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