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
No State-affairs, nor any politick Club,
Pretend we in our Tale, here, of a Tub:
But acts of Clowns and Constables, to day
Stuff out the Scenes of our ridiculous Play.
A Coopers wit, or some such busie Spark,
Illumining the high Constable, and his Clerk.
And all the Neighbour-hood, from old Records,
Of antick Proverbs, drawn from Whitson-Lords.
And their Authorities, at Wakes and Ales,
With Country precedents, and old Wives Tales;
We bring you now, to shew what different things
The Cotes of Clowns, are from the Courts of Kings.