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Ben Jonson, Feltham, And Randolph
by
IV.
And let those things in plush
Till they be taught to blush,
Like what they will, and more contented be
With what Broome[107] swept from thee.
I know thy worth, and that thy lofty strains
Write not to cloaths, 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.
V.
Why shou’d the scene be mute
‘Cause thou canst touch the lute
And string thy Horace! Let each Muse of nine
Claim thee, and say, th’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
Thy palsie were as well thy brain’s disease,
If they could shake thy muse which way they please.
VI.
And tho’ 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 chuse
Only a treble muse;
But have this envious, ignorant age to know,
Thou that canst sing so high, canst reach as low.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 102: This play, Langbaine says, is written by Shakspeare.]
[Footnote 103: He had the palsy at that time.]
[Footnote 104: The names of several of Jonson’s dramatis personae.]
[Footnote 105: New Inn, Act iii. Scene 2.–Act iv. Scene 4.]
[Footnote 106: This break was purposely designed by the poet, to expose that singular one in Ben’s third stanza.]
[Footnote 107: His man, Richard Broome, wrote with success several comedies. He had been the amanuensis or attendant of Jonson. The epigram made against Pope for the assistance W. Broome gave him appears to have been borrowed from this pun. Johnson has inserted it in “Broome’s Life.”]