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.