravagant,  he  cannot  bear  any  Discourse  or  Conversation 
above  a  Whisper.  Why,  It  is  his  excess  of  this  Humour  that 
makes  him  become  Ridiculous,  and  qualifies  his  Character  for 
Comedy.  If  the  Poet  had  given  him  but  a  Moderate  proportion 
of  that  Humour,  'tis  odds  but  half  the  Audience  would  have 
sided  with  the  Character  and  have  Condemn'd  the  Author  for 
Exposing  a  Humour  which  was  neither  Remarkable  nor  Ridicu 
lous.  Besides,  the  distance  of  the  Stage  requires  the  Figure 
represented  to  be  something  larger  than  the  Life;  and  sure  a 
Picture  may  have  Features  larger  in  Proportion,  and  yet  be 
very  like  the  Original.  .  .  . 

The  Character  of  Sir  John  Daw  in  the  same  Play  is  a  Character 
of  Affectation.  He  every  where  discovers  an  Affectation  of 
Learning,  when  he  is  not  only  Conscious  to  himself,  but  the 
Audience  also  plainly  perceives  that  he  is  Ignorant.  .  .  . 

The  Character  of  Cob  in  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  and  most 
of  the  under  Characters  in  Bartholomew- Fair  discover  only  a 
Singularity  of  Manners,  appropriated  to  the  several  Educations 
and  Professions  of  the  Persons  represented.  They  are  not 
Humours  but  Habits  contracted  by  Custom. 

[Mr.  Congreve  to  Mr.  Dennis,  Concerning  Humour  in  Comedy,  July  10, 
1695;  from  Letters  upon  several  Occasions,  1696,  pp.  80-96.] 

Thomas  Brown,  about  1697. 

Homer  and  Virgil  were  but  Tools, 
Fit  only  for  the  Use  of  Fools.  .  .  . 
Even  Casaubon  for  Satire  famous, 
Was  but  a  jingling  Ignoramus. 


TO  BEN  JONSON  447 

And  all  the  rest,  to  Ben,  and  so  forth, 
A  Crew  of  useless  things  of  no  Worth : 

[A  Recantation  of  his  Satire  on  the  French  King;  in  The  Works  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Brown,  1730,  iv,  215.] 

William  Blundell,  before  1698. 

See  his  'Discoveries,'  where  he  speaks  of  the  envy  towards  an 
able  writer  who  shall  be  better  understood  in  another  age.  He 
showeth  his  abilities  to  be  such,  as  if  he  hath  given  a  character 
of  himself.  Ben  Jonson's  head  is  put  up  for  a  sign  in  London 
and  sundry  places. 

[A  Cavalier's  Note  Book,  ed.  T.  E.  Gibson,  1880,  p.  224.] 

Jeremy  Collier,  1698. 

As  for  Shakespear,  he  is  too  guilty  [of  immodesty]  to  make  an 
Evidence:  But  I  think  he  gains  not  much  by  his  Misbehaviour; 
He  has  commonly  Plautus's  Fate,  where  there  is  most  Smut, 
there  is  least  Sense. 

Ben.    Johnson   is   much   more   reserv'd   in   his   Plays,   and 
declares  plainly  for  Modesty  in  his  Discoveries. 

[A  Short  View  of  the  Immorality  and  Profaneness  of  the  English  Stage, 
1698,  p.  50.  Collier  frequently  alludes  to  Jonson,  and  takes 
occasion  to  discuss  his  plays,  often  at  some  length;  see  pp.  51,  57, 
77,  78,  126,  151-54,  157,  159,  187.  Jonson  figures  in  a  similar 
way  in  the  various  answers  to  Collier's  attack.  These  are,  for 
the  most  part,  omitted  from  the  present  volume.] 

Samuel  Cobb,  about  1699. 

The  coin  must  sure  for  current  sterling  pass, 
Stamped  with  old  Chaucer's  venerable  face. 
But  Jonson  found  it  of  a  gross  allay, 
Melted  it  down,  and  flung  the  scum  away. 
He  dug  pure  silver  from  a  Roman  mine, 
And  prest  his  sacred  image  on  the  coin. 
We  all  rejoiced  to  see  the  pillaged  ore; 
Our  tongue  inriched,  which  was  so  poor  before. 
Fear  not,  learned  poet,  our  impartial  blame, 
Such  thefts  as  these  add  lustre  to  thy  name. 


448  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

All  yield,  consenting  to  sustain  the  yoke, 

And  learn  the  language  which  the  victor  spoke, 

So  Macedon's  imperial  hero  threw 

His  wings  abroad,  and  conquered  as  he  flew. 

Great  Jonson's  deeds  stand  parallel  with  his, 

Are  noble  thefts,  successful  piracies.  .  .  . 

[Poetae  Britannici,  written,  presumably,  just  before  1700,  printed  in 
Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by  Samuel  Cobb,  1700,  under  the 
title  Of  Poetry:  i.  Its  Antiquity.  2.  Its  Progress,  j.  Its  Improve 
ment.] 

J.  Drake,  1699. 

I  shall  begin  with  Shakespear,  whom  notwithstanding  the 
severity  of  Mr.  Rhimer,  and  the  hard  usage  of  Mr.  Collier,  I 
must  still  think  the  Proto-Dramatist  of  England,  tho  he  fell 
short  of  the  Art  of  Johnson,  and  the  Conversation  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher. 

[The  Antient  and  Modern  Stages  surveyed.  Or,  Mr.  Collier's  View  of 
the  Immorality  and  Profaness  of  the  English  Stage  Set  in  a  True 
Light,  1699,  p.  201.] 

James  Wright,  1699. 

Lovew.  The  more's  the  pity:  But  what  said  the  Fortune- 
Teller  in  Ben.  Johnson's  Mask  of  Gypsies,  to  the  then  Lord  Privy 
Seal, 

Honest  and  Old! 

In  those  the  Good  Part  of  a  Fortune  is  told. 

Trum.  Ben.  Johnson?  How  dare  you  name  Ben.  Johnson  in 
these  times?  When  we  have  such  a  crowd  of  Poets  of  a  quite 
different  Genius;  the  least  of  which  thinks  himself  as  well  able 
to  correct  Ben.  Johnson,  as  he  could  a  Country  School  Mistress 
that  taught  to  Spell. 

Lovew.  We  have  indeed,  Poets  of  a  different  Genius;  so  are 
the  Plays:  But  in  my  Opinion,  they  are  all  of  'em  (some  few 
excepted)  as  much  inferior  to  those  of  former  Times,  as  the 
Actors  now  in  being  (generally  speaking)  are.  .  .  .  When  the 
Question  has  been  askt,  Why  these  Players  do  not  receive  the 
Silent  Woman,  and  some  other  of  Johnson's  Plays,  (once  of 
highest  esteem)  they  have  answer'd,  truly,  Because  there  are 


TO  BEN  JONSON  449 

none  now  Living  who  can  rightly  Humour  those  Parts,  for  all 
who  related  to  the  Black-friers  (where  they  were  Acted  in  per 
fection)  are  now  Dead,  and  almost  forgotten.  .  .  . 

Lovew.  .  .  .  But  pray  Sir,  what  Master  Parts  can  you  remem 
ber  the  Old  Black-friers  Men  to  Act,  in  Johnson,  Shakespear, 
and  Fletcher's  Plays. 

Trum.  What  I  can  at  present  recollect  I'll  tell  you;  Shake- 
spear,  (who  as  I  have  heard,  was  a  much  better  Poet,  than  Player) 
Burbage,  Hemmings,  and  others  of  the  Older  sort,  were  Dead 
before  I  knew  the  Town;  but  in  my  time,  before  the  Wars, 
Lowin  used  to  Act,  with  mighty  Applause,  Falstaffe,  Morose, 
Vulpone,  and  Mammon  in  the  Alchymist;  Melancius  in  the  Maid's 
Tragedy,  and  at  the  same  time  Amyntor  was  Play'd  by  Stephen 
Hammerton,  .  .  .  Tayler  Acted  Hamlet  incomparably  well,  Jago, 
Truewit  in  the  Silent  Woman,  and  Face  in  the  Alchymist;  Swans- 
ton  used  to  Play  Othello;  Pollard,  and  Robinson  were  Comedians, 
so  was  Shank  who  used  to  Act  Sir  Roger,  in  the  Scornful  Lady. 
These  were  of  the  Black-friers. 

[Historia  Histrionica:  A  Dialogue  of  Plays  and  Players,  1699,  pp.  1-3.] 

Thomas  Brown,  1699. 

