Kit Fowleâ— Was held an honest man though no good Bowler 44. On Dorothy Rich. Here resteth young Doll Rich that dainty drab Who troubled long with itch dy'd of the scab 45. On Ralph Ralph bids adue to pleasures good or ill But tels you true 't is much against his will 46. On Walter Moone Here lies Wat Moone that great Tobacconist Who dy'd too soon for lack of had I wist 47. On Iohn Cooling a Player-foole Death hath too soon remov'd from us Io. Cooling That was so well belov'd and liv'd by fooling 48. On a Welshman Who living least espy'd his life should leese By meer Metheglin dy'd and tosted Cheese 49. On Io. Long. Here sleep I. Long who liv'd till New-yearâ—-tide Full fourscore strong but then fell sick and dy'd 50. On Stephen Spooner Death hath time borrow'd of our neighbour Spooner Whose wife much sorrow'd that he di'd no sooner 51. On a Lawyer God works wonders now and than Here lyes a Lawyer dy'd an honest man 52. On a Waterman Here sleepâ— Will Slater why by deathâ— command Hath left the water to possesse the land 53. On Sir Francis Drake England his heart his Corps the waters have And that which raisd his fame became his grave 54. On a Gallant Who cloth of Tissue wore here flat doth lye Having no issue more than that in 's thigh 55. On Iohn Garret Gone is Iohn Garret who to all mens thinking For love to Claret kill'd himself with drinking 56. On notable Ned. Cause of the good nought must be said but good 'T is well for Ned that nought he understood 57. On a Taylour who dyed of the stitch Here lies a Taylour in this ditch Who liv'd and dyed by the stitch 58. On a travelling Beggar Here lies a Vagrant person whom our laws Of late grown strict denied passage 'cause He wandring thus therefore return he must From whence at first he hither came to dust 59. On a Mason So long the Mason wrought on others wals That his own house of clay to ruine fals No wonder spitefull death wrought his annoy He us'd to build and death seeks to destroy 60. On a Schoolmaster The Grammar School a long time taught I have Yet all my skill could not Decline the grave But yet I hope it one day will be shown In no Case save the Ablative alone 61. On Prince Henry I have no vein in Verse but if I could Distill on every word a Pearl I would Our sorrows pearls drop not from pens but eyes Whilst other Muses write mine onely cryes 62. On the death of Mr. Newcomin of Clare-hall in Cambridge Weep ye Clarenses weep all about For New-com-in is new gone out Weep not Clarenses weep not aâ— all He 's gone but from Clare to Trinity-Hal 63. On Hobson the Carrier Hobson what 's out of sight is out of mind Is gone and left his Letters here behind He that with so much paper us'd to meet Is now alas content to take one sheet 64. Another He that such carriage store was wont to have Is carried now himselfe unto his grave O strange he that in life ne'r made but one Six Carriers makes now he is dead and gone 65. Another Here Hobson lyes prest with a heavy load Who now is gone the old and common road The waggon he so lov'd so lov'd to ride That he was drawing on whilst that he dy'd 66. Another Hobson's not dead but Charls the Northern Swain Hath sent for him to draw his lightsome wain 67. On a Footman This nimble Footman ran away from death And here he rested being out of breath Here death him over-took made him his slave And sent him on an arrand to the grave 68. Iustus Lipsius Some have high mountains of Parian stone And some in brasse carve their inscription Some have their Tombs of costly marbles rear'd But in our tears onely are they interr'd 69. On a Child Like Birds of prey Death snatche away This harmlesse Dove Whose soule so pure Is now secure In heaven above 70. On a rich Gentleman Of woods and plains and hills and vales Of fields of meads of parks and pales Of all I had this I possesse I need no more I have no lesse 71. On a Child That flesh is grasse Its grace a flower Read ere you passe Whom worms devoure 72. On a Lock-smith A zealous Lock-smith dy'd of late Who by this time 's at heaven gate The reason why he will not knock Is 'cause he means to pick the lock 73. On a Collier Here lies the Collier Ienkin Dashes By whom death nothing gain'd he swore For living he was dust and ashes And being dead he is no more 74. On Dick Pinner Here lyes Dick Pinner O ungentle death Why didst thou rob Dick Pinner of his breath For living he by scraping of a pin Made better dust than thou hast made of him 75. On a Sack-sucker Good Reader blesse thee be assur'd The spirit of Sack lyes here immur'd Who havock't all he could come by For Sack and here quite sack'd doth ly 76. On a Child Into this world as stranger to an Inne This Child came Guest-wise where when it had bin A while and found nought worthy of his stay He onely broke his fast and went away 77. On a Candle Here lyes the Chandlers chiefest joy Here lyes the Schollers pale-fac'd boy Having nought else but skin and bone Dy'd of a deep Consumption 78. On T. H. the Pannier-man of the Temple Here lyes Tom Hacket this Marble under Who often made the Cloysters thunder He had a horn and when he blew iâ— Call'd many a Cuckold that never knew it 79. On a young Infant The life of Man Is but a span The common saying is But death did pinch His to an inch Ere he could say what 's this Yet he hath gain'd not lost thereby Changing time for eternity 80. On Mr. Calfes death Heaven of his soul take charge for he Of all his dayes liv'd but the halfe Who might have grown to be an Oxe But dyed as you see a Calfe 81. On Bolus If gentlenesse could tame the Fates or wit Delude them Bolus had not dyed yet But one that death o'r-rules in judgement sits And sayes our sins are stronger then our wits 82. On a Clowne Softly tread this earth upon For here lyes our Corydon Who through care to save his sheep Watch'd too much Oh let him sleep 83. On a Child As carefull Nurses on their beds doe lay Their babes which would too long the wantons play So to prevent my youths ensuing crimes Nature my Nurse laid me to bed betimeâ— 85. On a Musitian Be not offended at our sad complaint You Quire of Angels that have gain'd a Saint Where all perfection met in skill and voyce We mourne our losse but yet commend your choyce 85. On a Gardener Could he forget his death that every houre Was emblem'd to it by the fading flowre Should he not mind his end yes sure he must That
