And I 'll not look for wine.[179:1]
The Forest. To Celia.
Soul of the age,
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room.[179:2]
To the Memory of Shakespeare.
Marlowe's mighty line.
To the Memory of Shakespeare.