To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us Poem Rhyme Scheme

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To draw no envy Shakespeare on thy name	A
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame	A
While I confess thy writings to be such	B
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much	B
'Tis true and all men's suffrage But these ways	C
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise	C
For silliest ignorance on these may light	D
Which when it sounds at best but echoes right	D
Or blind affection which doth ne'er advance	E
The truth but gropes and urges all by chance	E
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise	C
And think to ruin where it seemed to raise	C
These are as some infamous bawd or whore	F
Should praise a matron What could hurt her more	F
But thou art proof against them and indeed	G
Above th' ill fortune of them or the need	G
I therefore will begin Soul of the Age	H
The applause delight the wonder of our stage	H
My Shakespeare rise I will not lodge thee by	I
Chaucer or Spenser or bid Beaumont lie	I
A little further to make thee a room	J
Thou art a monument without a tomb	J
And art alive still while thy book doth live	K
And we have wits to read and praise to give	L
That I not mix thee so my brain excuses	M
I mean with great but disproportioned Muses	N
For if I thought my judgement were of years	O
I should commit thee surely with thy peers	O
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine	P
Or sporting Kyd or Marlowe's mighty line	P
And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek	Q
From thence to honour thee I would not seek	Q
For names but call forth thundering Aeschylus	O
Euripides and Sophocles to us	O
Pacuvius Accius him of Cordova dead	R
To live again to hear thy buskin tread	R
And shake a stage or when thy socks were on	S
Leave thee alone for the comparison	T
Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome	U
Sent forth or since did from their ashes come	V
Triumph my Britain thou hast one to show	W
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe	W
He was not of an age but for all time	X
And all the Muses still were in their prime	X
When like Apollo he came forth to warm	Y
Our ears or like a Mercury to charm	Z
Nature herself was proud of his designs	O
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines	O
Which were so richly spun and woven so fit	A2
As since she will vouchsafe no other wit	A2
The merry Greek tart Aristophanes	O
Neat Terence witty Plautus now not please	O
But antiquated and deserted lie	I
As they were not of Nature's family	B2
Yet must I not give Nature all thy art	C2
My gentle Shakespeare must enjoy a part	C2
For though the poet's matter nature be	B2
His art doth give the fashion and that he	B2
Who casts to write a living line must sweat	D2
Such as thine are and strike the second heat	E2
Upon the Muses' anvil turn the same	A
And himself with it that he thinks to frame	A
Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn	F2
For a good poet's made as well as born	F2
And such wert thou Look how the father's face	O
Lives in his issue even so the race	O
Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines	O
In his well turned and true filed lines	O
In each of which he seems to shake a lance	O
As brandished at the eyes of ignorance	O
Sweet swan of Avon what a sight it were	G2
To see thee in our waters yet appear	H2
And make those flights upon the banks of Thames	O
That did so take Eliza and our James	O
But stay I see thee in the hemisphere	H2
Advanced and made a constellation there	I2
Shine forth thou Star of Poets and with rage	H
Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage	H
Which since thy flight from hence hath mourned like night	D
And despairs day but for thy volume's light	D

Ben Jonson

To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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