is not strange She was a woman therefore pleasd to change And now shee s dead some woman doth remain For still she hopes once to be chang'd again 117. On Brawne Here Brawne the quondam begger lyes Who counted by his tale Full sixscore winters in his life Such vertue is in Ale Ale was his meat Ale was his drink Ale did him long reprive And could he still have drunk his Ale He had been still alive 118. On a Candle Here lyes I wot a little star That did belong to Iupiter Which from him Prometheus stole And with it a fire-coale Or this is that I mean to handle Here doth lye a farthing Candle That was lov'd well having its light But loosing that now bids good night 119. On M. R. Who soonest dies lives long enough Our life is but a blast or puffe I did resist and strive with death But soon he put me out of breath He of my life thought to bereave me But I did yield onely to breath me O'r him I shall in triumph sing Thy conquest Grave where is thy sting 120. On a Child Here she lies a prtty bud Lately made of flesh and blood Who as soon fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep Give her strewings but not stir The earth that lightly covers her 121. On an Inne-keeper It is not I that dye I do but leave an Inn Where harboun'd was with me all filthy kind of sin It is not I that dye I doe but now begin Into etenall â—oy by faith to enter in Why weep you then my friends my parents and my kin Lament ye when I loose but weep not when I win 122. On a Cobler Come hither read my gentle friend And here behold a Coblers end Longer in length his life had gone But that he had no Last so long O mighty Death whose dart can kill The man that made him souls at wilâ— 123. On M. Aire Under this stone of Marble faire Lies th'body ' ntomb'd of Gervase Aire He dy'd not of an â—gue-fit Nor surfeited of too much wit Me thinks this was a wondrous death That Aire should dye for want of breath 124. On Mr. Rice M. Who can doubt Rice to what eternall place Thy soul is fled that did but know thy face Whose body was so light it might have gone To heaven without a resurrection Indeed thou wert all type thy limbs were signes Thy Arteries but Mathematick lines As if two soules had made the compound good Which both should live by faith none by blood 125. On Thomas Iones Here for the nonce Came Thomas Ionce In St. Iileses Church to lye None welch before None Welshman more Till Shon Clerk dye I le tole the bell I le ring his knell He dyed well He 's saved from Hell And so farewell Tom Ionce 126. On a young man Surpriz'd by grief and sicknesse here I lye Stopt in my middle age and soon made dead Yet doe not grudge at God if soon thou dye But know he trebles favours on thy head Who for thy morning work equals thy pay With those that have endur'd the heat oth'day 127. On the two Littletons that were drowned at Oxford 1636. Here lye we Reader canst thou not admire Who both at once by water dy'd and fire For whilst our bodies perish'd in the deep Our soules in love burnt so we fell asleep Let this be then our Epitaph Here lyes Two yet but one one for the other dyes 128. On a Butler That death should thus from hence our Butler catch Into my mind it cannot quickly sink Sure death came thirsty to the buttry-hatch When he that busi'd was deny'd him drink Tut 't was not so 't is like he gave him liquor And death made drunk him made away the quicker Yet let not others grive too much in mind the Butler's gone the keys are left behind 129. On M. Cook To God his Country and the poor he had A zealous soule free heart and lib'rall mind His wife his Children and his kindred sad Lack of his love his care and kindnesse find Yet are their sorrows asswag'd with the thought He hath attain'd the happinesse he sought 130. On a Porter At length by works of wondrous fate Here lyes the Porter of Winchester-gate If gone to heav'n as much I feare He can be but a Porter there He fear'd not hell so much â—or's sin As for th'great rapping and oft coming in 131. Vpon one who dyed in Prison Reader I liv'd enquire no more Left a spy enter in at doore Such are the times a dead man dare Not trust nor credit common aire But dye and lye Entombed here By me I 'l whisper in thine ear Such things as onely dust to dust And without witnesse may entrust 132. On Waddam Colledge Butler Mans life is like a new-tunn'd Cask they say The formost draught is oft times cast away Such are our younger years the following still Are more and more inclining unto ill Such is our manhood untill age at length Doth sowre its sweetnes doth stop its strength Then death prescribing to each thing its bounds Takes what is lefâ— and turns it all to grounds 133. On a Horse Here lies a Horse who dyed but To make his Master go on foot A miracle should it be so The dead to make the lame to go Yet Fate would have it that the same Should make him goe that made him lame 134. On an old Man a Residenciary Tread Sirs as lightly as you can Upon the grave of this old man Twice forty bating but one yeare And thrice three weeks he lived here Whom gentle fate translated hence To a more happy Residence Yet Reader let me tell thee this Which from his Ghost a promise is If here ye will some few tears shed He 'l never haunt ye now he 's dead 135. On a Maid Here she lyes in Bed spice Faire as Eve in Paradise For her beauty it was such Poets co'd not praise too much Virgins come and in a Ring Her supreamest Requium sing Then depart but see ye tread Lightly lightly ore the dead 136. On Husband and Wife To these whom Death againe did wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force Twixt soule and body a Divorce It could not sever Man and wife Because they both liv'd but one life Peace good Reader doe not weep Peace the Lovers are asleep They sweet Turtles folded lye In the last knot that love could tye Let them sleep let them sleep on Till this stormy night be gone And th' eternall morrow dawne Then the Curtaines will be drawne And they waken with that light Whose day shall never sleep in night 137. On Aretyne Here biting Aretyne lyes buried With gall more bitter never man was fed The living nor the dead to carp he spar'd Nor yet for any King or Caesar car'd Onely on God to raile he had forgot His answer was indeed I know him not 138. On William Coale
his self He hated men men did not love him No evill but his own might move him He was and was earths load and care He is and is hells brand and share 154. On Iohn Dawson Butler Dawson the Butler's dead although I think Poets were nere insusd with single drink I le spend a farthing Muse a watery Verse Will serve the turn to cast upon his Herse If any cannot weep among us here Take off his cup and so squeze out a teare Weep O ye barrels let your drippings fall In trickling streams make wast more prodigall Then when our beer was good that Iohn may float To Stix in beer and lift up Charrons boat With wholsome waves and as the Conduits ran VVith Claret at the Coronation So let your channels flow with single Tiff For Iohn I hope is crown'd take off your whiff Ye men of Rosemary and drink up all Remembring 't is a Butlers Funerall Had he been Master of good duble beer My life for his Iohn Dawson had been here 155. On Turn-Coat Passenger Stay Reade Walke Here Lyeth ANDREW TURNCOAT WHO WAS NEITHER SLAVE NOR SOULDIER NOR PHYSITIAN NOR FENCER NOR COBLER NOR FILCHER NOR LAWYER NOR USURER BUT ALL WHO LIVED NEITHER IN CITY NOR COUNTRY NOR AT HOME NOR ABROAD NOR AT SEA NOR AT LAND NOR HERE NOR ELSEWHERE BUT EVERY WHERE WHO DIED NEITHER OF HUNGER NOR POYSON NOR HATCHET NOR HALTER NOR DOGGE NOR DISEASE BUT OF ALL TOGETHER 1.1 H. BEING NEITHER HIS DEBTOR NOR HEIRE NOR KINSMAN NOR FRIEND NOR NEIGHBOUR BUT ALL IN HIS MEMORY HAVE ERECTED THIS NEITHER MONUMENT NOR TOMB NOR SEPULCHER BUT ALL WISHING NEITHER EVIL NOR WEL NEITHER TO THEE NOR TO ME NOR HIM BUT ALL UNTO ALL. 156. On a Dyer Though death the Dyer colour-lesse hath made Yet he dies pale and will not leave his trade But being dead the means yet doth not lack To dye his friends