ABSTRACT
And now I must with that poor strength I have, Resist so foul a foe in what I may; And arm against oblivion and the grave, That else in darkness carries all away, And makes of all our honours but a prey. So that if by my pen procure I shall But to defend me and my name to save, Then though I die, I cannot yet die all;
But still the better part of me will live, Decked and adorned with thy scared name, Although thyself dost far more glory give Unto thyself, than I can by the same. Who dost with thine own hand a bulwark frame Against these Monsters (enemies of honour), Which evermore shall so defend thy Fame, That Time nor they, shall never prey upon her.
