Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Ben Jonson
Puppy, Dido, Hugh.
Pup.
Stay, my dear Dido, and good Vicar Hugh,
We have a business with you: In short, this,
If you dare knit another pair of Strangers,
Dido, of Carthage, and her Countrey-man,
Stout Hannibal stands to't. I have ask'd consent,
And she hath granted.
Hug.
But saith Dido so?
Did.
From what Ball-Hanny hath said, I dare not go.
Hug.
Come in then, I'll dispatch you. A good
Supper
Would not be lost, good Company, good Discourse;
But above all, where Wit hath any source.