cloth into mourning black Some sure foresaw his death for they of late Usd to exclaim upon his dying Fate And weak and faint he seem'd oft times t' have been For to change colours often he was seen Yet there no matter was so foul but he Would set a colour on it handsomely Death him no unexpected stroke could give That learnt to dye since he began to live He shall yet prove what he before had try'd And shall once more live after he hath dy'd 157. On a disagreeing Couple Hic jacet ille qui centies mille Did scold with his Wife Cum illo jacet illa quae communis in villa Did quiâ—tance his life His name was Nick the which was sick And that very male Her name was Nan who loved well a man So Gentlemen vale 158. On a Foot-boy that dyed with overmuch running Base Tyrant death thus to assail one tir'd Who scarce his latest breath being left expir'd And being too too cruell thus to stay So swift a course at length ran quite away But pretty boy be sure it was not death That left behind thy body out of breath Thy soul and body running in a race Thy soul held out thy body tir'd apace Thy soul gained and left that lump of clay To rest it selfe untill the latter day 159. On a Scrivener Here to a period is the Scrivener come This is the last sheet his full point this Tomb. Of all aspersionsâ— excuse him not 'T is known he liv'd not without many a blot Yet he no ill example shew'd to any But rather gave good Copies unto many â—e in good Letters hath alwayes been bred And hath writ more then many men have read He rulers had at his command by Law And though he could not hang yet he could draw He far more bond-men had and made then any A dash alone of his pen ruin'd many That not without good reason we might call His Letters great or little Capitall Yet is the Scriveners fate as sure as just When he hath all done then he falls to dust 160. On Mr. P. Gray Reader stay And if I had no more to say But here doth lye till the last day All that is left of Philip Gray It might thy patience richly pay For if such men as he could dye What surety of life have thou and I 161. On a Chandler How might his dayes end that made weeks or he That could make light here laid in darknesse be Yet since his weeks were spent how could he chuse But be depriv'd of light and his trade lose Yet dead the Chandler is and sleeps in peace No wonder long since melted was his greace It seems that he did evill for day-light He hated and did rather wish the night Yet came his works to light and were like gold Prov'd in the fire but could not tryall hold His candle had an end and deaths black night Is an extinguisher of all his light 162. On a Smith Farewell stout Iron-side not all thine Art Could make a shield against deaths envious Dart. Without a fault no man his life doth passe For to his Vice the Smith addicted was He oft as Choler is increast by fire Was in a fume and much inclin'd to ire He had so long been usd to forge that he Was with a black-coal markt for forgery But he for witnesse needed not to care Who but a Black-smith was though ne'r so fair And opportunities he needed not That knew to strike then when their'n was hot As the door-Nailes he made hee 's now as dead He them and death him hath knockt on the head 163. On a man drown'd in the Snow Within a fleece of silent waters drown'd Before my death was known a grave I found The which exil'd my life from her sweet home For grief straight froze it selfe into a tombe One element my angry Fate thought meet To be my death grave tomb and winding sheet Phaebus himself an Epitaph had writ But blotting many ere he thought one fit He wrote untill my grave and tomb were gone And 't was an Epitaph that I had none For every one that passed by that way Without a sculture read that there I lay Here now the second time untomb'd I lye And thus much have the best of Destiny Corruption from which onely one was free Devour'd my grave but did not feed on me My first grave took me from the race of men My last shall give me back to life agen 164. On Doctor Hackets wifâ— Drop mournfull eyes your pearly trickling tears Flow streams of sadnesse down the spangled sphears Fall like the tumbling Cataracts of Nile Make deaf the world with cryes let not a smile Appear let not an eye be seen to sleep Nor slumber onely let them serve to weep Her dear lamented death who in her life Was a religious loyall loving wife Of Children tender to an husband kind Th' undoubted symtomes of a vertuous mind Which makes her glorious 'bove the highest pole Where Angels sing sweet Requiums to her soule She liv'd a none-such did a none-such dye
Ne'r none-such here her Corps interred lye 165. On a beautifull Virgin In this Marble buri'd lyes Beauty may inrich the Skyes And adde light to Phaebus eyes Sweeter then Aurora's aire When she paints the Lilies faire And gilds Cowslips with her haire Chafter then the Virgin spring Ere her blossomes she doth bring Or cause Philomel to sing If such goodnesse live 'mongst men Bring me it I know then She is come from heaven agen But if not ye standers by Cherish me and say that I Am the next design'd to dy 166. An ancient Epitaph on Martin Mar-Prelate The Welshman is hanged Who at our Kirk flanged And at her state banged And breaded are his Bukes And though he be hanged Yet he is not wranged The Devill has him fanged In his kruked klukes 167. Vpon Hodge Pue's Father Oh cruell death that stopâ— the view Of Thoms Parishioner good-man Pue Who lived alwayes in good order Untill that death stopt his Recorder Which was betwixt Easter and Pentecost In the year of the great frost At New-Market then was the King When as the Bells did merrily ring The Minister preached the day before Unto his Highnesse and no more Returning home said prayers and Buried the man as I understand 168. On our prime English Poet Geffery Chaucer an ancient Epitaph My Master Chaucer with his fresh Comedies Is dead alas chiefe Poet of Britaine That whilome made full piteous Tragedies The fault also of Princes did complaine As he that was of making Soveraigne Whom all this Land should of right preferre Sith of our Language he was the Load-sterre 169. On Mr. Edâ— Spencer the famous Poet. At Delphos shrine one did a doubt propound Which by the Oracle must be released Whether of Poets were the best renown'd Those that survive or they that are deceased The Gods made answer by divine suggestion While Spencer is alive it is no question 170. On Iohn Owen Well had these words been added to thy herse What e'r thou spak'st like Ovid was a verse 171. On Michael Drayton buryed in Westminster Doe pious Marble let thy Readers know What they and what their Children ow To Draytons sacred name whose dust We recommend unto thy trust Protect his memory preserve his story And a lasting Monument of his glory And when thy ruines shall disclaime To be the Treasury of his name His name which cannot fade shall be An everlasting Monument to thee 172. On Mr. Beaumont He that hath such acutenesse and such wit As well may ask six lives to manage it He that hath writ so well that no man dare Deny it for the best let him beware Beaumont is dead by whose sole death appears Wit 's a disease consumes men in few