If  antiquity  carries  any  weight  with  it,  the  fair  [Bartholomew- 
Fair}  has  enough  to  say  for  itself  on  that  head.  Fourscore 
years  ago,  and  better,  it  afforded  matter  enough  for  one  of  our 
best  comedians  to  compose  a  play  upon  it.  But  Smithfield  is 
another  sort  of  a  place  now  to  what  it  was  in  the  times  of  honest 
Ben;  who,  were  he  to  rise  out  of  his  grave,  wou'd  hardly  believe 
it  to  be  the  same  nuperical  spot  of  ground  where  justice  Over-do 
made  so  busy  a  figure,  where  the  crop-ear'd  parson  demolish'd 
a  gingerbread-stall;  where  Nightingale,  of  harmonious  memory, 
sung  ballads,  and  fat  Ursula  sold  pig  and  bottled-ale. 
*  *  *  * 

One  would  almost  swear,  that  Smithfield  had  removed  into 
Drury-lane  and  Lincolns-Inn- Fields,  since  they  set  so  small  a 
value  on  good  sense,  and  so  great  a  one  on  trifles  that  have  no 
relation  to  the  play.  .  .  .  Shortly,  I  suppose,  we  shall  be  enter- 

30 


450  AN  ALLUSION-BOOK 

tain'd  here  with  all  sorts  of  rights  and  shows,  as,  jumping  thro* 
a  hoop;  .  .  .  dancing  upon  the  high  ropes,  leaping  over  eight 
men's  heads,  wrestling,  boxing,  cudgelling,  fighting  at  back 
sword,  quarter-staff,  bear-baiting,  and  all  the  other  noble  exer 
cises  that  divert  the  good  folks  at  Hockley;  .  .  . 

What  a  wretched  pass  is  this  wicked  age  come  to,  when  Ben. 
Johnson  and  Shakespear  won't  relish  without  these  Bagatelles 
to  recommend  them,  and  nothing  but  farce  and  grimace  will 
go  down? 

[A  Letter  to  George  Moult,  Esq.,  August  30,  1699,  and  A  Letter  to  George 
Moult,  Esq.  upon  the  breaking  up  of  Bartholomew  Fair,  September 
12,  1699;  in  The  Works  of  Mr.  Thomas  Brown,  Serious  and  Comical, 
in  Prose  and  Verse,  1730,  i,  190,  193.] 

Title-page,  before  1700. 

Bacchus  turn'd  Doctor,  written  by  Ben  Johnson. 

[Hazlitt,  Hand-Book,  describes  this  as  "a  sheet,  in  double  columns, 
with  the  music.  The  type  is  engraved,  and  there  is  a  large  en 
graving  at  the  head  of  the  broadside.  Bagford  Call.1'  Whether 
this  title-page  makes  use  of  the  name  of  the  dramatist  or  not  is 
not  clear.] 

Anonymous,  before  1700. 

To  the  Memory  of  John  Dryden,  Esq. 
Methinks  I  see  the  Reverend  Shades  prepare 
With  Songs  of  Joy,  to  waft  thee  through  the  Air.  .  .  . 
Where  Chaucer,  Johnson,  Shakespear,  and  the  rest, 
Kindly  embrace  their  venerable  Guest. 
[Luctus  Britannici,  1700,  p.  36.] 

Thomas  Brown,  before  1700. 

The  scull  of  Goliah  was  brought  in  for  a  punch-bowl  fill'd 
with  such  incomparable  Heliconian  juice,  that  six  drops  of  it 
would  make  a  man  a  better  poet  than  either  Shakespear  or  Ben. 
Johnson. 

[Letters  from  the  Dead  to  the  Living:  Bully  Dawson  to  Bully  Watson; 
printed  in  The  Works  of  Mr.  Thomas  Brown,  1730,  ii,  190.] 


ERRATA  ET  ADDENDA 

P.  3.  The  following  passage  in  a  letter  from  Tobie  Mathew 
to  Dudley  Carleton,  September  20,  1588,  (now  preserved  in  the 
State  Papers,  Domestic  Series,  CCLXVIII,  67),  seems  to  allude 
to  Every  Man  in  his  Humor:  "There  were  with  him  divers 
Almans,  where  of,  one,  lost  out  of  his  purse,  at  a  play  3  hundred 
Crownes.  A  new  play  called,  Every  mans  humour."  The 
"new  play  of  humours  in  very  great  request,"  referred  to  in 
a  letter  from  John  Chamberlain  to  Carleton,  June  n,  1597, 
cannot,  as  Mrs.  Stopes  (Southampton,  p.  106)  thinks,  refer  to 
Every  Man  in  his  Humor. 

P.  59,  line  9.  For  "Sir  John  Cleveland"  read  "John  Cleve 
land." 

P.  94  (cf.  pp.  264,  440).  The  portrait,  with  the  lines  by 
A.  H.,  though  reproduced  in  W.  Bang's  facsimile  reprint  of 
the  1616  Folio  (from  which  this  entry  was  made),  and  often 
inserted  in  copies  of  the  1616  Folio,  was  obviously  not  engraved 
until  after  the  death  of  Jonson  in  1637.  In  1640  it  appears 
in  both  the  Second  Folio  and  Execration  Against  Vulcan.  Some 
copies  of  the  plate  have  at  the  bottom:  "Are  to  be  sould  in 
Popes  head  alley  at  the  white  horse  by  Geo.  Humble";  others 
have  the  statement  concerning  the  sale  of  the  portrait  erased, 
though  a  few  of  the  letters  are  still  decipherable. 

P.   298,    line   29.     For   "Herringham"   read    "Herringman." 

P.  299,  line  5.  For  "  The  Wild-Goose  Chase'1  read  "Second 
Folio." 


INDEX 


Academy  of  Pleasure,  The,  308. 

Adsworth,  Mr.,  136. 

Alton,  Sir  R.,  112,  353. 

Alexander,  Sir  William,  112. 

Alleyn,  Edward,  2,  5,  14,  33. 

Allot,  Robert,  England's  Parnassus,  8. 

Amaryllis  to  Tityrus,  399. 

Andrews,  Dr.,  136. 

Anton,  Robert,  The  Philosophers 
Satyrs,  98. 

Arrowsmith,  William,  The  Reforma 
tion,  373. 

Ashley,  Sir  John,  128. 

Asmund  and  Cornelia,  2. 

Astley,  Sir  John,  122. 

Atchlow,  Thomas,  8. 

Athenian  Mercury,  The,  423,  443. 

Aubrey,  John,  Brief  Lives,  352-58. 

Aungerville,  Richard,  309. 

Austin,  Samuel,  Naps  upon  Parnas 
sus,  317. 

Aylward,  Paul,  282. 

Ayton,  Sir  Robert,  112,  353. 

B.,  Ev.,  52. 

B.,  I.,  334- 

B.,  T.,  445. 

Bacchus  Turn'd  Doctor,  450. 

Bacon,  Sir  Francis,  115,  165,  280,  309, 
3H,  352,  360,  387,  439. 

Bad  Beginning  Makes  a  Good  Ending, 
^,84. 

Baker,  Sir  Richard,  Balzack's  Epis 
tles,  314;  Chronicle  of  England,  276, 

321,334- 
Bancroft,  Thomas,   Glutton's  Feaver, 

175;   Two  Books  of  Epigrams,  260. 
Barclay,  John,  126,  280. 
Barnefield,  Richard,  8. 
Baron,    Robert,    Cyprian    Academy, 

292;   Mirza,  285,  424. 
Bartas,    Guillaume   de   Salluste   du, 


310,314- 


Barwick,  Edward,  321. 

Baskerville,  Sir  Simon,  136. 

Basse,  William,  311. 

Beaumont,  Francis,  57,  65,  72,  78, 
81,  82,  83,  99,  112,  120,  157,  168, 
175,  192,  228,  235,  242,  263,  270, 
273,  279,  281,  282,  286,  287,  288, 
289,  293,  300,  301,  302,  303,  304, 
305,  307,  309,  313,  3l6»  317,  321, 
325,  327,  328,  331,  332,  333,  340, 
341,  343,  349,  35i,  352,  360,  363, 
367,  372,  373,  374,  375,  379,  385, 
386,  396,  403,  409,  410,  413,  429, 
431,437,443,444,  445,  448.  (See 
also  "Beaumont,  Francis,  and  John 
Fletcher.") 

Beaumont,  Francis,  and  John  Fletch 
er,  The  Beggar's  Bush,  320,  326; 
The  Bloody  Brother,  320,  386,  396; 
The  Chances,  326;  The  Elder 
Brother,  320,  326;  The  Faithful 
Shepherdess,  287;  Folio  of  1647, 
286-89;  The  Humorous  Lieutenant, 
320,  325;  A  King  and  No  King, 
320,  326,  386,  396,  405 ;  The  Maid's 
Tragedy,  320,  326,  386,  396,  449; 
Philaster,  320,  326,  343;  The 
Prophetess,  421;  Rollo,  Duke  of 
Normandy,  326;  Rule  a  Wife  and 
Have  a  Wife,  325;  The  Scornful 
Lady,  176,  275,  320,  326,  349,  449; 
The  Spanish  Curate,  322;  The  Two 
Noble  Kinsmen,  273;  Wit  Without 
Money,  320;  The  Woman's  Prize, 
176,  320,  322.  (See  also  "Francis 
Beaumont,"  "John  Fletcher.") 
Beaumont,  Sir  John,  72,  211,  314. 
Beeston,  William,  300. 
Behn,  Aphra,  The  Amorous  Prince, 
360;  The  Emperor  of  the  Meon, 
415. 


