On Mr. Wm. Shakespeare, he died in April 1616

Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie A little nearer Spenser to make room For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb. To lodge all four in one bed make a shift Until Doomsday, for hardly will a fifth Betwixt this day and that by fate be slain For whom your curtains may be drawn again. If your precedency in death doth bar A fourth place in your sacred sepulchre, Under this carved marble of thine own Sleep rare tragedian Shakespeare, sleep alone, Thy unmolested peace, unshared cave, Possess as lord not tenant of thy grave, That unto us and others it may be Honour hereafter to be laid by thee.