years 173. On William Shakespeare Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nigh To learned Chaucer and rare Beaumont lye A little nearer Spencer to make room For Shakespeare in your threefold fourfold tomb To lodge all four in one bed make a shift Untill Dooms-day for hardly will a fifth Betwixt this day and that by Fates be slain For whom your curtains may be drawn again If your precedency in death doe bar A fourth place in your sacred Sepulcher Under this sacred Marble of thine owne Sleep rare Tragoedian Shakespeare sleep â—lone Thy unmolested peace in an unshared cave Possesse as Lord not Tenant of thy grave That knto us and others it may be Honour hereafter to be laid by thee 174. On Ben Iohnson Here lyes Iohnson with the rest Of the Poets but the best Reader wo'dst thou more have known Ask his story not this stone That will speak what this can't tell Of his glory So farewell 175. Another on Ben I. The Muses fairest light in no dark time The wonder of a learned Age the line That none can passe the most proportion'd wit To Nature the best Judge of what was fit The deepest plainest highest clearest pen The voyce most Eccho'd by consenting men The soul which answer'd best to all well said By others and which most requitall made Tun'd to the highest key of ancient Rome Returning all her musick with her owne In whom with nature study claim'd a part And yet who to himself ow'd all his Art Here lyes Ben Iohnson every age will look With sorrow here with wonder on his Book 176. On Mr. Francis Quarles To them that understand themselves so well As what not who lies here to ask I 'l tell What I conceive envy dare not deny Far both from falshood and from flattery Here drawn to land by death doth lye A Vessell fitter for the skye Then Iasons Argo though to Greece They say it brought the Golden Fleece The skillfull Pilot steer'd it so Hither and thither to and fro Through all the Seas of Poetry Whether they far or near doe lye And fraught it so with all the wealth Of wit and learning not by stealth Or Piracy but purchase got That this whole lower world could not Richer Commodities or more Afford to adde unto his store To heaven then with an intent Of new discoveries he went And left his Vessell here to rest Till his return shall make it blest The bill of Lading he that looks To know may find it in his Books 177. On Doctor Donnes death He that would write an Epitaph for thee And doe it well must first begin to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to hurle down Enough to keep the Gallants of the Town He must have learning plenty both the Laws Civill and Common to judge any Cause Divinity great store above the rest None of the worst edition but the best He must have language travall all the Arts Judgement to use or else he wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to do Such as Maecenas and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vain descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let alone for me 176. On Doctor Whaly What is the young Apollo grown of late Conscious his tender years are nothing fit To rule the now large Heliconian Sâ—ate Without a sage Competitor in it And therefore senâ— death who might Whaly bring To be a Guardian to this stripling King Sure so it is but if we thought it might Be worse then this namely that th' Gods for spight To earth had ta'n him hence wee 'd weep amain Wee 'd weep a Phlegethon an Ocean Which might without the help of Charous Oares Ferry his soule to the Elysian shoares 179. On Doctor Bambrigg Were but this Marble vocall there Such an Elogium would appear As might though truth did dictate move Distrust in either faith or love As ample knowledge as could rest Inshrined in a Mortals breast Which ne'rethelesse did open lye Uncovered by humility A heart which piety had chose To be her Altar whence arose Such
smoaking Sacrifices that We here can onely wonder at A honey tongue that could dispence Torrents of sacred Eloquence That 't is no wonder if this stone Because it cannot speak doth groan For could Mortality assent These ashes would prove eloquent 180. On Sir Walter Rawleigh at his Execution Great heart who taught thee so to dye Death yielding thee the victory Where took'st thou leave of life if there How couldst thou be so freed from fear But sure thou dyest and quiâ—'st the state Of flesh and blood before the Fate Else what a miracle were wrought To triumph both in flesh and thought I saw in every stander by Pale death life onely in thine eye Th' example that thou left'st was then We look for when thou dy'st agen Farewell truth shall thy story say We dy'd thou onely liv'dst that day 181. On Sir Horatio Palavozeene Here lies Sir Horatio Palavozeene Who rob'd the Pope to pay the Queene And was a thief A thief thou ly'st For why he rob'd but Antichrist Him death with his beesome swept from Babram Into the bosome of old Abraham But then came Hercules with his Club And struck him down to Belzebub 182. On Sir Francis Drake drowned Where Drake first found there last he lost his fame And for Tomb left nothing but his name His body 's bury'd under some greaâ— wave The Sea that was his glory is his grave Of him no man true Epitaph can make For who can say Here lies Sir Francis Drake 183. Sir Ph. Sidney on himselfe It is not I that dye I do but leave an Inn Where harbour'd was with me all filthy sin It is not I that dye I doe but now begin Into etenall joy by faith to enter in Why mourn you then my Parents Friends and Kin Lament you when I lose not when I win 184. On Sir Walâ—er Rawleigh If spight be pleasd when as her object 's dead Or malice pleasd when it hath bruisd the head Or envy pleasd when it hath what it would Then all are pleasd for Rawleighs blood is cold Which were it warm and active would o'rcome And strike the two first blind the other dumbe 185. On Sir Philip Sidney Reader within this ground Sir Philip Sidney lyes Nor is it sir that more I should acquaint Left superstition rise And men adore A Lover Scholler Souldier and a Saint 186. On a Learned Nobleman He that can read a sigh and spell a tear Pronounce amazement or accent will fear Or get all grief by heart he onely he Is fit to write or read thy Elegie Unvalued Lord that wert so hard a text Read in one age and understood i'th'next 187. On the Tombs in Westminster Mortality behold and feare What a change of flesh is here Think how many Royall bones Sleep within these heaps of Stones Here they lye had Realms and Lands Who now want strength to stir their hands Where from their Pulpits seal'd with dust They preach in greatnesse is no trust Here 's an acre sown indeed With the richest royal'st seed That the earth did e'r suck in Since the first man dy'd for sin Here the bones of birth have cry'd Though Gods they were as men they dy'd Here are Sands ignoble things Dropt from the ruin'd sides of Kings Here 's a world of Pomp and State Buried in dust once dead by fate 188. On Queen Elizabeth Kings Queens Mens Virgins eyes See where the mirrour lyes In whom her friends have seen A Kings state in a Queen In whom her foes survai'd A Mans heart in a Maid Whom lest Men for her Piety Should grow to think some Deity