This figure, that thou here seest put, It was for gentle Shakspeare cut, Wherein the graver had a strife With nature, to out-doo the life: O, could he have but drawn his wit.
As well in braſse, as he hath hit His face; the print would then surpaſse All that was ever writ in braſse But since he cannot, reader looke Not on his picture, but his booke.