|Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring |
You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes :
His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes,
Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring.
Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring,
Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes :
That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes,
Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King.
If Tragedies might any Prologue have,
All those he made, would scarse make a one to this :
Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave
(Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is,
For though his line of life went soone about,
The life yet of his lines shall never out.
|H U G H H O L L A N D.|
Somebody tell me about this. I'm interested lately in the dedications of the First Folio. Other than Ben Jonson's portion, I really had no idea there were so many. This is actually really good stuff here that I've picked, and I'm quite surprised that I don't hear more about it. "which crowned him poet first, then poets' king?" That's good stuff!