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 him 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 "Endymion 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, 1628[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 51i.

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 answere.

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 intreatę 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 demonstration of 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, 1628[-9]:

[Sl. MS. 1466 ff., 203 f., printed by W. D. Briggs, Modern Philology, xi, 286. Jonson's answer appears to be lost.]

James Shirley, 1629.

To the Right Honourable Francis, Earl of 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 acknowledged master, learned Jonson) disgracing nature, and harmonious poësy, are transported 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;

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.

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.