You deserve Wonder, and they pay but Praise;
A Praise which is as short of your great due.
As all which yet have writ come short of you.
Again,
In Pictures none hereafter will delight,
You draw more to the Life in black and white;
The Pencil to your Pen must yield the Place,
This draws the Soul, where that draws but the Face.
But having thank’d these noble Lords for their Suffrage, we will proceed to some other Witnesses of Quality: And first I beg leave to appeal to my Lord Duke of Buckinghamshire, his Translation of The Temple of Death;
Her Chains were Marks of Honour to the Brave,