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(As it ne'er knew a Sun, or Shower,)
Hangs, ibere, the penfive Head.

Each Tree, wbose thick and spreading Growth bath

Rather a Night beneath the Boughs, than Shade,

(Unwilling now to grow,)
Looks like the Plume a Captain weares,
Wbose rifled Falls are freept i’th Teares
Which from bis laft Rage flow.

The piteous River wept it self away,
Long since (alas !) to such a swift decay,

That reach the Map, and look
If you a River there can spie:
And, for a River, your mock'd Eye
Will find a pallow Brooke.


On the Effigies of SHAKESPEARE,

prefix'd to his printed Works.
HIS Figure, that thou here feeft put,

It was for gentle Shakespeare cuts
Wherein the Graver had a Strife
With Nature, to out-doo the Life:
O, could be but bave drawne bis Wit
As well in Brase, as be batb bit.
His Face; the Print would then furpaffe
All, that was ever writ in Brasse.
But, fince be cannot, Reader, looks
Not on bis Pi&ure, but his Booke.



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. The Truth, but gropese Tb' a no To the Memory of my Beloved, the Author, Mr. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE;) .H

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no Envy (Shakespeare "Am , thus ample to thy Book, and Fame? While I confess thy Writings to be Such, As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too Tis true and all mens fuffrage. But these wases Were not the paths"I meant unto thy Praise: For feelieft Ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echous right; Or blind, Affection, which doth ne'er advance 10.3 Or crafty Malies might pretend this Praise, And think to ruine, where it seem'd to raise. There going some infamous Baud, or Whore, Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more ?

But thou art proof againft them, and, i have the ill Fortune of them, or the Need. I therefore will begin.

Sout of the Age! no

My Shake{peare, rifet. I will not lodge, thee bay
Chaucera e Spenfer, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room

Si asgiga
Thou art a Monument without a

without a Tomb.
And art aliug till, while thy Book doth live,
And we have Wits to reada and Praise to give.
That I noggrains thee fon my brai

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For if I thought my Judgment were of Yearse,
I should commit thee, surely, with thy Peers :
And tell how far thou didst our Lilly out-line,
Or sporting Kid, or Marlow's mighty Line.
And though thou bads {mall Latin and less Greek,
From thence to honour thee, I would not seek
For Names; but call forth thund'ring Æschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead,
To live again, to hear thy Buskin tread,
And make a Stage : Or, when thy Socks were on,
Leave thee alone for the Comparison
Of all, that infolent Greece, or haughty Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their Ashes come.
Triumph, my Britain! thou hast one to how,
To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an Age, but for all time!
And all the Muses still were in their prime,
When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
Our Ears, or like a Mercury to charm.
Nature ber self was proud of his designes,
And joy'd to wear the dressing of bis Lines :
Which were so richly Spun, and wove so fit,
As, fence, fe will vouchsafe no other Wit.
The inerry, Greek, tart Aristophanes,
Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please ;
But antiquated, and deserted lie,
As they were not of Nature's family.
Yet muft I not give Nature all : Thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.
For though the Poet's matter Nature be,
His Ars doth give the Fashion : And, that be,


Who casts to write a living Line, muft sweat, (Such as thine are) and frike the second Heat Upon the Muses Anvile; turn the same, (And himself with it) that he thinks to frame, Or for the Laurel he may gain a Scorn ; For a good Poet's made, as well as born. And such wert thou. Look how the Father's Face Lives in his Ifue, even fo the Race Of Shakespeare's Mind and Manners brightly shines In bis well-torned, and true-filed Lines : In each of which be seems to shake a Lance, As brandisl’d at the Eyes of Ignorance. Sweet Swan of Avon! what a hight it were To see thee in our water yet appear, And make those flights upon the Banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza and our James ! But ftay, I see thee in the Hemisphere Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there! Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets! and with Rage, Or Influence, chide, or chear, the drooping Stage: Which, fince thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like

night, And despairs day, but for thy Volume's light.

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The Names of the SŲ BS CRIB E R S.




His Grace the Duke of Argyle and Greenwich,

Royal Paper.
Right Honourable the Marchioness of Annandale.
Philip Aynscombe, Esq;
William Archer, Esq;
William Arnold, Esq;
Edward Ash, Esq;
John Auften, Esq;
Robert Andrews, Esq;
Reverend Mr. George Adams.

His Grace the Duke of Bedford, Royal Paper.
Her Grace the Dutchess of Bedford, Royal Paper
Her Grace the Dutchess of Buckinghamshire,

Royal Paper
Right Honourable Earl of Buchan.
Honourable Colonel Berkley.
Mr. Alderman Barber.
Thomas Bladen, Esq; Royal Paper.
Hawly Bishop, Ej9; Royal Paper.
Samuel Burroughs, Esq;
John Baber, Esq;
William Bedingfield, Esq;
Anthony Brucer, Esq;
Ballard Beckford, Esq;
Richard Backwell, Esq; Royal Paper.


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