ABSTRACT
Thou hast redeem'd us, Will, and future times Shall not account unto the age's crimes Dearth of pure wit. Since the great lord of it, Donne, parted ,hence, no man has ever writ So near him, in's own way: I would commend Particulars; but then, how should I end Without a volume? Ev'ry line of thine Would ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine.
