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

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much. 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For silliest ignorance on these may light, Which when it sounds at best but echoes right; Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urges all by chance; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin where it seemed to raise.…