 | Poems, By J. D. [i.e. John Donne] |  |
149
An Epitaph upon Shakespeare.
Renowned Chaucer lie a thought more nighTo rare Beaumond; and learned Beaumond lie
A little nearer Spencer, to make roome
For Shakespeare in your threefold fourefold tombe,
To lie all foure in one bed make a shift,
For, untill doomesday hardly will a fift
Betwixt this day and that be slaine,
For whom your curtaines need be drawne againe;
But, if precedency of death doth barre
A fourth place in your sacred sepulchre,
Under this curled marble of thine owne
Sleepe rare Tragedian Shakespeare, sleepe alone,
That, unto Vs and others it may bee
Honor, hereafter to be laid by thee.
| Poems, By J. D. [i.e. John Donne] | |