The Poetaster by Ben Jonson
page 50 of 324 (15%)
page 50 of 324 (15%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
As gold, or titles; they would dread far more
To be thought ignorant, than be known poor. The time was once, when wit drown'd wealth; but now, Your only barbarism is t'have wit, and want. No matter now in virtue who excels, He that hath coin, hath all perfection else. Tib. [within.] Ovid! Ovid. Who's there? Come in. Enter Tibullus. Tib. Good morrow, lawyer. Ovid. Good morrow, dear Tibullus; welcome: sit down. Tib. Not I. What, so hard at it? Let's see, what's here? Numa in decimo nono. I Nay, I will see it Ovid. Prithee away Tib. If thrice in field a man vanquish his foe, 'Tis after in his choice to serve or no. How, now, Ovid! Law cases in verse? Ovid. In truth, I know not; they run from my pen unwittingly if they be verse. What's the news abroad ? Tib. Off with this. gown; I come to have thee walk. |
|