His mind and hand went together: and what he thought he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our province, who only gather his works, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that read him. And there we hope, to your divers capacities, you will find enough, both to draw, and hold you: for his wit can no more lie hid, than it could be lost. Read him, therefore; and again, and again: and if then you do not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his friends, whom, if you need, can be your guides: if you need them not, you can lead yourselves, and others. And such readers we wish him. Address prefixed to the First Folio Edition of Shakespeare’s _Works_. 1623. LEONARD DIGGES, 1623 (1588-1635) “_To the Memorie of the deceased Author, Maister W. Shakespeare._” Shakespeare, at length thy pious fellows give The world thy Works: thy Works, by which, out-live Thy Tomb, thy name must: when that stone is rent, And Time dissolves thy Stratford Monument, Here we alive shall view thee still. This Book, When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look Fresh to all ages: when posterity Shall loath what’s new, thinke all is prodigy That is not Shakespeare’s; ev’ry line, each verse, Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy hearse. Nor fire, nor cankering age, as Naso said, Of his, thy wit-fraught Book, shall once invade. Nor shall I e’er believe, or think thee dead (Though missed), until our bankrout Stage be sped (Impossible) with some new strain t’ out-do Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo; Or till I hear 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 expressed, Be sure, our Shakespeare, thou canst never die, But crown’d with laurel, live eternally. Prefixed to the First Folio Edition of Shakespeare’s _Works_. 1623. MICHAEL DRAYTON, 1627 (1563-1631) “_To my most dearly-loved friend Henery Reynolds, Esquire, of Poets and Poesie._” Shakespeare, thou hadst as smooth a comic vein, Fitting the sock, and in thy natural brain, As strong conception, and as clear a rage As any one that trafick’d with the stage. Elegies at the end of _The Battaile of Agincourt_. 1627, p. 206. JOHN MILTON, 1630 (1608-1674) “_An Epitaph on the Admirable Dramatic Poet, W. Shakespeare._”