University of Virginia Library

Now all ye mourners who the honour have
To beare him on your shoulders to his grave,
Take up your load, and weeping all the way,
Unto his shadie chamber him convey:
The mother earth is readie to receive
Her welcome child; there in her armes him leave.
Thus finisht is midway my dolefull song,
Which ere I any further doe prolong,
My selfe I doe apply, and turne my speech
To whom it most concernes, and them beseech
For his deere sake, whose memory is deere
As was his life, and love to mee too, here
In Jet or Touch these sorry lines ingraffe
Too much though (true is) for an Epitaph.