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.