Heaven hence by death did summon Her to shew that she was Woman 189. On Queen Anne who dyed in March was kept all Aprill and buried in May. March with his winds hath struck a Cedar tall And weeping Aprill mourns the Cedars fall And May intends her month no flowres shall bring Since she must lose the flow'r of all the Spring Thy March his winds have caused Aprill show'rs And yet sad May must lose his flow'r of flow'rs 190 On Prince Henry Reader wonder think it none Though I speak and am a stone Here is shriâ—'d Coelestialll dust And I keep it but in trust Should I not my treasure tell Wonder then you might as well How this Stone could chuse but break If it had not learn'd to speak Hence amaz'd and ask not me Whose these sacred ashes be Purposely it is conceal'd For alasse were that reveal'd All that read would by and by Melt themselves to tears and dy 191. On King Iames his death We justly when a meaner subject dyes Begin his Epitaph with Here he lyes But when a King whose memory remains Triumphant over death with here he reignes Now he is dead to whom the world imputes Deservedly eternall Attributes For shall we think his glory can decease That 's honour'd with the stile The King of Peace Whose happy union of Great Britanny Calls him the blessed King of Unity And in whose Royall Title it ensu'th Defender of the Faith and King of Truth These girt thy brows with an immortal Crown Great Iames turn thy Tomb into a Throne 192. On the King of Sweden The world expects Swede's monumentall stone Should equall the Philosophers each groane Should breath a golden vein and every verse Sould draw Elixar from his fatall Herse No fitter subject where strong lines should meet Than such a noble Center could the feet Of able Verse but trace his Victories Where all 's transcendent who out parallel'd Pluiarchs selected Heroes and is held The tenth of Worthies who hath over-acted Great German-Comment and contracted Hâ— expeditions by preventing aw He often overcame before he saw And what of his great Son Iove us'd to say He alwayes either found or made his way Such was his personall and single fight As if that death it self had ra'n her flight Into brave Swedensâ—cabbard â—cabbard when he drew Death with that steel inevitably flew His Camp a Church wherein the Gen'ralls life Was the best Sermon and the onely strife Amongst his was to repeat it bended knee Was his prime posture and his enemy Found this most prevalent his discipline Impartiall and exact it did out-shine Those Antique Martiall Grecian Roman lamps From which most of the worlds succeeding Camps Have had their borrow'd light this this was he All this and more yet even all this can dye Death surely ventur'd on the Swede to try If heav'n were subject to mortality And shot his soule to Heav'n as if that she Could if not kill unthrone a Deity Both Death 's deceiv'd 't is in another sense That Heaven is said to suffer violence No ir'n Chain-shot but 't is the golden chaine Of Vertue and the Graces are the maine That doe unhinge the everlasting Gates All which like yoked undivided maâ—es Were lin'd in Sweden where then were â—nchain'd Like Orthodoxall Volumes nothing feign'd Though fairly bound his story is not dipt In oyle but in his
RECREATION FOR Ingenious Head-peeces OR A Pleasant Grove FOR THEIR WITS TO WALK IN. Of Epigrams 700. Of Epitaphs 200. Of Fancies a number Of Fantasticks abundance With their Addition Multiplication and Division Marr. Non cuique datur habere nasum LONDON Printed by M Simmons in Aldersgate-Street 1654. WITT' 's RECREATIONS refined Augmented with Ingenious CONCEITES for the wittie And Merrie Medicines for the Melancholie See the next Page Printed by M.S. sould by Edw Archer in Little Brittain 1654. Ad Lectorem THis little Book is like a furnishe Feast And hath a dish I hope to please each guest Here thou may'st find some good and solid fare If thou lov'st pleasant junketâ— here they are Perhaps shâ—rp sawces take thee most if so I have Cooke for thee some sharp sawces too But if thy squemish stomack can like none No body hinders thee thou may'st be gone The Stationer to the Reader IF new or old wit please the Reader best I 've hope each man of wit will be our Guest The new was fram'd to humour some mens tast Which if they like not they may carve the last Each dish hath sawce belongs to 't and you wilâ— By your dislike censure the Authors skill Yet if you cannot speake well of it spare To utter your dislike that the like snare May entrap oâ—hers so the Booke may be Sold though not lik'd by a neat fallacie That 's all I aske yet 't will your goodness raise If as I gaine your coyne he may your praise EPIGRAMS 1. To the Reader EXcuse mee Reader though I now and than In some light lines doe shew my selfe a man Nor be so sowre some wanton words to blame They are the language of an Epigramme 2. On Battus Battus doth brag he hath a world of Books His Studies maw holds more then well it may But seld ' or never he upon them looks And yet he looks upon them every day He looks upon their outside but within He never looks nor never will begin 3. On Prue Prues nose hangs down so low one would suppose When ere she gapes that Prue would eat her nose 4. To Gripe Gripe keeps his coyn well and his heaps are great For which he seems wise in his own conceit Be not deceiv'd Gripe for ought I can see Thy bags in this sense are as wise as thee 5. On Man and Woman When man and Woman dyes as Poets sung His heart 's the last that stirs of hers the tongue 6. On Womans will How dearly doth the honest husband buy His wives defect of will when she doth dy Better in death by will to let her give Then let her have her will while she doth live 7. Spangle the spruce Gal Spruce Spangle's like to a Cynamon Tree His outside is of much more worth then he 8. Chaerilus Eat Toste and Oyle eat supple herbs and loos For thou look'st wondrous costive Chaerilus 9. In Paulum By lawfull Mart and by unlawfull stealth Pâ—ulus from th' Ocean hath deriv'd much wealth But on the Land a little gulfe there is Wherein he drowneth all that wealth of his 10. Vestitus peritus Clitus goes oft time clad in Suits of Scarlet That els no colour had to play the Varlet 11. Of Poetus Poetus with fine Sonnets painted forth This and that foul Ladies beauties worth He shews small wit therein and for his pains By my consent he never shall reap gainâ— Why what needs Poets paint them O sweet Elves When Ladies paint their beauties best themselves 12. Of Shift the Sharker Shift swears he keeps none but good company For though th' are such as he did never see Worse then himselfe he 's sure they cannot be 13. On an Vpstart Pray wrong not late coyn'd give the man his right He 's made a Gentleman although no Knight For now 't is cloaths the Gentleman doth make Men from gay cloaths their pedegrees doe take But wot you what 's the arms to such mens house Why this hands chancing of a Rampant Louse 14. Volens Nolens Will with provisio wills you testifie Has made his will but hath no will to die 15. Ad Clodium Wit once thou said'st was worth thy weight in gold Though now't be common for a trifle sold It dearer seems to thee that get'st not any When thou shouldst