We learn from them that he was vain
and boastful, a loud talker and a deep drinker. Yet there is
something about this big blustering Ben that we cannot help but
like.
In January sometime, Jonson set his face homeward, and reached
London in April or May, having taken nearly a year to pay his
visit. He must have been pleased with his journey, for on his
return he wrote a poem about Scotland. Nothing of it has come
down to us, however, except one line in which he calls Edinburgh
"The heart of Scotland, Britain's other eye."
The years passed for Jonson, if not in wealth, at least in such
comfort as his way of life allowed. For we cannot ever think of
him as happy in his own home by his own fireside. He is rather a
king in Clubland spending his all freely and taking no thought
for the morrow. But in 1625 King James died, and although the
new King Charles still continued the poet's pension, his tastes
were different from those of his father, and Jonson found himself
and his Masques neglected.
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