"to convert the substance or riches of another poet to his 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, sti