453 


454 


INDEX 


Belasye,  Henry,  An  English  Travel 
ler's  First  Curiosity,  313. 

Bell,  William,  297. 

Ben  Jonson's  Head,  The,  334,  373, 
404. 

Berkeley,  Sir  W.,  The  Lost  Lady,  259. 

Berkenhead,  John,  288. 

Betterton,  Thomas,  421. 

Bew,  William,  253. 

Bird,  William,  see  Borne. 

Blagrove,  William,  168. 

Blount,  Edward,  Characters,  see  John 
Earle. 

Blount,  Sir  Thomas  Pope,  De  Re 
Poetica,  444. 

Blundell,  William,  A  Cavalier's  Note 
Book,  447. 

Bodenham,  John,  Belvedere,  7-8. 

Bodine,  John,  280. 

Bolton,  Edmund,  56,  101 ;  Concern 
ing  Historicall  Language  and  Style, 
72;  Hypercritica,  109. 

Bond,  John,  90. 

Borne,  William,  5,  33. 

Bosworth,  William,  The  Chaste  and 
Lost  Lovers,  298. 

Boyle,  Robert,  Some  Considerations, 

329- 

Bradford,  Thomas,  292. 

Breedy,  Daniel,  283. 

Brent,  Nathaniel,  102,  108. 

Breton,  Nicholas,  8,  30;  No  Whip- 
pinge,  Nor  Trippinge,  30. 

Brideoake,  Ralph,  240,  255. 

Brooke,  Lord,  see  Fulke  Greville. 

Brooke,  Christopher,  90. 

Brome,  Alexander,  424;  Poems;  334. 

Brome,  Richard,  144,  289,  302,  311, 
319,  321,  34°.  352,  379,  4J4,  424; 
The  Antipodes,  259,  267;  'The  City 
Wit,  152;  A  Jovial  Crew,  299,  300, 
326,  414;  The  Northern  Lass,  412, 
414,  424;  The  Sparagus  Garden, 
414;  The  Weeding  of  Covent  Garden, 
258,  316. 

Brown,  Thomas,  The  Late  Converts 
Exposed,  421;  A  Letter  to  George 
Moult,  449;  Letters  from  the  Dead 


to  the  Living,  450;  To  Mr.  Dry  den  > 
410;  The  Reasons  of  Mr.  Bays's 
Changing  his  Religion,  417;  A  Re 
cantation,  446. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  Pseudodoxia 
Epidemica,  309. 

Browne,  William,  310,  314;  Brit 
annia's  Pastorals,  93. 

Buc,  Sir  George,  122,  128,  287. 

Buchanon,  George,  440. 

Buckhurst,  Lord,  see  Richard  and 
Thomas  Sackville. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of,  see  George 
Villiers. 

Buckinghamshire,  Duke  of,  see  John  ' 
Sheffield. 

Bude,  William,  280. 

Burbage,  Richard,  332,  449. 

Burkhead,  Henry,  Cola's  Furie,  282, 
283. 

Burlase,  Sir  William,  128. 

Burnet,  Gilbert,  444;  Trans.  More's 
Utopia,  409. 

Burt,  Nicholas,  336. 

Burton,  Robert,  122,  314,  351. 

Bury,  Richard  De,  309. 

Busino,  Horatio,  Anglipotrida,  103. 

Bust,  Matthew,  136. 

Butler,  Samuel,  424;  Characters,  397; 
Hudibras,  327,  351. 

Butter,  Nathaniel,  178. 

C.,  G.,  59- 

C.,  I.,  58,  145;  Epigrames,  36. 

C.,  R.,  298. 

C.,  R.,  The  Time's  Whistle,  90,  187. 

Cabbala,  or  Collections  of  Letters  of 
State,  327. 

Cambises,  26. 

Camden,  William,  112,  113,  115,  316, 
354,  357,  359,  377,  37$,  4".  43O, 
437;  Remaines  Concerning  Brit- 
aine,  33. 

Campion,  Thomas,  33. 

Candish,  Jeremy,  317. 

Cardano,  84. 

Cardennio,  84. 

Carew,  Thomas,  147,  157,  209,  303, 
309,  314,  321,  334,  349,  375,  434- 


INDEX 


455 


Carey,  Lucius,  Viscount  Falkland, 
169,  170,  203,  350,  352;  An  Elegy 
on  Dr.  Donne,  166. 

Carlell,  Lodowick,  Aruiragus  and 
Philicia,  193. 

Carleton,  Sir  Dudley,  40. 

Cartwright,  Thomas  (William?),  334. 

Cartwright,  William,  228,  287,  296, 
297,  298,  305,  309,  321,  334  (?), 
352,425,429,431,444. 

Gary,  Thomas,  281. 

Caryl,  John,  The  English  Princess, 
336. 

Casaubon,  Isaac,  280,  446. 

Cavendish,  Margaret,  Duchess  of 
Newcastle,  324;  Philosophical  Let 
ters,  331;  Poems  and  Fancies,  331. 

Cavendish,  William,  I  Earl  of  New 
castle,  167,  331,  435;  The  Country 
Captain  (reprinted  by  Bullen  as 
Captain  Underwit),  322;  The  Hu 
morous  Lovers,  385;  The  Trium 
phant  Widow,  385;  The  Variety, 
258. 

Censure  of  Rota,  373. 

Cervantes,  Miguel  de,  Don  Quixote, 

351-     • 

Chaloner,  Sir  Thomas,  165. 

Chamberlain,  John,  39,  62,  64,  85, 
86,  87,  88,  99,  100,  103,  107,  108, 
121,  122,  126,  130,  131,  133,  134. 
136. 

Chamberlain,  Robert,  424. 

Chapman,  George,  3,  13,  33,  35.  42, 
43,  44,  59,  72,  83,  99,  102,  112,  113, 
120,  127,  165,  175,  180,  215,  270, 
274,  286,  287,  308,  309,  314,  340, 
425;  Bussy  D'Ambois,  259,  320, 
322,  399,  417,  424,  425?  Eastward 
Hoe,  42,  43,  85,  86,  113,  425,  438; 
Epicure's  Frugality,  187. 

Character  of  Wit's  Squint-Ey'd  Maid, 
The,  401. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  120,  248,  273,  304, 
308,  309,  3",  315,  3i6,  317,  327, 
331,  333,  347,  35i,  352,  359,  373, 
375,  378,  406,  408,  4i6,  423,  44i, 
443,  445,  447,  45<>. 


Chester,  Robert,  13. 

Chettle,  Henry,  England's  Mourning 

Garment,    34;     Hot    Anger    Soon 

Cold,  3;  Robert  II,  King  of  Scots,  5. 
Chetwood,  Knightly,  406. 
Choyce  Drollery,  310,  311. 
Christmas  Ordinary,  The,  319. 
Churchyard,  Thomas,  8,  165,  310. 
Clarendon,    Earl    of,    see     Edward 

Hyde. 
Cleveland,  John,  59,   147,  224,  303, 

307,  314,  317,  321,  407,  4T9,  423» 

443- 
Clifford,    Martin,    Notes    upon    Mr. 

Dryden's  Poems,  415. 
Clun,  Walter,  330,  351,  356. 
Cobb,  Samuel,  Poetce  Britannici,  447. 
Cokaine,   Sir  Aston,    168,   302,   424; 

The    Obstinate   Lady,    260;     Small 

Poems,  317. 

Colepepper,  Sir  Thomas,  159. 
Collier,  Jeremy,  448;    A  Short  View 

of  the  Immorality,  447. 
Congreve,  Wm.,  Letters  upon  Several 

Occasions,  445. 

Constable,  Henry,  7,  72,  172,  308. 
Cook,  John,  King  Charles  his  Case, 

293- 

Cooke,  J.,  Greene's  Tu  Quoque,  136. 
Cooke,  Thomas,  119. 
Corbett,     Richard,     140,    438;      The 

Time's  Whistle,  91. 
Correr,   Marc'   Antonio,   69,   70,   73, 

74,  75,  76. 
Coryat,      Thomas,      117;      Coryat's 

Crudities,   78,   79,   412;    A    Letter 

from  the  Court  of  the  Great  Mogul, 

89. 

Cotton,  Charles,  317,  349- 
Cotton,  Sir  John,  109. 
Cotton,  Sir  Robert,  53,  90,  IO2,  "3, 

136,  140,  440. 

Covent  Garden  Drolery,  372. 
Coventry,  Henry,  216. 
Cowley,  Abraham,  314,  334,  338,  340, 

347,  350,  373,  384,  398,  403,  404, 

406,  423,  424;    Cutter  of  Coleman 


456 


INDEX 


Street,  329;  The  Guardian,  274; 
Poems,  312. 

Crashaw,  Richard,  314. 

Craven,  Mr.,  118. 

Crow,  Sackville,  121. 

Culpeper,  Sir  Thomas,  Essayes,  359. 

D.,  D.,  58. 

D.,  I.,  57;   The  English  Lovers,  324. 

