To my Friend Will. Davenant, upon his other Poems

John Suckling (1609–1642)

Thou hast redeem'd us, Will; and future timesShall not account unto the age's crimesDearth of pure wit. Since the great lord of it,Donne parted hence, no man has ever writSo near him in 's own way: I would commend5Particulars; but then, how should I endWithout a volume? Ev'ry line of thineWould ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine.