Thomas Heywood: X

TOM, if they loved thee best who called thee Tom.
  What else may all men call thee, seeing thus bright
  Even yet the laughing and the weeping light
That still thy kind old eyes are kindled from?
Small care was thine to assail and overcome
  Time and his child Oblivion: yet of right
  Thy name has part with names of lordlier might
For English love and homely sense of home,
Whose fragrance keeps thy small sweet bayleaf young
  And gives it place aloft among thy peers
  Whence many a wreath once higher strong Time has hurled:
And this thy praise is sweet on Shakespeare’s tongue—
  ‘O good old man, how well in thee appears
  The constant service of the antique world!’