D-,  T.,  373,  423- 

Daborne,  Robert,  85,  309. 

Daniel,  George,  256,  258,  283,  313; 
HOATAOriA,  292. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  7,  33,  37,  72,  99, 
112,  120,  127,  165,  279,  308,  309, 
310,  314,  316,  351,  407. 

Darel,  Dr.,  141. 

D'Avenant,  Charles,  Circe,  406. 

D'Avenant,  Sir  William,  157,  187, 
276,  279,  281,  293,  302,  315,  319, 
321,  333,  334,  338,  339,  352,  359, 
374,  384,  423,  445;  Albovine,  295; 
Gondibert,  304,  443;  The  Just 
Italian,  141;  The  Tempest,  337; 
The  Unfortunate  Lovers,  320;  Wit 
and  Drollery,  324. 

Davenport,  Robert,  A  New  Trick  to 
Cheat  the  Divell,  260. 

Davies,  Sir  John,  8,  120,  165. 

Davies,  John,  of  Hereford,  A  Con 
tinued  Inquisition,  134;  Papers 
Complaint,  80;  The  Scour  go  of 
Folly,  81;  Wit's  Bedlam,  100. 

Davies,  John  (lexicographer),  153. 

Day,  John,  112,  436;  The  Blind 
Beggar  of  Bednal-Green,  317;  Hu 
mour  out  ef  Breath,  55. 

Dee,  John,  353. 

Dekker,  Thomas,  3,  83,  165,  192, 
274,  3«9,  3io,  316,  379,  413,  424, 
425,  431,  444;  A  Knight's  Con 
juring,  54;  Page  of  Plymouth,  5; 
Robert  II,  King  of  Scots,  5;  Satiro- 
mastix,  14-29,  80,  190,  379,  413, 
425,  432. 

Denham,  Sir  John,  286,  373,  384, 
404,  406,  422,  444;  Cooper's  Hill, 
314;  Poems,  347. 

Denny,  William,  193. 


Derby,     Earl     of,     see     Ferdinando 

Stanley. 
Description    of   the   Academy    of   the 

Athenian,  A,  373. 
Digby,   Sir   Kenelm,    102,   201,    209, 

303,  3i8,  349,  353- 
Digges,  Sir  Dudley,  218. 
Digges,  Leonard,  188,  310. 
Dillon,   Wentworth,   4  Earl  of   Ros- 

common,  An  Essay  on   Translated 

Verse,  406;   Horace:    Of  the  Art  of 

Poetry,  408. 
Dixon,  Nicholas,  273. 
Doddridge,  Richard,  268. 
Donne,  George,  236. 
Donne,  John,  34,  37,  56,  68,  90,  116, 

120,  122,  166,  242,  270,  279,  303, 

306,  313,  315,  317,  407,  443;    Wit 

and  Drollery,  324. 
Dorset,  Earl  of,  see  Charles,  Richard, 

and  Thomas  Sackville. 
Dover,    Robert,   Annalia  Dubrensia, 

193. 
Downes,   John,   Roscius  Anglicanus, 

325- 

Downey,  Nicholas,  269. 

Downton,  Thomas,  Robert  II,  King 
of  Scots,  5. 

Drake,  J.,  The  Antient  and  Modern 
Stages  Surveyed,  448. 

Drayton,  Michael,  3,  8,  33,  80,  102, 
112,  120,  127,  134,  137,  165,  193, 
274,  281,  304,  305,  308,  309,  310, 
314,  316,  317,  324,  378,  407,  445; 
Heroical  Epistles,  72 ;  Of  Poets  and 
Poesie,  139. 

Drummond,  William,  37,  117,  118; 
Conversations,  in. 

Dryden,  John,  351,  359,  373,  374, 
386,  398,  401,  403,  406,  410,  415, 
417,  418,  424,  425,  426,  427,  428, 
429,  430,  431,  432,  433,  436,  437, 
443,  444,  445,  450;  Almanzor  and 
Almahide,  368,  415,  426;  The 
Assignation,  375;  The  Conquest  of 
Granada,  366,  367,  368,  373,  431, 
436;  A  Defence  of  an  Essay  of 
Dramatic  Poesy,  345;  Essay  of 


INDEX 


457 


Dramatic  Poesy,  187,  340-345,  431; 
Essay  on  Satire,  442;  An  Evening's 
Love,  326,  366;  The  Grounds  of 
Criticism,  396;  Mac-Flecknoe,  403; 
The  Maiden  Queen,  see  Secret 
Love;  Prologue  to  Albumazar,  346; 
Prologue  to  Circe,  405;  Prologue 
to  Julius  Casar,  371;  Prologue  to 
The  Mistakes,  42 1 ;  Prologue  and 
Epilogue  to  The  Silent  Woman, 
376;  Prologue  to  the  University 
of  Oxford,  376;  Secret  Love,  326, 
336;  Sir  Martin  Mar- All,  337; 
The  Mock  Astrologer,  see  An 
Evening's  Love,  326;  The  Spanish 
Friar,  399,  417;  The  Tempest,  337; 
The  Third  Miscellany,  441;  Trans 
lation  of  Ovid's  Epistles,  398; 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  397;  The 
Vindication,  405;  The  Wild  Gal 
lant,  329. 

Du  Bartas,  Guillaume  de  Sallu.te, 
310,314. 

Duck,  Sir  Arthur,  136. 

Duffet,  Thomas,  432. 

Dugdale,  Gilbert,  The  Time  Tri 
umphant,  38. 

Dugdale,  Sir  William,  327. 

Dunbar,  John,  Epigrammaton,  98. 

Duport,  James,  MUSCB  Subsecivce,  382. 

Duppa,  Bryan,  201,  202,  203. 

D'Urfey,  Thomas,  423  (?);  Butler's 
Ghost,  403;  Collin's  Walk  through 
London  and  Westminster,  420;  A 
New  Essay,  420. 

Durham,  William,  193. 

Dutch  Gazette,  The,  335. 

Dyer,  Sir  Edward,  7,  120,  165. 

Earle,  John,  Blount's  Characters,  i.e., 

•   Microcosmography,  314. 

Edes,  Richard,  3. 

Edmonds,  Sir  Thomas,  39. 

Egerton,    Thomas,    Lord    Ellesmere, 

353- 
Elegies  Sacred  to  the  Memory  of  R. 

Lovelace,  322. 
Eliot,  — ,  195. 
Ellis,  Edmund,  Dia  Poemata,  307. 


England's  Jests  Refin'd,  414. 

Erasmus,  Desidirus,  280. 

Etheredge,  Sir  George,  The  Comical 

Revenge,  332. 
Evans,  Samuel,  254. 
Evelyn,,    Mr.,     The    Immortality    of 

Poesie,  408. 
F.,  I.,  60. 

Fairfax,  Henry,  333. 
Falkland,  Viscount,  see  Lucius  Carey. 
Famous  Tragedie  of  King  Charles  I, 

The,  293. 
Fane,  Sir  Francis,  410;    Love  in  the 

Dark,  380. 

Fane,    Mildmay,    2    Earl    of    West 
moreland,  200,  307. 
Farnaby,    Thomas,     136;     Martialis 

Epigrammata,  279. 
Fealty,  Daniel,  172. 
Feltham,  Owen,  150,  234,  433,  435; 

Lusoria,  152. 
Fennor,  William,  97,  298;    Fennor's 

Descriptions,  98. 
Ferrabosco,  Alfonso,  77. 
Ferrand,  James,  EPOTOMANIA,  270. 
Ferrers,  Edward,  3. 
Field,  Nathaniel,  60,  79,  89,  112,  332. 
Finnett,  John,  Finnetti  Philoxenis,  87, 

93,  103,  120, 121, 123, 125, 129,  131, 

134- 

Fitzgeoffrey,  Charles,  432;  Affania: 
sive  Epigrammatum,  12. 

Fitzgeoffrey,  Henry,  Certain  Elegies, 
119. 

Flatman,  Thomas,  443. 

Flecknoe,  Richard,  403;  A  Discourse 
of  the  English  Stage,  332;  Epi 
grams,  359;  Love's  Kingdom,  332; 
Miscellania,  301;  Sir  William 
D'Avenants  Voyage  to  the  Other 
World,  339. 

Fletcher,  John,  60,  65,  79,  83,  112, 
120,  165,  168,  192,  228,  270,  275, 
279,  281,  282,  283,  286,  287,  288, 
289,  293,  295,  296,  298,  300,  301, 
302,  304,  305,  307,  308,  309,  312, 
313,  3i6,  317,  321,  324»  325.  328, 
329,  331,  332,  333,  337,  340,  341, 


458 


INDEX 


342,  343,  344,  347,  349,  351,  352, 

359,  36o,  363,  366,  367,  368,  369, 

370,  373,  374,  375,  376,  379,  384, 

385,  386,  396,  401,  403,  404,  405, 

409,  410,  413,  415,  417,  419,  421, 

424,  426,  427,  429,  431,  434,  435, 

436,  437,  438,  441,  443,  444,  445, 
448,  449;  Cardennio,  84;  The 
Widow,  299,  320,  322,  326,  435, 
438.  (See  also  "Beaumont,  Fran 
cis,  and  John  Fletcher.") 

