FLETCHER _arise, Usurpers share thy Bayes,
They_ Canton _thy vast Wit to build small_ Playes:
_He comes! his_ Volume _breaks through clowds and dust,
Downe, little Witts, Ye must refund, Ye must._
_Nor comes he private, here's great_ BEAUMONT _too,
How could one single World encompasse Two?
For these Co-heirs had equall power to teach
All that all Witts both can and cannot reach._
Shakespear _was early up, and went so drest
As for those_ dawning _houres he knew was best;
But when the Sun shone forth,_ You Two _thought fit
To weare just Robes, and leave off Trunk-hose-Wit.
Now, now 'twas Perfect; None must looke for New,
Manners and Scenes may alter, but not_ You;
_For Yours are not meere_ Humours, _gilded straines;
The Fashion lost, Your massy_ Sense _remaines.
Some thinke Your Witts of two Complexions fram'd,
That One the_ Sock, _th'Other the_ Buskin _claim'd;
That should the Stage_ embattaile _all it's Force,_
FLETCHER _would lead the Foot,_ BEAUMONT _the Horse.
But, you were Both for Both; not Semi-witts,
Each Piece is wholly Two, yet never splits:
Y'are not Two_ Faculties (_and one_ Soule _still)
But th'_ Understanding, _Thou the quick free_ Will;
_But, as two_ Voyces _in one Song embrace,_
(FLETCHER'S _keen_ Trebble, _and deep_ BEAUMONTS Base)
_Two, full, Congeniall Soules; still Both prevail'd;
His Muse and Thine were_ Quarter'd _not_ Impal'd:
_Both brought Your Ingots, Both toil'd at the Mint,
Beat, melted, sifted, till no drosse stuck in't,
Then in each Others scales weighed every graine,
Then smooth'd and burnish'd, then weigh'd all againe,
Stampt Both your Names upon't by one bold Hit,
Then, then'twas Coyne, as well as Bullion-Wit.
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