BOBADILL.  Well, gentlemen, bear witness, I was bound to the peace, by this good day.

EDWARD KNOWELL.  No, fait, it’s an ill day, Captain, never reckon it other.  But, say you were bound to the peace, the law allows you to defend yourself.  That will prove but a poor excuse.

BOBADILL.  I cannot tell, sir.  I desire good construction in fair sort.  I never sustained the like disgrace, by heaven!  Sure I was struck with a planet thence, for I had no power to touch my weapon.

EDWARD KNOWELL.  Ay, like enough, I have heard of many that have been beaten under a planet.  Go, get you to a surgeon!  ’Slid! and these be your tricks, your passadoes, and your montantos, I’ll none of them.”

    Fraud.

When Every Man in His Humour was acted, Shakespeare took a part in it.  He and Jonson must have met each other often, must have known each other well.  At the Mermaid Tavern all the wits used to gather.  For there was a kind of club founded by Sir Walter Raleigh, and here the clever men of the day met to smoke and talk, and drink not a little.  And among all the clever men Jonson soon came to be acknowledged as the king and leader.  We have a pleasant picture of these friendly meetings by a man who lived then.  “Many were the wit-combats,” he says, “betwixt Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great gallion and an English Man of War:  Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning; solid, but slow in his performances.  Shakespeare, with the English Man of War, lesser in bulk but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention."*

Thomas Fuller, Worthies.

Another writer says in a letter to Ben,

    “What things have we seen,
    Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
    So nimble, and so full of subtile flame
    As if that every one from whence they came
    Had meant to pit his whole wit in a jest."*

    F.  Beaumont, Letter to Ben Jonson.

And so we get a picture of Ben lording it in taverns.  A great good fellow, a stout fellow, he rolls his huge bulk about laying down the law.

So the years went on.  Big Ben wrote and fought, quarreled and made friends, drank and talked, living always on the verge of poverty.  At length, in 1603, the great Queen Elizabeth died, and James of Scotland came to the English throne.  All the way as he journeyed he was greeted with rejoicing.  There were everywhere plays and feasts given in his honor, and soon after he arrived in London a Masque written by Jonson was played before him.  The new king was fond of such entertainments.  He smiled upon Master Ben Jonson, and life became for him easier and brighter.