Florio,  John,  61. 

Ford,  John,  141,  172,  189,  192,  239, 
310,  424;  An  III  Beginning  has 
a  Good  End,  84;  The  Lover's 
Melancholy,  141. 

Ford,  William,  90. 

Forde,  Thomas,  Love's  Labyrinth, 
321. 

Fortescue,  George,  219. 

Foscarini,  Antonio,  88. 

Fraunce,  Abraham,  165. 

Fuller,  Thomas,  431;  The  Holy  State, 
315;  The  Holy  War,  309;  Worthies, 
276,  327,  407,  412. 

G.,  C.,  267. 

Gar  rat,  George,  90. 

Gascoigne,  George,  8,  165. 

Gayton,  Edmund,  The  Art  of  Lon 
gevity,  317;  Festivous  Notes,  303. 

Gerrard,  George,  94,  100. 

Gesner,  C.,  327. 

Gildon,  Charles,  187. 

Gill,  Alexander,  177,  179,  431,  444. 

Giustinian,  Zorzi,  61,  62,  63. 

Glapthorne,  Henry,  Ar gains  and 
Parthenia,  326;  White-Hall,  275. 

Godolphin,  John,  209. 

Goffe,  Thomas,  293,  309,  335. 

Gomersall,  Robert,  175,  314. 

Goodwin,  R.,  161. 

Gough,  Alexander,  299. 

Gould,  Robert,  Poems,  404. 

Gower,  Edward,  321. 

Gower,  John,  120,  308,  309,  359,  443. 

Grant,  Doctor,  141. 

Great  Assises  Holden  in  Parnassus, 
The,  282. 


Greene,    Robert,   8,   35-36    (?),    120, 

192;   Groats-worth  of  Wit,  79. 
Greene,  Thomas  (?),  35,  36. 
Gresley,  Sir  George,  159. 
Greville,  Sir  Fulke,  7;   Mustapha,  72. 
Grotius,  Hugo,  281. 
H.,     A.,     A     Continued    Inquisition 

against  Paper-Persecutors,  80. 
Habington,  William,  143,  220,  314. 
Hacket,  John,  387,  438. 
Hackwell,  William,  90. 
Hales,  John,  187,  274,  342. 
Hall,  Mr.,  437. 
Hall,  J.,  301. 
Hall,  John,  299. 
Hall,  S.,  269. 

Hammerton,  Stephen,  449. 
Harding,  John  (?),  317. 
Harding,  Samuel,  Sicily  and  Naples, 

268,  269. 
Harington,  Sir  John,  7,  120,  165,  308; 

Orlando  Furioso,  314. 
Harmony  of  the  Muses,  The,  303. 
Harrington,  Henry,  289. 
Harris,  Joseph,  336;    The  Mistakes, 

421. 

Harwood,  Sir  Edward,  107. 
Haustead,    Peter,    430;      The    Rival 

Friends,  430;    Senile  Odium,   185, 

1 86. 

Hawkins,  Sir  Thomas,  202,  213. 
Hayward,  Edward,  96. 
Hectors,  The,  or  the  False  Challenge, 

309- 

Heinsius,  Daniel,  281. 
Heminges,  John,  84,  449. 
Henslowe,  Philip,  I,  2,  5,  14,  33,  85. 
Heraclitus  Ridens,  402. 
Herbert,  Edward,  Lord  of  Cherbury, 

265. 

Herbert,  George,  314,  317. 
Herbert,  Sir  Gerard,  108. 
Herbert,   Sir  Henry,    128,    130,    131, 

134,  136,  141,  160,  168,  176,  177, 

188,  193,  275,  320,  322. 
Herbert,    Mary,    Countess   of    Pem 
broke,  7. 


INDEX 


459 


Herbert,    Philip,    Earl   of   Pembroke 

and  Montgomery,  194. 
Hermeticall  Banquet,  A,  298. 
Herrick,     Robert,     137;     Hesperides, 

290,  291. 

Herringman,  Henry,  298,  396. 
Heyns,  Jo.,  432. 
Heyrick,  Thomas,  422. 
Heywood,  Thomas,  83,  120,  166,  193, 
274,  281,  298,  310,  314,  340,  352, 
433,   436;     The  English    Traveller, 
175;    The  Fair  Maid  of  the  West, 
167;      The    Four    Apprentices    of 
London,  381;    The  Hierarchie,  192, 
314. 

Hills,  Robert,  285. 
Hobbes,  Thomas,  352,  353,  410. 
Hodgson,  William,  264. 
Holland,  Abraham,  94,  134,  264,  440. 

(See  Errata,  p.  451.) 
Holland,  Hugh,  33,  49. 
Holland,  Samuel,  Don  Zara  del  Fog->, 

308. 

Holt,  Dr.,  141. 
Holyday,  Barton,  265,  315. 
Hoskyns,  John,  90,  353,  354,  437. 
Howard,    Edward,    Caroloiades,   416; 
The  Change  of  Crowns,   335 ;  Poems 
and    Essays,    374;     The    Womens 
Conquest,  363. 

Howard,   Henry,    i    Earl   of   North 
ampton,  72. 
Howard,   Henry,   Earl  of  Surrey,   7, 

72,  273. 

Howard,     Sir     Robert,     The     Great 

Favorite,  or  the  Duke  of  Lerma,  338. 

Howard,    Thomas,    Earl    of    Surrey, 

error  for  Henry  Howard,  q.  v.,  7. 
Howe,  Joseph,  289. 
Howell,  James,  222,  286,  315,  359; 
Epistolce  Ho-Eliance,  152,  153,  190, 
191,  194,202. 
Howes,    Edmund,    Annales,    74,    86, 

165. 
Hudson,  Thomas,  8. 

Huntington, ,  317. 

Hyde,   Edward,   Earl  of  Clarendon, 
349- 


I.,  W.,  The  Whipping  of  the  Satyre,  29. 

Izod,  Francis,  193. 

J.,F.,295. 

James,  Francis,  138. 

James,  Richard,  137,  138. 

Jevon,  Thomas,  The  Devil  of  a  Wife, 

410. 

Johnson,  Robert,  77. 
Jones,   Inigo,  76,  77,   102,   108,   114, 

130,  160,  168,  176,  178,  190,  191, 

305,  333- 
JONSON,  BEN, 

The  Alchemist,  73,  82,  84,  128,  147, 
153.  156,  168,  189,  191,  196,  198, 
226,  227,  228,  262,  291,  303,  313, 
322,  323,  325,  326,  330,  331,  338, 

341 ,  345,  346,  350,  353,  378,  407, 
422,  432,  449. 

Ars  Poetica,  116,  147,  264,  265,  266, 
267,  398,  401. 

The  Augurs,  123,  125,  126,  263. 

Bacchus  Turn'd  Doctor,  450. 

Bartholomew  Fair,  85,  87,  89,  166, 
167,  264,  313,  322,  323,  326,  330, 
337,  338,  341,  345,  35°,  362,  379, 
407,  420,  432,  436,  446,  449. 

Beauty,  6 1,  62,  63,  64,  65. 

Ben  Jonson  his  Motives,  126. 

Ben  Jonson:  His  Part  of  King 
James  His  Royall  and  Magnifi 
cent  Entertainment,  38. 

Blackness,  39,  40,  41,  65. 

The  Case  is  Altered,  8,  37,  70,  71. 

Catiline,  78,  79,  80,  153,  163,  188, 
191,  207,  215,  219,  226,  231,  235, 
244,  249,  267,  269,  276,  285,  292, 
295,  319,  326,  330,  336,  338,  339, 
341,  342,  344,  345,  368,  369,  377, 

378,  379,  38o,  381,  383,  386,  387, 
395,  401,  402,  405,  408,  409,  416, 
424,  432,  443- 

The  Characters  of  Two  Royal  Mas 
ques,  65. 

Chloridia,  159,  160. 
On  the  Court  Pucelle,  117. 
Cynthia's  Revels,  11,  156,  191,  273, 

379,  407- 


460 


INDEX 


The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  116,  264,  270, 

325,  326,  327,  331,  377,  420. 
Discoveries,  344,  447. 

Eastward  Hoe,  42,  43,  85,  86,  113, 
425,  438. 

English  Grammar,  183,  443. 

Epicoene,  73,  81,  82,  117,  119,  156, 
191,  193,  194.  T96,  260,  304,  320, 
321,  322,  323,  326,  330,  335,  336, 
339,  341,  342,  344,  346,  349,  368, 
376,  378,  402,  407,  421,  430,  433, 
445,  446,  448,  449. 

Epigrams,  81,  153,  260,  354,  355, 
379,  408. 

Every  Man  in  His  Humor,  6,  8,  12, 
14,  21,  29,  40,  54,  80,  160,  191, 

326,  335,  343,  354,  368,  370,  37i, 
380,426,432,446,  451. 

