Hake-speare, at length thy pious sellowes giue The world thy Workes: thy Workes, by which, out liue Thy Tombe, thy name must, when that stone is rent, And Time dissolues thy Stratford Moniment, Here we aliue shall view thee still. This Booke, When Brasse and Marble fade, shall all make thee looke Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie That is not Shake-speares; eu'ry Line,each Verse Here shall reuiue, redeeme thee from thy Herse. Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said, Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once inuade. Nor shall I e're beleeue, or thinke thee dead (Though mist) vntill our bankrout Stage be sped (Impossible) with some new straine t'out-do Passions of Iuliet, and her Romeo; Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take. Then when thy half Sword parlying Romans spake. Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest, Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst neuer dye, But crown'd with Lawrell, liue eternally. L. Digges.