use it for thy love or money 16. In Getam Geta from wooll and weaving first began Swelling and swelling to a Gentleman When he was Gentleman and bravely dight He left not swelling till he was a Knight At last forgetting what he was at first He sweld to be a Lord and then he burst 17. To Emson Emson thou once in Dutch wouldst court a wench But to thy cost she answered thee in French 18. In Fimum Fimus is Coach'd and for his farther grace Doth aâ—k his friends how he becomes the place Troth I should tel him the poor coach hath wrong And that a Cart would serve to carry dung 19. In Flaccum The false knave Flaccus once a bribe I gave The more fool I to bribe so false a knave But he gave back my bribe the more fool he That for my folly did not cousen me 20. Of Womens naked breasts In open shopâ— flyes often blow that flesh Which in close safeâ— might be kept longer fresh They but invite flesh-flyes whose full spread papâ— Like road wayes lie between their lips and laps 21. On Morcho Morcho for haste was married in the night What needed day his fair young wife is light 22. On a Bragadocio Don Lollus brags he comes from Noble blood Drawn down from Brutus line 't is very good If this praise-worthy be each Flea may then Boast of his blood more then som Gentlemen 23. Edens vomens Cacus that sups so duly at the Rose Casts up the reckning truly ere he goes 24. On a Pumpe stopt with stones M. I 'le cut it down I swear by this same hand If 't will not run it shall no longer stand R. Pray Sir be patient let your Pump alone How can it water make when 't hath the stone Yet did he wisely when he did it fell For in so doing he did make it well 25. Of Prittle-prattle Though th'danger be not great of all tame cattle Yet the most troublesome is Prittle-prattle 26. In Aulum Thou still art muttring Aulus in mine ear Love me and love my Dog I will I swear Thou ask'st but right and Aulus truth to tell I think thy Dog deserves my love as well 27. Ad Tilenum Tilens ' cause th' art old fly not the field Where youthfull Cupid doth his bâ—nner wield For why this god old men his Souldiers stil'd None loves but he who hath been twice a Child 28. To Vellius Thou swearst I bowl as well as most men doe The most are bunglers therein thou say'st true 29. Three Genders A wife although most wise and chast is of the Doubtfull Gender A Quean o th' Common Feminines are Women small and tender 30. Of Brawle Brawle
to kisse his foot if he were bidden My foot said he nay that were too submisse You three foot higher well deserve to kisse 250. Non lubens loquitur Gluto at meals is never heard to talk For which the more his chaps and chin do walk When every one that sits about the bord Makes sport to ask what Gluto ne'r a word He forc'd to answer being very loath Iâ— almost choak'd speaking and eating both 251. On Philos. If Philos none but those are dead doe praise I would I might displease him all his dayes 252. The promise-breaker Ventus doth promise much but still doth break So all his promises are great and weak Like bubbles in the water round and light Swelling so great that they are broke out-right 253. Change What now we like anon we disapprove The new successor drives away old love 254. On a passing Bell. This dolefull musick of impartiall death Who danceth after danceth out of breath 255. Nummos demona jungit Bat bids you swell with envy till you burst So he be rich and may his coffers fill Bringing th' example of the Fox that 's curst And threatning folks who have least power to killâ— For why 't is known his trade can never fall That hath already got the Devill and all 256. Nil gratum ratione carens Paulus a Pamphlet doth in prose present Unto his Lord the fruits of idle time Who far more carelesse then therewith content Wisheth it were converted into rime Which done and brought him at another season Said now 't is rime before nor rime nor reason 257. Non cessat perdere lusor Ask Ficus how his luck at dicing goes Like to the tide quoth he it ebbes and flows Then I suppose his chance cannot be good For all men know 't is longer ebbe than flood 258. Womens policy To weep oft still to flatter sometime spin Are properties women excell men in 259. Volucrem sic decipit auceps Hidrus the Horse-courser that cunning mate Doth with the buyers thus equivocate Claps on his hand and prays he may not thrive If that his gelding be not under five ☞ 260. Perdat qui caveat emptor Nor lesse meant Promus when that vow he made Then to give o'r his cousening Tapsters trade Who check'd for short and frothy measure swore He never would from henceforth fill pot more 261. On Death How base hath sin made man to fear a thing Which men call Mors which yet hath lost all sting And is but a privation as we know Nay is no word if we exempt the O Then let good men the fear of it defie All is but O when they shall come to dye 262. To Mr. Ben Iohnson demanding the reason why he call'd his playes works Pray tell me Ben. where doth the mystery lurk What others call a play you call a work 263. Thus answer'd by a friend in Ben Iohnsons defence The Authors friend thus for the Author sayes Bens plays are works when others works are plays 264. On Crambo a lowsie shifter By want of shift since Lice at first are bred And after by the same increast and fed Crambo I muse how you have Lice so many Since all men know you shift as much as any 265. Ad Aristarchum Be not agriev'd my humorous lineâ— afford Of looser language here and there a word Who undertakes to sweep a common sink I cannot blame him though his broom do stink 266. In Aulum Aulus gives naught men say though much he crave Yet I can tell to whom the Pox he gave 267. On covetous persons Patrons are Latrons then by this Th' are worst of greedy people Whose cognizance a Wolfs head is And in his mouth a steeple 268. On a Dyer Who hath time hath life that he denies This man hath both yet still he dies 269. Non verbera sed verba Two Schollars late appointed for the field Must which was weakest to the other yield The quarrell first began about a word Which now should be decided by the sword But e'r they drew there fell that alteration As they grew friends again by disputation 270. Love and Liberty â—ove he that will it bâ—st likes mee â—o have my neck from loves yoke free 271 To a neat reader â—hou say'st my verses are rude ragged ruffe â—ot like some others rimes smooth dainty stuffeâ— â—pigrams are like Satyrs rough without â—ike Chesnuts sweet take thou the kernell out 272. Of Letting â—n bed a young man with his old wife lay O wife quoth he I 've let a thing to day By which I fear I am a loser much His wife replyes youths bargains still are such So turning from him angry at her heart She unawares let out a thundring O wife quoth hee no loser am I now A marv'lous saver I am made by you Young men that old wives have may never sell Because old wives quoth hee let things so well 273. Sublata causa c. Why studies Silvester no more the lawes 'T is thought Duck-lane has tane away the cause 274. Sapiat qui dives oportet 'T is known how well I live sayes Romeo And whom I list I 'le love or will despise Indeed it 's reason good it should be so For they that wealthy are must