own use."
Accordingly Jonson read not only the Greek and Latin classics down to
the lesser writers, but he acquainted himself especially with the Latin
writings of his learned contemporaries, their prose as well as their
poetry, their antiquities and curious lore as well as their more solid
learning. Though a poor man, Jonson was an indefatigable collector of
books. He told Drummond that "the Earl of Pembroke sent him 20 pounds
every first day of the new year to buy new books." Unhappily, in 1623,
his library was destroyed by fire, an accident serio-comically described
in his witty poem, "An Execration upon Vulcan." Yet even now a book
turns up from time to time in which is inscribed, in fair large Italian
lettering, the name, Ben Jonson. With respect to Jonson's use of his
material, Dryden said memorably of him: "[He] was not only a professed
imitator of Horace, but a learned plagiary of all the others; you track
him everywhere in their snow.... But he has done his robberies so openly
that one sees 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." And yet it is but fair to say that Jonson prided himself, and
justly, on his originality. In "Catiline," he not only uses Sallust's
account of the conspiracy, but he models some of the speeches of Cicero
on the Roman orator's actual words. In "Poetaster," he lifts a whole
satire out of Horace and dramatises it effectively for his purposes. The
sophist Libanius suggests the situation of "The Silent Woman"; a Latin
comedy of Giordano Bruno, "Il Candelaio," the relation of the dupes
and the sharpers in "The Alchemist," the "Mostellaria" of Plautus, its
admirable opening scene. But Jonson commonly bettered his sources, and
putting the stamp of his sovereignty on whatever bullion he borrowed
made it thenceforward to all time current and his own.

The lyric and especially the occasional poetry of Jonson has a peculiar
merit. His theory demanded design and the perfection of literary finish.
He was furthest from the rhapsodist and the careless singer of an
idle day; and he believed that Apollo could only be worthily served in
singing robes and laurel crowned. And yet many of Jonson's lyrics will
live as long as the language. Who does not know "Queen and huntress,
chaste and fair." "Drink to me only with thine eyes," or "Still to be
neat, still to be dressed"? Beautiful in form, deft and graceful in