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life fets me at 100 great a distance to take even the outlines of your perfections.), Į would not therefore, where I cannot prom sume to do justice, be thought to descend to the unbecdming art of Aattery. II must launch out, indeed, a great way, to make myselfo liable to that imputation, with regards to your Royal Highness; but Dedications are generally suspected of overftraining. ・11:30

How far so ever, MADAM, my vanity or iny ambition might mislead me into that tract, I'll oblige myself to govern both my duty; and turn all attempts of praise and compliment into veneration and pious withes. That You may long con, tinue to bless the eyes and arms of the Prince, your Illuftrious Confort; and that you may contintie to bless the nation with a numerous succession of Princes, to the future glory and security of our establishment, is my ardent prayer; and D90 A 4

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in that I will center; the only merit by: which I would pretend to profess myself,

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+ An EPITAPH on the admirable

Dramatic Poet, W. SHAKESPEARE. WH

HAT neede my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones.

The labour of an age, in piled ftones ?
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a starr-y-pointing pyramid ?
Deare fonde of memory, great heire of Fame,
What needst thou fuch doll witnesse of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Haft built thy felfe a live-long munument:
For whilft to th” shame of flow.endevouring art.
Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hach from the leaves of thy unvalued booke,
Those Delphicke lines, such deep impreffion tooke :
Then thou, our fancy of her selfe bereaving,
Doft make us marble with too much conceiving :.
And, so sepulcher'd, in such pompe doft lie,
That kings for such a tombe would wish to die.

J. MILTOM. + This Epitaph was written in 1630, wben Milton was in bis two. and twentieth year; for he was born in 1608.

In Remembrance of Master WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

B

O DE.
Eware (delighted Poets !). when you fing
To welcome nature in the early spring,

Your num'rous feet not tread
The banks of Avon ; for each flower
(As. io ne'er knew. a sun; or hower,).
Hangs, there, the pensive head.

II.
Each tree; whofe thick and spreading growth hath made
Racher. a night beneath the boughs, chan fhade,

A: 5

(Unwilling

(Unwiling now to grow,).. pre Looks like the plume a captain wears, 1933*** 91.1 Whose sified falls are steept i'th? tears un tikus.g. Which from his laft

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ftowaniu

III.lin pituidditaui!!.. The pitegas river, wept itself away as ane personi ori Long since (alas !) to fuch a swift decay." to

That reach the map and look a'rinis... If you a river there can spynt i mol 2€ 376 slus Aud, for a river, your mock'd eyes's w $814 bluoda Will find a hallow brooke.oslj"£ Dostu 09.

110) bados W. DAVENANT,

g: 0 }, li - 13.3 I y 3 +973 4 CAN BENNOTANICine

dont son361 lliw I TILT sono YM On the Effigies of SHAKESPEARE, prefix'd to his printed Works, 198 1"

bi gviloys bra THIS Fgure, that thou here seest put, but

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14. jei IT With nature, to out-doo the life: 0, could he but have drawn his wit gjinog bicorts

nuoril hové As well in brass, as he hath hit

. wait !iy boA Itis face ; the print would then furpalie All, that was ever writ in braffe.

900*ug But, fince he cannot, reader, look

ictis ngeci DV. Not on his pi&ture, but his book... of susu mig

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To the Menzory of my Beloved, the Author,

Mr. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE;

strol Yoil, what

mo? And what he has left us, 1107 ? Hood it!)

su siqaruri? ΤΑ

O draw no.envy (Shakespeare) on thy name.

Am I'thus ample to thy book, and fame:W SH While I confess thy writings to be fuch, si llebres - As neither man, nor muse, can praise too much.

'Tis true, and all mens suffrage. But there waye
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise?!
For seeliest ignorance on thefe may lighe,
Which, when it founds ar belt, but echoes right;
Or blind affection, whichidóth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropesy and urgerh all by chances
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think coruin where it feem'd to raise.
These are, as some infamous bawd, or whores idi
Should praise a marond What could hort her more
But thou art proof against them, and; indeed,
Above th'rill fortune of them, or the need.
I therefore will begin.-Soul of the age!
Th applaufe delghe t she wonder of oor

fiage
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucery or Spepfer, or bid Beaumont liel961 ;
A little further, to make thee a room :
Thou art a monument without a tembi
And art alive ftill, while thy book doth live,

.
That I nor mix thee fo, my 'brain excuses;
I mean with great, but disproportion'd mufes
For if I thought my judginent were of years,
I should commit thee, Turely, with thy peers :
And tell how far thou didft oúr Lilly, out-line;

eis:
Or sporting Kid, or Marlow's mighty line.
And though thou hadtt small Latin and less Greeks
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thund'ring -£febylus,

and urutal Accitl him oss

Cordova dead, To live again, to hear thy Bufkin tread, "Andi hiake la Mage? Or, when thy Tocks were on, Leave thee alone for the comparison Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome . Sent forth, or fince did from their ahes come. Triumph, my Britain! thou haft: one to show, To whom all fienes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the mukes till were in their primer about

whilea:

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