Shakespeare! "with all thy faults (and few have more)I love thee still," and still will con thee o'er.Heaven, in compassion to man's erring heart,Gave thee of virtue, then of vice a part,Lest we, in wonder here, should bow before thee,Break God's commandment, worship, and adore thee:But admiration now, and sorrow join;His works we reverence, while we pity thine.
