Chapman and Marston had been flung there first For some imagined insult to the Scots In _Eastward Ho_, the play they wrote with Ben. But Ben was famous now, and our brave law Would fain have winked and passed the big man by. The lesser men had straightway been condemned To have their ears cut off, their noses slit. With other tortures.
Ben had risen at that! He gripped his cudgel, called for a quart of ale, Then like Helvellyn with his rocky face And mountain-belly, he surged along Cheapside, Snorting with wrath, and rolled into the gaol, To share the punishment.
"There is my mark! 'Tis not the first time you have branded me," Said our big Ben, and thrust his broad left thumb Branded with T for Tyburn, into the face Of every protest. "That's the mark you gave me Because I killed my man in Spitalfields, A duel honest as any your courtiers fight. But I was no Fitzdotterel, bore no gules And azure, robbed no silk-worms for my hose, I was Ben Jonson, out of Annandale, Bricklayer in common to the good Lord God. You branded me. I am Ben Jonson still. You cannot rub it out."
The Mermaid Inn Buzzed like a hornet's nest, upon the day Fixed for their mutilation. And the stings Were ready, too; for rapiers flashed and clashed Among the tankards. Dekker was there, and Nash, Brome (Jonson's body-servant, whom he taught His art of verse and, more than that, to love him,) And half a dozen more. They planned to meet The prisoners going to Tyburn, and attempt A desperate rescue.
All at once we heard A great gay song come marching down the street, A single voice, and twenty marching men, Then the full chorus, twenty voices strong:--
The prentice whistles at break of day All under fair roofs and towers, When the old Cheape openeth every way Her little sweet inns like flowers; And he sings like a lark, both early and late, To think, if his house take fire, At the good _Green Dragon_ in Bishopsgate He may drink to his heart's desire.
_Chorus:_ Or sit at his ease in the old _Cross Keys_ And drink to his heart's desire.
But I, as I walk by _Red Rose Lane_, Tho' it warmeth my heart to see _The Swan_, _The Golden Hynde_, and _The Crane_, With the door set wide for me; Tho' Signs like daffodils paint the strand When the thirsty bees begin, Of all the good taverns in Engeland My choice is--_The Mermaid Inn_.