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Henry King - AN ELEGY Upon S. W. R.
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I will not weep, for `twere as great a sin 
To shed a tear for thee, as to have bin 
An Actor in thy death. Thy life and age 
Was but a various Scene on fortunes Stage, 
With whom thou tugg`st & strov`st ev`n out of breath 
In thy long toil: nere master`d till thy death; 
And then despight of trains and cruell wit, 
Thou did`st at once subdue malice and it. 
I dare not then so blast thy memory 
As say I do lament or pity thee. 
Were I to choose a subject to bestow 
My pity on, he should be one as low 
In spirit as desert. That durst not dy 
But rather were content by slavery 
To purchase life: or I would pity those 
Thy most industrious and friendly foes: 
Who when they thought to make thee scandals story 
Lent thee a swifter flight to Heav`n and glory. 
That thought by cutting off some wither`d dayes, 
(Which thou could`st spare them) to eclipse thy praise; 
Yet gave it brighter foil, made thy ag`d fame 
Appear more white and fair, then foul their shame: 
And did promote an Execution 
Which (but for them) Nature and Age had done. 
Such worthless things as these were onely born 
To live on Pities almes (too mean for scorn.) 
Thou dy`dst an envious wonder, whose high fate 
The world must still admire, scarce imitate.
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