John Milton
On Shakespeare
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John Milton (1608-1674)
On Shakespeare
What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need’st thou such weak witnesa of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a livelong Monument.
For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavoring art,
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the Leaves of thy unvalued Book,
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceiving;
And so Sepulchered in such pomp dost lie,
That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.
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