stuff leave things so and take the or thine own or s warm thee by s fire and though thy nerves be shrunk and blood be cold ere years have made thee old strike that heat throughout to their defeat as curious fools and envious of thy strain may blushing swear no s in thy but when they hear thee sing the glories of thy king his zeal to god and his just awe o er men they may blood shaken then feel such a flesh to possess their powers as they shall cry like ours the poets in sound of peace or wars no harp e er hit the stars in forth the acts of his sweet reign and raising charles his chariot his song � to from th drink to me only with thine eyes and i will pledge with mine or leave a kiss but in the cup and not look for wine the thirst that from the soul doth rise doth ask a drink divine but might i of jove s sup i would not change for thine i sent thee late a rosy wreath not so much thee as giving it a hope that there it could not withered be but thou only breathe and sent st it back to me since when it grows and smells i swear not of itself but thee to my mere english to thee my way in seems new when both it is the old way and the true thou that cannot be for thou hast seen and and the best have been and mine come nothing like i hope so yet as theirs did with thee mine might credit get from the prose love of the younger about a d author of the of folly monuments if thou but use thy faith as thou then when thou wont f admire not censure men believe still and not judge so � t thy faith is all the knowledge that thou hast on court worm all men are worms but this no man in silk twas brought to court first and white as milk where afterwards it grew a butterfly which was a so die to fool or thy praise or is to me alike one doth not stroke me nor the other strike on op this morning with holy fire i thought to form unto my zealous muse what kind of creature i could most desire to honour serve and love as poets use i meant to make her fair and free and wise of greatest blood and yet more good than great i meant the day star should not brighter rise nor lend like influence from his seat i meant she should be courteous sweet that solemn vice of greatness pride i meant each virtue there should meet fit in that softer bosom to reside only a learned and a manly soul i her that should with even powers the rock the and the control of destiny and spin her own free hours such when i meant to and wished to see my muse bade write and that was she censure � � compare pope s wife of edward third earl of she was also by and daniel the english poets an on a child of queen elizabeth s chapel weep with me all you that read this little story and know for whom a tear you shed death s self is sorry twas a child that so did in grace and feature as heaven and nature seemed to strive which owned the creature years he numbered scarce thirteen when turned cruel yet three filled had he been the stage s jewel and did act what now we moan old men so duly as the thought him one � he played so truly so by error to his fate they all consented but him since alas too late they have repented and have sought to give new birth in to steep him but being so much too good for earth heaven vows to keep him on elizabeth l h thou hear what man can say in a little reader stay underneath this stone doth lie as much beauty as could die which in life did harbour give to more virtue than doth live these children called in the next reign children of her majesty s were trained up to act before the queen had acted in two of s plays in and in when he is supposed to have died ben if at all she had a fault leave it buried in this vault one name was elizabeth the other let it sleep in death where it died to tell than that it lived at all farewell an to himself from where dost careless lie buried in ease and knowledge that sleeps doth die and this security it is the common that eats on wits and arts and that them both are all the springs dried up lies waste doth harp want strings that not a now sings or they as disgraced to see their seats and by chattering if hence thy silence be as tis too just a cause let this thought thee minds that are great and free should not on pause crown enough to virtue still her own applause what though the greedy be taken with of and think it they die with their and only piteous scorn upon their folly � that vol il c the english poets then take in hand thy strike in thy proper strain with s line s chariot for new fire to give the world again who aided him will thee the issue of jove s brain and since our dainty age cannot endure reproof make not a page to that the stage but sing high and aloof safe from the wolf s black jaw and the dull ass s to the of my beloved master william and what he hath left us printed by in hut really from 