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
Lanthorn, Filcher, Sharkwel.
WEll, Luck and Saint Bartholmew; out with the
sign of our Invention, in the name of Wit, and
do you beat the Drum the while; all the Fowl i' the
Fair, I mean all the Dirt in Smithfield, (that's one of Ma-
ster Little-wit's Carwhitchets now) will be thrown at our
Banner to day, if the matter do's not please the Peo-
ple. O the Motions, that I Lanthorn Leatherhead have
Pod was a
Master of Mo-
tions before
him.
given light to, i' my time, since my Ma-
ster Pod died! Jerusalem was a stately
thing; and so was Ninive, and the City
of Norwich, and Sodom and Gomorrah;
with the rising o' the Prentises, and pul-
ling down the Bawdy Houses there upon Shrove-Tues-
day; but the Gunpowder-plot, there was a get-penny! I
have presented that to an eighteen or twenty Pence
Audience, nine times in an Afternoon. Your home-
born Projects prove ever the best, they are so easie and
familiar; they put too much Learning i' their things
now o'days: and that I fear will be the spoil o' this.
Little-wit? I say, Mickle-wit! if not too mickle! look
to your gathering there, Goodman Filcher.
Fil.
I warrant you, Sir.
Lan.
And there come any Gentlefolks, take two
Pence apiece, Sharkwell.
Sha.
I warrant you, Sir, three Pence, an' we can.