In this wretched termination of his life, he sunk once more beneath his great rival Shakspeare; for Shakspeare retired, long previous to his death, to the comforts of leisure and independence; nor ever made drafts on the compassion of mankind for the pleasures of existence.

Ben Jonson died in 1637, was buried in Westminster Abbey; and his gravestone has merely the following words, to denote the extraordinary gifts, of which he had been possessed.

"O Rare Ben Jonson!"

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.

ACT THE FIRST..

SCENE I.

A Court Yard before KNO'WELL's House.

Enter KNO'WELL and BRAINWORM.

Kno. A goodly day toward, and a fresh morning. Brainworm,

Call up young master.

Bid him rise, sir.

Tell him I have some business to employ him.

Bra. I will, sir, presently.

Kno. But hear you, sirrah,

If he be at his book, disturb him not.

Bra. Well, sir.

[Exit.

Kno. How happy, yet, should I esteem myself,
Could I, by any practice, wean the boy
From one vain course of study he affects.
He is a scholar, if a man may trust
The liberal voice of Fame in her report,
Of good account in both our universities;
Either of which hath favoured him with graces:
But their indulgence must not spring in me
A fond opinion, that he cannot err.

Enter MASTER STEPHEN.

Cousin Stephen,

What news with you, that you are here so early?

Step. Nothing, but e'en come to see how you do, uncle.

Kno. That's kindly done, you are welcome, coz. Step. Ay, I know that, sir, I would not ha' come else. How doth my cousin Edward, uncle?

Kno. Oh, well, coz, go in and see; I doubt he be scarce stirring yet.

Step. Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me an' he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking and hunting? I would fain borrow it.

Kno. Why, I hope you will not a-hawking now, will you?

Step. No wosse, but I'll practise against the next year, uncle. I have bought me a hawk, and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing, but a book to keep

it by.

Kno. Oh, most ridiculous!

Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle. Why, you know, an' a man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages now-a-days, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than the Greek or the Latin. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsden, I shall keep company with none but the citizens, that come a ducking to Islington ponds! A fine jest, i'faith! 'Slid, a gentleman mun show himself like a gentleman. I know what I have to do, I am no novice.

Kno. You are a prodigal, absurd, coxcomb: go to! Nay, never look at me, it's I that speak.

Take it as you will, sir, I'll not flatter you.
Ha' you not yet found means, enow, to waste
That which your friends have left you, but you must
Go cast away your money on a kite;

And know not how to keep it, when you've done?
Oh, it's comely! This will make you a gentleman!
Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope
Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it,
You look another way.

Step. What would you ha' me do?

Kno. What would I have you do! I'll tell you, kinsman ;

Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive;
That would I have thee do: and not to spend
Your coin on every bawble that you fancy,
Or every foolish brain that humours you.

Enter a SERVANT.

Serv. 'Save you, gentlemen.

Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our gentility, friend; and I assure you, mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a-year, Middlesex land; he has but one son in all the world, I am his next heir at the common law, Master Stephen, as simple as I stand here; if my cousin die, as there's hope he will. I have a pretty living o'my own too, beside, hard by here.

Serv. In good time, sir.

Step. In good time, sir! Why? And in very good time, sir. You do not flout, friend, do you?

Serv. Not I, sir.

Step. Not you, sir? You were not best, sir: an' you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too. And they can give it again soundly too an' need be.

Serv. Why, sir, let this satisfy you; good faith, I had no such intent.

Step. Sir, an' I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.

Serv. Good Master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.

Step. And so I would, sir, good my saucy companion, an' you were out o'my uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in't.

Kno. Cousin! cousin! Will this ne'er be left.

Step. Whorson base fellow! A mechanical serving