DRUMMOND wrote of Jonson that in his merry humour he was wont to name himself the Poet. That he constructed stage plays or invented masks was accidental. The heart of his mystery lay in the wider term. Of Jonson, the poet, much has been incidentally quoted, but the examples given of his quality, the best and worst of him, have so far been cited only so far as they revealed his character, witnessed to events in his life or illustrated his dramatic progress. A small anthology of his poetry submitted for its own sake is, therefore, necessary. A presentation of Jonson’s work which neglected A Celebration to Charis, with his epigrams, odes and elegies would clearly be incomplete.