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 | The Maids Tragedy |  |
Fletcher, arise, Usurpers share thy Bays,
They Canton thy vast Wit to build small Plays:
He comes! his Volume breaks through Clouds and Dust,
Down, little Wits, Ye must refund, Ye must.
They Canton thy vast Wit to build small Plays:
He comes! his Volume breaks through Clouds and Dust,
Down, little Wits, Ye must refund, Ye must.
Nor comes he private, here's Great BEAUMONT too,
How could one single World encompass Two?
For these Co-heirs had equal power to teach
All that all Wits both can and cannot reach.
Shakespear was early up, and went so drest
As for those dawning hours he knew was best;
But when the Sun shone forth, You Two thought fit
To wear just Robes, and leave off Trunk hose-Wit.
Now, now 'twas perfect, none must look for New,
Manners and Scenes may alter, but not You:
For Yours are not meer humours, gilded Strains:
The fashion lost, Your massy Sence remains.
How could one single World encompass Two?
For these Co-heirs had equal power to teach
All that all Wits both can and cannot reach.
Shakespear was early up, and went so drest
As for those dawning hours he knew was best;
But when the Sun shone forth, You Two thought fit
To wear just Robes, and leave off Trunk hose-Wit.
Now, now 'twas perfect, none must look for New,
Manners and Scenes may alter, but not You:
For Yours are not meer humours, gilded Strains:
The fashion lost, Your massy Sence remains.
Some think Your Wits of two Complexions fram'd
That One the Sock, th'Other the Buskin claim'd;
That should the Stage embattail all its Force,
FLETCHER would lead the Foot, BEAUMONT the Horse.
But you were Both for Both; not Semi-wits,
Each Piece is wholly Two, yet never splits;
Y'are not two Faculties, (and one Soul still)
He th'Understanding, Thou the quick free Will;
But, as two Voyces in one Song embrace,
(FLETCHER's keen Trebble, and deep BEAUMONT's Base)
Two, full, Congenial Souls; still Both prevail'd;
His Muse and Thine were Quarter'd, not Impal'd;
Both brought Your Ingots, Both toil'd at the Mint,
Beat, melted, sifted, till no dross stuck in't,
Then in each Others Scales weigh'd every Grain,
Then smooth and burnish'd, then weigh'd all again,
Stampe both your Names upon't at one bold Hit,
Then, then 'twas Coin, as well as Bullion-Wit.
That One the Sock, th'Other the Buskin claim'd;
That should the Stage embattail all its Force,
FLETCHER would lead the Foot, BEAUMONT the Horse.
But you were Both for Both; not Semi-wits,
Each Piece is wholly Two, yet never splits;
Y'are not two Faculties, (and one Soul still)
He th'Understanding, Thou the quick free Will;
But, as two Voyces in one Song embrace,
(FLETCHER's keen Trebble, and deep BEAUMONT's Base)
Two, full, Congenial Souls; still Both prevail'd;
His Muse and Thine were Quarter'd, not Impal'd;
Both brought Your Ingots, Both toil'd at the Mint,
Beat, melted, sifted, till no dross stuck in't,
Then in each Others Scales weigh'd every Grain,
Then smooth and burnish'd, then weigh'd all again,
Stampe both your Names upon't at one bold Hit,
Then, then 'twas Coin, as well as Bullion-Wit.
| The Maids Tragedy | |