needs be wise But this were ill if so it come to passe That for your wealth you must be beg'd an 〈◊〉 275. In Dossum Dosse riding forth the wind was very big And strained court'â—ie with his Perriwig Leaving his sconce behind so voyd of haire As Esops Crow might break her Oyster there Fool he to think his hair could tarry fast When Boreas tears forrests with a blast 276. Post dulcia finis amarus Ienkin a Welshman that had suits in Law Journying to London chanc'd to steal a Cow For which pox on her luck as ne'r mon saw Was burnt within the fist and know not how Being ask'd if well the Lawes with him did stand Hur have hur now quoth Ienkin in hur hand 277. Feminae Iudificantur viros Kind Katharine to her Husband kisâ— these words Mine own sweet Will how dearly doe I love thee If true quoth VVill the world no such affords And that it 's true I durst his warrant bee For ne'r heard I of woman good or ill But alwayes loved best her owne sweete will 278. Ad Tusserum Tusser They tell me when thou wert alive Thou teaching thrift thy self couldst never thrive So like the whâ—â—stone many men are wont To sharpen others when themselves are blunt 229. Praestat videri quam esse Clitus with clients is well customed That hath the Lawes but little studied No matter Clitus so they bring their fees How ill the case and thy advice agrees 280. Tunc â—ua res agitur A jealous Marchant that a Sailor meâ— Ask'd him the reason why he meant to marry Knowing what ill their absence might beget That still at Sea constrained are to tarry Sir quoth the saylor think you that so strange 'T is done the
work remaines one part is past And here my Ship rides having Anchor cast 707. On Bearill Bearill because his wife is somewhat ill Uncertain in her health indifferent still He turns her out of doors without reply Wondring at which I askt the reason why In sicknesse and in health sayes he I 'm bound Onely to keep her either weak or sound But now shee 's neither he replies you 'l see Shee 'l quickly now or mend or end sayes he 708. On Bib. Wisdome doth teach us silence now Bib is With drink made speechlesse is he not then wise 709. On Silly Silly by chance did loose his Diary Of wit which he had got in company No marvel he now so mute and pensive sits How can he choose since he hath lost his wits 710. Ad sesquipidales poetastros Hence Brauron's God to Tauriminion And you Levaltoring Corybantâ— be gon Fly thundering Bronsterops to Hippocrene And Mauros to Nymph-nursing Mytelene Grisly Megaera's neâ—romantique spell Depart to black nights Acherontick cell Avaunt transformed Epidaurian Unto th'Antipod Isles of Trabroban Away Cyllenius plumy-pinnion'd God With thy peace making wand snakecharming rod And all the rest not daring look upon Vranus blood-born brood and fell Typhon Chimera's victor great Bellerophon Thou vanquisher of Spanish Geryon Stout Asdruball Sicilian Lord of yore Thou that destroy'dst the Caledonian bore Couragious conqueror of Cretes Minotaure Thou pride of Mermeno's cloudy Semitaure Perseus whose marble stone transforming shield Enforc'd the Whale Andromeda to yeeld You Argonautes that scour'd Syndromades And passd the quick-sands of Symplegades Help Demogorgon King of heaven and earth Chaos Lucina at Litigiums birth The world with child looks for delivery Of Canibals or Poetophagy A devilish brood from Ericthonius From Iphidemia Nox and Erebus Chide Pegasus for op'ning Helicon And Poets damn Pyry-Phlegeton Or make this monstrous birth abortive be Or else I will shake hands with Poetry Nihil sic nisi Carmina desunt Marmora Maeonii vincunt menumenta libelli Vivitur ingenio caetera mortis erunt The Muses works stone-Monumenâ—â— outlast 'T is wit keeps life all else Death will down cast EPITAPHS 1. On a Lyer GOod passenger here lyes one here That living did lye every where 2. On a Dyer He lives with God none can deny That while he liv'd to th' world did dy 3. On a Iugler Death came to see thy tricks and cut in twain Thy threed why didst not make it whole again 4. On Mr. Fish Worm's bait for Fish but here is a great change Fish bait for worms is not that very strange 5. On a Child A child and dead alas how could it come Surely thy thread of life was but a thrumme 6. On Mr. Do. Do is my name and here I lye My Grammar tels me Do fit Di. 7. On Taylor a Serjeant kill'd by a Horse A Taylour is a Theef a Sergeant is worse Who here lies dead god-a-massy Horse 8. On Mr. Thomas Best With happy starres he sure is blest Where â—'ere he goes that stil is Best 9. On Robin Round Robin's gone and this grave doth inclose The pudding of his doublet and his hose 10. On Bell the Tinker Bell though thou dy'dst decrepâ—t lame forlorn Thou was 't a man of Mettle I 'l be sworn 11. On proud Tygeras Proud and foolish so it comes to passe He liv'd a Tyger and he dy'd an Asse 12. On Iohn Cofferer Here lyes Iohn Cofferer and takes his rest Now he hath chang'd a Coffer for a Chest. 13. On blind and deaf Dick Freeman Here lyes Dick Freeman That could not hear nor see man 14. On a Miller Death without warning was as bold as brief When he kil'd two in one Miller and Thief 15. On a Lady Here lyes one dead under this marble stone Who when she liv'd lay under more than one 16. On a Wrestler Death to the Wrestler gave a pretty fall Tript up his heels and took no hold at all 17. On Iohn Death Here 's Death interred that liv'd by bread Then all should live now Death is dead 18. On an Infant The reeling world turn'd Poet made a Play I came to see 's dislik'd it went my way 19. On a little but very ingenuous youth Grim Death perceiving He had far out ran The elder youthâ— mistook him for a man 20. On a Lady dying quickly after her Husband He first deceased she a little try'd To live without him lik'd it not and dy'd 21. On Mr. Stone Jerusalems curse is not fulfill'd in me For here a stone upon a stone you see 22. On Mr. Strange Here lies one Strange no Pagan Turk nor Jew It 's strange but not so strange as it is true 23. A Forts Epitaph Reader it was born and cry'd Crack'd so smelt so and so dy'd 24. On Mr. Anguish a scholler Some doe for anguish weep for anger I That ignorance should live and art should dye 25. On a lovely young youth From thy quick death conclude we must The fairest flowers are gather'd first 26. On Mr. Thomas Aâ—len No Epitaphs need make the just man fam'd The good are prais'd when they are onely nam'd 27. On a Lady Finis and Bonum are converted so That every good thing to an end must go 28. On a pious Benefactor The Poor the World the Heavens and the Grave His Alms his Praise his Soule and Body have 29. On a Poet in Prison Though I in prison here doe lye My Muse shall live altho I dye 30. On a poor Poet. Here lies the Poet buried in the night Whose purse men know it was exceeding light 31. A man and his wife Viator siste ecce miraculum Vir uxor hic non ligitunt 32. On a Pauls-walker Defessus sum ambulando 33. On a Scrivener May all men by these presents testifie A lurching Scrivener here fast bound doth lye 34. On one that cheated his Father Here lies a man who in a span Of life beyond his Father ran 35. On a Cut-purse Death hath that Cut-purse seiz'd on at Alhallows Who by good hap hath so escap'd the Gallows 36. On a young great wit Great wits are dangerous for then It seems they seldome come to men 37. On an Vsurer That all those goods and riches scrap'd together Should with himself depart knows not whither 38. On a Captain Who late in wars did dread no foes in field Now free of scars his life in peace doth yeeld 39. On a Potter He that on clay his chiefest trust repos'd Is now in clay in stead of dust repos'd 40. On a Merchant Who from accounts and reckningâ— ne'r could rest At length hath summ'd up his Quietus est 41. On a young man newly maried dyed The world and thou art quickly gone about That but now enâ—ring in art entred out 42. On Iohn Friend How ere he fail'd in 's life 't is like Iack Friend Was no mans foe but 's own and there 's an end 43. On Christopher Fowler Let all say what they can ' â—is known