Every  Man  out  of  His  Humor,  6,  8, 
21,  28,  29,  40,  54,  80,  122,  228, 
261,  318,  326,  354,  358,  375,  376, 
432. 

An  Execration  upon    Vulcan,  264, 

3ii,356,45i- 

The  Forest,  9. 

The  Fortunate  Isles,  134,  135,  136, 
141. 

The  Fountain  of  Self -Love,  12. 

The  Golden  Age  Restored,  93. 

Hadington,  Viscount,  Masque  at 
the  Marriage  of,  65. 

Hot  Anger  Soon  Cold,  3. 

Hue  and  Cry  after  Cupid,  64. 

Hymenai,  52,  53. 

Irish  Masque,  85-86. 

The  Isle  of  Dogs,  i,  2,  5,  21. 

Love  Freed  from  Ignorance  and 
Folly,  73,  74,  75,  76,  78. 

Love  Restored,  74. 

Lovers  Made  Men,  100. 

Loves  Triumph  through  Callipolis, 
•  1 60. 

The  Magnetic  Lady,  153,  167,  177, 
179,  185,  186,  282,  431,  432,  444. 

Masques,  see  under  each  title. 

The  May  Lord,  115. 

Mercury  Vindicated  from  the  Al 
chemists,  86,  87,  88. 


The  Metamorphosed  Gipsies,  121, 
263,  448. 

Moors,  see  Blackness. 

Mortimer  His  Fall,  167. 

Narcissus,  the  Fountain  of  Self- 
Love,  12. 

Neptune's  Triumph,  131,  133,  263. 

The  New  Inn,  141,  144,  147,  149, 
151,  160,  196,  281,  282,  289,  433, 
435,440. 

News  from  the  New  World,  120,  121. 

Oberpn,  74,  75. 

Ode  to  Himself,  143,  145,  147,  150, 

433- 

Page  of  Plymouth,  5. 
Pan's  Anniversary,  263. 
Pleasure  Reconciled  to  Virtue,  102, 

103,  107,  108. 
Poetaster,  12,   14,  29,  32,  33,  114, 

190,  3*5,  328,  379,  4°7,  425,  426, 
431,  432,  434,  444. 

The  Poet  to  the  Painter,  128. 

Queens,  68,  69,  70,  71,  285. 

Richard  Crookback,  33. 

Robert  II,  King  of  Scots,  5. 

The  Sad  Shepherd,  167,  318. 

The  Scots  Tragedy,  5. 

Sejanus,   37,    44,    48,    49,    50,    51, 

52,  54,  57,  73,  97,  "5,  153,  163, 
171,  188,  191,  207,  235,  243,  249, 
267,  269,  276,  283,  285,  319,  326, 
341,  344,  345,  379,  381,  384,  402, 
405,  408,  428,  433. 

The  Staple  of  News,  137,  138,  166, 
167,  264. 

A  Tale  of  a  Tub,  167,  176,  177,  188, 
282,  308,  356,  358. 

Time  Vindicated  to  Himself  and  to 
his  Honors,  129,  130,  263. 

Underwoods,  9,  128,  352,  379,  408. 

The  Vision  of  Delight,  99. 

Volpone,  38,  56,  57,  58,  59,  60,  61, 
73,  83,  123,  127,  134,  153,  189, 

191,  196,  226,  259,  267,  269,  278, 
292,  303,  304,  325,  326,  333,  345, 
35.8_,  372,  378,  380,  383,  402,  405, 
407,  422,  433,  445,  449. 


INDEX 


461 


The    Widow,   299,   320,   322,   326, 

435,  438. 
The  Wits  Academy,  308. 

Jonson  Head,  The  Ben,  334,  373,  404. 

Jonson,  Ben,  Junior,  372,  439. 

Jonsonus  Virbius,  202-256,  315,  440. 

Jordan,  Thomas,  London's  Resurrec 
tion,  333. 

Juby,  Edward,  3. 

Just  Italian,  The,  157. 
.  K.,  W.,  328. 

Kelyne,  J.,  328. 

Kemp,  Edward,  186. 

Kempe,  Will,  32. 

Killigrew,  Thomas,  209,  336,  434; 
Claracilla,  320. 

Kindlemarsh,  Francis,  8. 

King,  Edward,  315. 

King,  Henry,  214,  303. 

Kirkman,  Francis,  300,  324;  The 
Wits,  or  Sport  upon  Sport,  375. 

Knevet,  Ralph (?),  172. 

Kyd,  Thomas,  3,  8,  192;  The  Span 
ish  Tragedy,  14,  19,  21,  33. 

Kynder,  Philip,  The  Surfeit,  313. 

Lacy,  John,  355,  356,  358. 

Lady  Alimony,  190. 

Lake,  Sir  Thomas,  68. 

Lambard,  William,  316. 

Lando,  Girolamo,  125. 

Langbaine,  Gerard,  444;  An  Account  of 
the  English  Dramatick  Poets,  424- 
437;  Momus  Triumphans,  418. 

Lapthorne,  RicVard,  440. 

Laureat,  The:    Jack  Squabb,  280. 

Lee,  Nathaniel,  401;  Caesar  Borgia, 
399;  Lucius  Junius  Brutus,  399. 

Legge,  Thomas,  3. 

Leigh,  Edward,  A  Treatise  of  Reli 
gion  and  Learning,  309. 

Leland,  John,  359. 

Lenton,  Francis,  The  Young  Gallants 
Whirligig,  141. 

L'Estrange,  Sir  Nicholas,  Merry  Pas 
sages  and  Jests,  91,  140. 

Ling,  W.,  270. 

Lingua,  33. 

Lipsius,  Justus,  280. 


Lisle,  Sir  George,  286. 

Locke,  Henry,  8. 

Locke,  Thomas,  120. 

Lodge,  Thomas,  7. 

Love  a  la  Mode,  328. 

Lovelace,  Richard,  314,  315,  322. 

Loves  and  Adventures  of  Clerico  and 

Lozia,  301. 
Love's  Martyr,  13. 
Love's  Mistery,  320. 
Lowin,  John,  160,  179,  449. 
Lucius  Britannici,  450. 
Lucy,  George,  82. 
Lupo,  Thomas,  77. 
Lydgate,  John,  317. 
Lyly,  John,  165. 
Lynn,  George,  270. 
Machin,  Lewis,  Every  Woman  in  her 

Humor,  54. 
Malvezzi,  V.,  315. 
Manningham,  John,  33. 
Mariot,  Richard,  298,  396. 
Markham,  Gervaise,  8,  112. 
Markham,  W.,  258. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  3,  8,  165,  192, 

355,  434;    Hero  and  Leander,  35, 

72,  192,  298,  434. 
Marmion,  Shackerley,  237;    A   Fine 

Companion,  175,  186. 
Marriot,  John,  126,  175. 
Marston,  John,  6,  8,  13,  14,  29,  30, 

33,    50,    113,    114,    120,    165,   425; 

Eastward  Hoe,  42,  43,  85,  86,  113, 

425,    438;      The    Malcontent,    38; 

Sophonisba,   54;     What    You    Will, 

9,  ii. 

Martin,  Richard,  90,  437. 
Martyn,  John,  298,  396. 
Marvell,  Andrew,  Tom  May's  Death, 

399- 

Mascardus,  Augustine,  281. 
Massinger,  Philip,  120,  194,  195,  281, 

302,  309,  314,  321,  340,  434,  445; 

The  Emperor  of  the  East,  168;    A 

New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  313. 
May,   Thomas,    141,    170,    192,    199, 

217,    281,    314,    349,    399,    40°; 

Pharsalia,  310. 


462 


INDEX 


Maynard,  Sir  John,  134. 

Mayne,  Jasper,  209,  225,  298. 

Mead,  Joseph,  122. 

Meade,  Robert,  245. 

Mennes,  Sir  John,  Musarum  Deli- 
cice,  306-307,  382;  Wit  and  Drol 
lery,  324. 

Mercurius  Aulicus,  281. 

Mercurius  Britannicus,  276,279,281. 

Mercurius  Civicus,  281. 

Meres,  Francis,  165;  Palladis  Tamia, 

3- 

Meriton,  Thomas,  434. 
Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton,  The,  326. 
Middleton,  Christopher,  8. 
Middleton ,  Thomas,   112,   120,    140, 

166,    192,    310,    434,    436;     More 

Dissemblers   Besides    Women,    131; 

The    Widow,    299,    320,    322,   326, 

435,  438. 

Milton,  John,  315,  423,  441;  L' 'Alle 
gro,  1 68. 

Mirror  for  Magistrates,  The,  3. 
Miscellany  Poems  and   Translations, 

409. 

Mocket,  Richard,  90. 
Molin,  Nicolo,  39,  41. 
Montgomery,  Earl  of,  see  Philip 

Herbert. 
More,  John,  74. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  72,  120. 
Morison,  Sir  Henry,  169,  170. 
Morley,  Caleb,  136. 
Mosely,  Humphrey,  273,  296,  318. 
Mountford,  William,  Greenwich-Park, 

421;      The    Injur'd    Lovers,    418; 

King  Edward  III,   422. 
Mourneful  Dittie  Entitled  Elizabeth's 

Losse,  A,  36. 
Mucedorus,  54. 

