By flatterers besieg'd,

And so obliging that he ne'er oblig'd;

Like Cato, give his little senate laws,

And sit attentive to his own applause.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 207.

Soul of the age,

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,

My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by

Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie

A little further, to make thee a room.

Ben Jonson (1573-1637): To the Memory of Shakespeare.

The applause of list'ning senates to command,

The threats of pain and ruin to despise,

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,

And read their history in a nation's eyes.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 16.