His health began to fail too, and his
library, which he dearly loved, was burned, together with many of
his unpublished manuscripts, and so he fell on evil days.
Forgotten at court, Jonson began once more to write for the
stage. But now that he had to write for bread, it almost seemed
as if his pen had lost its charm. The plays he wrote added
nothing to his fame. They were badly received. And so at last,
in trouble for to-morrow's bread, without wife or child to
comfort him, he died on 8th August, 1637.
He was buried in Westminster, and it was intended to raise a fine
tomb over his grave. But times were growing troublous, and the
monument was still lacking, when a lover of the poet, Sir John
Young of Great Milton, in Oxfordshire, came to do honor to his
tomb. Finding it unmarked, he paid a workman 1s. 6d. to carve
above the poet's resting-place the words, "O rare Ben Jonson."
And perhaps these simple words have done more to keep alive the
memory of the poet than any splendid monument could have done.
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