Musarum  Delicice,  306-07,  382. 
Musarum  Oxoniensium,  280. 
Nabbes,   Thomas,    Tottenham   Court, 

176;    The  Unfortunate  Mother,  268. 
Nashe,   Thomas,    8,    120,    192;     The 

Isle  of  Dogs,   i,  2,  5,  21 ;    Lenten 

Stuff e,  5. 


Newcastle,  Duchess  of,  see  Margaret 
Cavendish. 

Newcastle,  Duke  of,  see  William 
Cavendish. 

None-Such  Charles,  The,  295,  356. 

Northampton,  Earl  of,  see  Henry 
Howard. 

Norton,  Thomas,  8. 

Ogilby,  John,  403. 

Oldham,  John,  424,  431,  443;  Horace 
His  Art  of  Poetry  Imitated,  402; 
Ode  upon  the  Works  of  Ben  Jonson, 
387-395;  A  Satyr,  398;  Satyrs 
upon  the  Jesuits,  395;  Translation 
of  Horace  His  Art  of  Poetry,  401. 

Oldys,  William,  Poetical  Characteris- 
ticks,  92. 

Overbury,  Sir  Thomas,  33,  112,  314, 

439- 

Owen,  John,  308. 
Oxford,  Edward,  Earl  of,  see  Edward 

De  Vere. 
P.,  E.,  203. 
Packer,  John,  39. 
Painter,  William,  128. 
Paiton,  Edward,  317. 
Parker,    Martin,    The   Poet's   Blind- 
man's  Bough,  273. 
Parnassus  Biceps,  312. 
Parrott,  Henry,  Laquei  Ridiculosi,  84. 
Parsons,  Robert,  72. 
Pasquil's  Mad-cap,  30,  79. 
Paulet,     Sir     William,     Marquis    of 

Winchester,  7. 
Pecke,    Thomas,    Parnassi  Puerper- 

ium,  319. 

Peele,  George,  3,  8. 
Pembroke,    Countess    of,    see    Mary 

Herbert. 

Pembroke,  Earl  of,  see  Philip  Her 
bert. 
Pepys,  Samuel,  Diary,  321,  322,  327, 

330,  333,  335,  338,  350. 
Philips,  Mrs.  Katherine,  Poems,  404. 
Phillips,   Edward,   Mysteries  of  Love 

and    Eloquence,    316;      The    New 

World    of    English     Words,     316; 

Theatrum  Poetarum,  378;    Tracta- 


INDEX 


463 


lulus  de  Carmine  Dramatico  Poeta- 

rum,  351. 

Phillips,  John,  Maronides,  375. 
Plume,  Thomas,  The  Plume  MSS., 

91,  92. 
Poems  of  Ben  Jonson  Junior,    The, 

372. 

Poems  on  Affairs  of  State,  272,  406. 
Poeta  de  Tristibus,  403. 
Poeticall  Recreations,  416. 
Pollard,  Thomas,  449. 
Poole,  Joshua,  The  English  Parnassus, 

314- 

Porter,  Endymion,  102,  187,  189,  198. 
Porter,   Henry,   3;    Hot  Anger  Soon 

Cold,  3. 

Porter,  Thomas,  The  Carnival,  326. 
Pory,  John,  53,  168,  172,  177. 
Powell,  Edward,  288. 
Preston,  Thomas,  Cambises,  439. 
Price,  Daniel,  141. 
Prior,     Matthew,    A     Satyr    on    the 

Modern  Translators,  406. 
Prujean,  Thomas,  Aurorata,  278. 
Prycer,  John,  382. 
Prynne,  William,  243,  274. 
Purchas,  Samuel,  90. 
Purfoote,  Thomas,  178. 
Puttenham,  George,  The  Art  of  Eng 
lish  Poesie,  116. 
Quarles,  Francis,  170,  308,  310,  314, 

315,321. 
R.,   S.,    The   Curtaine-Drawer  of  the 

World,  83. 
R,  T.,  57- 
R.,  Th.,  50. 
Radcliffe,    Alexander,     The    Sword's 

Farewell,  404. 

Raillerie  a  la  Mode  Considered,  375. 
Rainsford,  Sir  H.,  352. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  7,  114,  309,  357, 

358,  437- 
Ramsay,  H.,  245. 
Ramsey,    William,    The   Gentleman's 

Companion,  351. 
Randolph,   Thomas,    143,    157,    J72, 

189,   193,  242,  258,  268,  270,  283, 

-284,  294,  303,  304,  314,  321,  325» 


334,  340,  352,  4!3,  419,  43*.  435, 
436,  443,  444;  Amyntas,  284;  Hey 
for  Honesty,  295;  The  Jealous 
Lovers,  189,  268,  284;  The  Muses' 
Looking  Glass,  268. 

Rawley,  William,  387. 

Returne  from  Pernassus,  The,  32. 

Richard  Crookback,  33. 

Richards,  William,  The  Christmas 
Ordinary,  319. 

Richome,  Lewis,  285. 

Rives,  Dr.,  136. 

Robinson,  Hugh,  136. 

Robinson,  Richard,  449. 

Rochester,  John  Wilmot,  Earl  of,  386. 

Roe,  Sir  John,  36,  112. 

Roe,  Sir  Thomas,  50,  57. 

Rogers,  John,  185. 

Roscommon,  Earl  of,  see  Wentworth 
Dillon. 

Rowe,  Nicholas,  187. 

Rowley,  William,  120,  340,  434; 
The  Birth  of  Merlin,  436. 

Rump,    276. 

Rutter,  Joseph,  233. 

Rymer,  Thomas,  444,  448;  Preface 
to  translation  of  Rapin,  377;  A 
Short  View  of  Tragedy,  443;  The 
Tragedies  of  the  Last  Age,  386. 

S.,  C,  Sir,  373. 

S.,  E.,  59. 

S.,  J.,  The  Prince  of  Priggs  Revels, 

295. 
Sackville,   Charles,   Earl   of   Dorset, 

Poems,  380. 
Sackville,  Richard,  Lord  Buckhurst, 

211. 

Sackville,  Thomas,  I  Earl  of  Dorset, 
3;  Gorboduc,  18,  72,  443;  Mirror 
for  Magistrates,  72. 

Salisbury,  Sir  John,  13. 

Sandys,  George,  170,  279,  281,  285, 
310,314,315,317,352- 

Scaliger,  Joseph,  281. 

Scarron's  Comical  Romance,  384. 

Scory,  Edward,  60. 

Scout,  The,  281. 


464 


INDEX 


Scrope,  Sir  Carr,  In  Defence  of  Satyr, 
386. 

Sedley,  Sir  Charles,  373,  376;  Antony 
and  Cleopatra,  397;  The  Mulberry 
Garden,  397;  The  Wandering  La 
dies,  338. 

Selden,  John,  89,  94,  102,  113,  136, 
225,  281,  316,  319,  349,  351,  437, 
438;  Titles  of  Honor,  86,  165. 

Settle,  Elkanah,  Cambyses,  337. 

Shadwell,  Thomas,  339,  403,  436,  441, 
444;  Bury- Fair,  419;  Epsom- 
Wells,  373,  436;  The  Humorists, 
360,  436;  The  Lancashire  Witches, 
403;  The  Libertine  Destroyed,  405; 
Psyche,  380;  The  Royal  Shepherdess, 
349;  The  Squire  of  Alsatia,  419; 
The  Sullen  Lovers,  348;  A  True 
Widow,  397;  The  Virtuoso,  385; 
The  Volunteers,  441. 

Shakespeare,  William,  3,  8,  13,  32, 
33,  35,  36,  72,  83,  91,  92,  120,  141, 
165,  168,  175,  177,  187,  188,  189, 
192,  195,  225,  228,  235,  242,  246, 
248,  259,  263,  270,  273,  274,  276, 
278,  279,  281,  282,  283,  286,  287, 
292,  293,  294,  295,  298,  299,  300, 
301,  302,  304,  305,  307,  308,  309, 
312,  313,  314,  316,  317,  318,  321, 
322,  324,  325,  327,  328,  331,  332, 
333,  335,  337,  338,  339,  34»,  342, 
343,  344,  347,  348,  35i,  358,  359, 
360,  366,  367,  368,  369,  370,  371, 
372,  373,  374,  375,  376,  377,  378, 
379,  38o,  382,  384,  385,  386,  396, 
397,  398,  399,  401,  403,  404,  405, 
406,  407,  409,  410,  413,  415,  416, 
417,  418,  420,  421,  422,  423,  424, 
426,  427,  429,  431,  436,  437,  441, 
442,  443,  444,  445,  447,  448,  449, 
450;  ,4s  You  Like  It,  6;  The  Com 
edy  of  Errors,  418;  Hamlet,  421, 
449;  Henry  IV,  189,  294,  304,  316, 
320,  326,  339,  348,  449;  Henry  IV, 
Part  2,  20;  Henry  V,  6;  Julius 
Caesar,  188,  326,  371,  372,  380, 
386;  Macbeth,  369,  401 ;  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windsor,  20,  313,  320, 


326,  396;  Much  Ado  About  Nothing, 
6,  84,  189;  Othello,  188,  295,  320, 
326,  386,  405,  406,  449;  Pericles, 
151,  300,  406;  The  Rape  of  Lucrecet 
351;  Richard  II,  2;  Richard  III, 
2;  Romeo  and  Juliet,  304;  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  371;  The 
Tempest,  337,  397;  Titus  Androni- 
cus,  326;  Troilus  and  Cressida,  397; 
Twelfth  Night,  189;  The  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen,  273;  Venus  and  Adonis, 
351. 