still was conversant 'mongst beds of dust 86. On a Drunkard Bibax the Drunkard while he liv'd would say The more I drink the more methinks I may But see how death hath prov'd his saying just For he hath drunk himselfe as dry as dust 87. On a Child Tread softly passenger for here doth lye A dainty Jewell of sweet Infancy A harmlesse babe that onely came and cry'd In baptism to be wash'd from sin and dy'd 88. Another In this marble Casket lyes A matchlesse Jewell of rich priâ—e Whom nature in the worlds disdain But shew'd and put it up again 89. On Mr. Sands Who would live in others breath Fame deceives the dead mans trust When our names doe change by death Sands I was and now am dust 90. On Mr. Goad Go adde this Verse to Goad's herse For Goad is gone but whither Goad himselfe is gone to God 'T was deaths Goad drove him thither 91. On Monday Hallowed be the Sabbath And farewell all worldly pelf The week begins on Tuesday For Munday hath hang'd himself 92. On a Child Here a pretty Baby lyes Sung asleep with Lullabies Pray be silent and not stir Th' easie earth that covers her 93. On a Matron Here lies a wife was chast a mother blest A modest Matron all these in one chest Sarah unto her Mate Mary to God Martha to men whilst here she had aboad 94. In Latine thus Vxor casta Parens felix Matrona pudica Sara viro mundo Martha Maria Deo 95. On a Souldier When I was young in Wars I shed my blood Both for my King and for my Countries good In elder years my care was chief to be Souldier to him that shed his blood for me 96. On Mr. Dumbelow that dyed of the winde Collicke Dead is Dick Dumbelow Would you the reason know Could his tail have but spoken His stout heart had not broken 97. On Mr. Kitchins death Kitchin lyes here for so his name I found I see Death keeps his Kitchin under ground And the poor worms that flesh of late did eat Devour their Kitchin now for want of meat 98. On Isabella a Curtezan He who would write an Epitaph Whereby to make fair Is'bell laugh Must get upon her and write well Here underneath lies Isabell. 99. On a vertuous wife In brief to speak thy praise let this suffice Thou wert a wife most loving modest wise Of children carefull to thy neighbours kind A worthy Mistresse and of liberall mind 100. On Mr. Christopher Lawson Death did not kill unjustly this good man But death in death by death did shew his power His pious deeds and thoughts to heaven fore-ran There to prepare his soule a blessed bower 101. On a Welshman Here lyes puryed under these stones Shon ap Williams ap Shinkyn ap Shones Her was porn in Whales her was kill'd in France Her went to Cot by a very mis-shance La ye now 102. On Mr. Carter burnt by the great powder-mischance in Finsbury Here lies an honest Carter yet no clown Unladen of his cares his end the Crown Vanish'd from hence even in a cloud of smoke A blown-up Citizen and yet not broke 103. On a Lady dying in Childbed Born at the first to bring another forth She leavâ— the world to leave the world her worth Thus Phoenix-like as she was born to bleed Dying her selfe renews it in her seed 104. On a Faulconer Death with her talonâ— having seiz'd this prey After a tedious flight trusâ—'d him away We mark'd him here he fell whence he shall rise At call till then unretriv'd here he lyes 105. On Ioan Truman who had an issue in her legge Here lyes crafty Ioan deny it who can Who liv'd a false maid and dy'd a Truman And this trick she had to make up her cunning Whilst one leg stood still the other was running 106. On a youth Now thou hast heaven for merit but 't is strange Morality should envy at thy change God thought us unfit for such as thee And made thee consort of eternity We grieve not then that thou to heaven art taken But that thou hast thy friends so soon forsaken 107. On Prince Henry Did he dye young O no it could not be For I know few that liv'd so long as he Till God and all men lov'd him then behold The man that lives so long must needs be old 108. On borne before his time Greiv'd at the world and times this early Bloom Look'd round and sigh'd and stole into his Tomb His fall was like his Birth too quick this Rose Made hast to spread and the same hast to close Here lyes his dust but his best Tomb's fled hence For Marble cannot last like Innocence 109. On a very fat man Under this pebble stone Here fast sleepeth one And that is not two Yet was without doubt Far bigger about Then both I and you His kidneys encreast So much that his wast Was hooped all round But his girdle death cuts And down fell his guts ' Bouts heels to the ground 110. On Iohn Newter Reader Iohn Newter who erst plaid The Jack on both sides here is laid Who like the herb Iohn indifferent Was not for King or Parliament Yet fast and loose he could not play With death he took him at a Bay What side his soule hath taken now God or Devil we hardly know But this is certain since he dy'd He hath been mist of neither side 111. On Hocas Pocas Here Hocas lyes with his tricks and his knocks Whom death hath made sure as his Juglers box Who many hath cozen'd by his leiger-demain Iâ— presto convey'd and here underlain Thus Hocas he 's here and here he is not While death plaid the Hocas and brought him to th'pot 112. On a Child of two years old being born and dying in July Here is laid a Iuly flowre With surviving tears bedew'd Not despairing of that houre When her spring shall be renew'd Ere she had her summer seen She was gather'd fresh green 113. On a Cobler Death at a Coblers door oft made a stand And alwayes found him on the mending hand At last came death in very foul weather And ript the sole from the upper leather Death put a trick upon him and what was 't The Cobler call'd for 's Awle death brought his last 114. On a young Gentlewoman Nature in this small volume was about To perfect what in woman was left out Yet carefull least a piece so well begun Should want preservatives when she had done Ere she could finish what she undertook Threw dust upon it and shut up the Book 115. On a Scholler Forbear Friend t'unclaspe this book Only in the forefront look For in it have errours bin Which made the Author call it in Yet know this 't shall have more worth At the second coming forth 116. On a young Woman The body which within this earth is laid Twice six weeks knew a wife a Saint a maid Fair maid chast wife pure Saint yet 't