What needs my Shakespeare for his honor’d bones, The labor of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallow’d relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?
What needs my Shakespeare for his honor’d bones, The labor of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallow’d relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?