Shank,  John,  311,  449. 

Shaw,  Robert,  1,2,3. 

Sheffield,  John,  Duke  of  Bucking 
hamshire,  Essays  upon  Poetry,  404. 

Sheppard,  Samuel,  Epigrams  Theo 
logical,  295;  The  Times  Displayed, 
283. 

Sherburn,  Edward,  99,  108. 

Shirley,  James,  143,  279,  293,  298, 
302,  310,  321,  340,  352,  375,  384, 
424,  437,  445;  The  Cardinal,  301, 
326;  The  Example,  326;  The 
Grateful  Servant,  143,  301 ;  Love's 
Cruelty,  166,  320;  '  The  Oppor 
tunity,  326;  Poems,  262;  The 
Royal  Master,  258;  The  Sisters, 
274;  The  Traitor,  320,  326,  380;  The 
Wedding,  320. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  7,  33,  120,  127,. 
165,  274,  279,  280,  283,  309,  314, 
316,  324,  360,  429;  The  Arcadia,. 

304- 

Singer,  John,  2. 
Skelton,  John,  137,  308. 
Smith,  James,  Musarum  Delicice,  306,. 

307,  382;    Wit  and  Drollery,  324. 
Southwell,  Robert,  72. 
Speake,  George,  90. 
Speed,    Samuel,    Fragmenta   Carceris^ 

377- 

Spelman,  Sir  Henry,  316,  440. 

Spencer,  Gabriel,  I,  2,  3,  4,  5,  21. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  7,  33,  99,  120,  127^ 
165,  168,  273,  279,  281,  283,  292r 
304,  308,  309,  311,  315,  316,  317^ 
33i,  333,  339,  347,  35 1,  352,  377,. 


INDEX 


465 


378,  404,  406,  408,  416,  423,  443, 
445- 

Spilman.  Sir  Henry,  136. 
Stanley,  Ferdinando,  5  Earl  of  Derby, 

7- 

Stanton,  William,  296. 
Stapylton,    Sir    Robert,    296;      The 

Slighted  Maid,  328,  405. 
Stevenson,  Matthew,  Poems,  375. 
Storer,  Thomas,  8. 
Stow,    John,    Annales,    86,    165;     A 

Survey  of  London,  327. 
Strachey,  William,  51. 
Stroad,  William,  see  William  Strode. 
Strode,  William,  303. 
Suckling,  Sir  John,  187,  292,  293,  298, 
309,  321,  332,  334,  338,  340,  342, 
352,  359,  422,  425,  433,  438,  444; 
Aglaura,  259,  322,  332;  Fragmenta 
Aurea,2"j^\   The  Sad  One,  270,  273, 
318;  A  Session  of  the  Poets,  196. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  see  Henry  Howard. 
Sutcliffe,  Matthew  (?),  66. 
Sutton,  Christopher  (?),  141. 
Sutton,  Thomas,  358,  407. 
Swanston,  Elliard,  449. 
Sykes,  James,  441. 
Sylvester,  Joshua,  8,   120,    127,   165, 

281,  310,  321. 
Synger,  John,  2. 

Tate,  Nahum,  409,  443;  Commenda 
tory  Poem  to  The  Sacrifice,  410; 
Cuckolds-Haven,  409;  Loyal  Gen 
eral,  187. 

Tatham,  John,  300,  314;  The  Fancies 
Theater,  270;  London's  Triumphs, 
333- 

Taylor,    John,    199,    267,    281,    298, 
334-335;     Part   of  this   Summer's 
Travels,   260;     The  Penniless  Pil 
grimage,  109;   The  Praise  of  Hemp- 
seed,  120;   The  Sculler,  84. 
Taylor,  Joseph,  86,  160,  179,  449. 
Tenison,  Thomas,  Baconiana,  387. 
Terrent,  Thomas,  247. 
Tichborne,  Arthur,  375. 
Times  Whistle,  The,  90,  187. 


Tomkins,    John,    307;     Albumazar 

338,  346. 

Tottham,  —  (John  Tatham  ?),  314. 
Towers,  W.,  296. 
Towers,  William,  306. 
Townley,  Zouch,  140,  141,  179,  266. 
Townsend,  Aurelian,  33  (?),  168. 
Trundle,  John,  178. 
Trussell,  John,  193. 
Tubbe,  Henry,  293. 
Tunstall,  William,   To  Mr.  Heyrick, 

422. 

Turnebus,  Adrian,  280. 
Unfortunate  Usurper,  The,  328. 
Vaughan,  Francis,  297. 
Vaughan,  Henry,  289;  Poems,  284. 
Vaughan,  Sir  John,  349,  367. 
Veel,  Robert,  New  Court-Songs,  373. 
Venetian    Ambassador,    see    Nicolo 
Molin,     Zorzi     Giustinian,     Marc 
Antonio  Correr,  Antonio  Foscarini, 
Girolamo  Lando. 

Vere,   Edward   De,   17  Earl  of  Ox 
ford,  7. 

Vernon,  John,  223. 
Villiers,   George,    Duke  of   Bucking 
ham,  The  Rehearsal,  372. 
V index  Anglicus,  279. 
Vossius,  Conradus,  281. 
W.,  G.,  258. 
W.,  S.,  316. 

Walker,  Sir  Edward,  198. 
Waller,  Edmund,  209,  221,  315,  317, 
334,  352,  373,  404,  422,  423,  443; 
To  Mr.  Creech,  404. 
Walton,  Isaac,  357. 
Ward,  John,  Diary,  324. 
Waring,    Robert,   250,   296;    Amoris 

Effigies,  330,  440. 

Warner,  William,  165;   Albion's  Eng 
land,  35. 
Washbourne,  Thomas,  Divine  Poems, 

306. 

Watkyns,    Rowland,    Poems   without 
Fictions,  325. 

Watson,  ,  359. 

Watson,  Thomas,  3,  7,  192. 


466 


INDEX 


Webbe,  Joseph,  Entheatus  Materialis, 

142. 
Webster,  John,    166,   192,  309,  436; 

The  White  Devil,  83,  322,  326. 
Weever,    John,    Epigrammes    in    the 

Oldest  Cut,  6. 
Went  worth,   Dillon,  4  Earl  of   Ros- 

common,  401 
West,  Richard,  242,  270. 
Westmorland,  Earl  of,  see  Mildmay 

Fane. 
Wheeler,    Edmund,   Carmen    Lauda- 

torium,  377. 
Whetstone,  George,  8. 
Whipper  of  the  Satire,  The,  30. 
Whitlock,    Richard    ZttOTOMIA  306. 
Whyte,  Rowland,  64. 
Wilde,    Robert,    333;     The  Benefice, 

294;    Poems,  312. 
Willford,  Thomas,  Hyemall  Pastimes, 

199. 
Wilmot,    John,    Earl    of    Rochester, 

Poems,  386. 
Wilmot,  Robert,  8. 
Wilson,  John,  Belphegor,  420;     The 

Cheats,  325,  331;    The  Projectors, 

331. 
Winchester,    Sir    William,    Marquis 

of,  7- 


Winstanley,  William,  444;  England1  s 
Worthies,  406;  Lives,  411. 

Winwood,  Sir  Ralph,  39,  40. 

Wisdom,  Robert,  66. 

Wisdom  of  Doctor  Doddipol,  The,  28. 

Wit  for  Money:   or  Poet  Stutter,  424. 

Wither,  George,  120,  130,  166,  274, 
281,  308,  310,  314;  Abuses  Stript 
and  Whipt,  127;  Faire-  Virtue,  127. 

Wit  Restored  in  Several  Select  Poems 
not  Formerly  Published,  198. 

Wits  Academy,  The,  308. 

Wit's  Recreations,  271,  272. 

Wood,  Anthony  a,  354,  357,  358,  386, 
431,  444;  AthencB  Oxonienses,  126, 
1 80,  437-440. 

Wortley,  Sir  Francis,  247. 

Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  72,  102. 

Wotton,  William,  Reflections  upon 
Ancient  and^  Modern  Learning,  443. 

Wright,  Benjamin,  198. 

Wright,  James,  Country  Conversa 
tions,  445;  Historia  Histrionica, 
448. 

Wright,  John,  Thyestes,  377. 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  72. 

Wycherley,  William,  The  Plain 
Dealer,  443. 

Wyclif,  John,  441. 

Young,  Sir  John,  439. 


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