University of Virginia Library

EPITAPHS.

On M. Thomas Fitton, and his wife Winifred.

On fat Tom Fitton, and his leane wife Win,
May thus be written, Here lyes thick and thin.

On a faire young Maid.

Behold here Time inters, who would not spare
those comly corps of hers, wch worms must share

On Edward Alcocke.

Cause of the dead nought must be said but good
Tis well for Ned that nought be vnderstood.

On Iohn Garret.

Gone is Iohn Garret, who to all mens thinking,
For loue to claret, kil'd himself with drinking.

On Mistris Bonner.

VVhiles Mrs. Bonner, dressing was her head,
Death stole vpon her, & so strook her dead.

On Thom. Cromwell.

Here lyes Tom. Cromwell, did much mony spend
Louing a Bom well to his latest end.

On Gregory the Drawer.

Greg. laid in's graue, who cā but deep deplore it
That so much liquor gaue, & scorn'd to score it.

On Kate Hill.

Here lies a Maid whom men call'd Katherin Hil
That true was said, dy'd much against her wil.

On a poore Fidler.

Dead was that Fidler found the fifth of Iune,
whose thē sweet musicks soūd wēt out of tune.

On a rich Tanner.

Here buried now you see our brother Tanner,
Whose skin must curried be in other manner.

On a Gardner.

Those fragrant Roses on thy coffin spred,
Thy corps incloses with thee (liuing) dead.

On a Gallant.

Who cloth of Tissue wore, here flat doth lye,
Hauing no Issue, more then that in's thigh.

On a Cobler.

See how pale death, wch no man may withstand,
Hath stopt his breath was on the mending hand.

On a Ioyner.

Lo here from strife rests honest Iohn our Ioyner,
Who all his life was neuer knowne purloener.

On a Player.

He that on stages oft-times iesting plaid,
To after ages hath now earnest payd.

On a proud rich man.

He that so proud late liu'd, and spar'd no cost
In lockram shroud lies buried in the frost.

On a Traueller.

Who traueld oft from countries east and west,
Still gaining nought, now rich at length doth rest.

On Iohn West.

Here lyes Iohn West, who wearied with a wife,
For quiet rest, desir'd to end his life.

On George Rust.

Rvst laid in dust, see how his son is rais'd,
That liu'd on trust till now, the Lord be praisd.

On old Ralph.

Old Ralph bereft of this life transitory,
The world hath left, which made him wondrous sory.

On a Porter.

Thou from a Porters trade (bearing) we see,
Hast other Porters made by bearing thee.

On a Waterman.

Here sleeps Will Slater, who by deaths command,
Hath left the water, to possesse the land.

On a great personage.

Lo here's his greatnesse laid, wch whiles it stood
Was seldome seen or said did any good.

On a Taylor.

Cruell was Atropos to cut his threds,
Made garments fit for those, now turn'd to shreds.

On Dol Prowt.

Here lyes Dol Prowt, whose dayes (left death should wrong her,)
Were so worne out, as she could liue no longer.

On Stephen Spooner.

Death hath time borrowed of our neighbour Spooner,
Whose wife much sorrowed that he dy'd no sooner.

On Iohn Long.

Here sleeps I. Long, who liu'd till Newyears tide
Full fourscore strong, but then fell sick & dy'd.

On a Bellowes maker.

Who so much breath to others daily sold,
For want of breath, no longer life can hold.

On a Welchman.

Who liuing least espy'd his life should leese,
By meere Mathegglin dy'd and tosted cheese

On a Tobacconist.

Who much Tobacco puft more then his part,
With smoake his lungs had stuft, but had no heart.

On old Iohn a Tree.

Let all men passing by behold and see,
Here low doth buryed lye, old Iohn a Tree.

On a mad man.

He now in sadnesse layd is in his graue,
That late with madnesse did so raile and raue.

On a Iugler.

He that so skilfull could play fast and loose,
Kild himselfe wilfull, eating so much Goose.

On Mal Keeme.

Death it should seeme with doome too much oredeeming,
Hath tane Mal Keeme before her time of teeming.

On Mistris Bab.

Death playd the Scab, that had so soon enthrald
Fine mistris Bab, not knocking ere it cald.

On a Sluggard.

Somnus that slept his fill in time of need,
Prayes you accept the will as for the deed.

In Samuelem.

Sam of a surfet dy'd: thought rich to be,
But how you'ld proue that tride, pray ask not me

On Iohn Cooling, a Player.

Death hath too soon remou'd from vs Io. Cooling
That was so well belou'd, and liu'd by fooling.

In Thomam Speed.

Mad wenches bewaile you, for dead is Tom Speed
Was nere wont to faile you at all times of need.

In Walterum Moone.

Here lyes Wat Moone, that great Tobacconist,
Who dy'd too soone for lacke of Had I wist.

In Mechum Io. Cartir.

Death meant to play the Box on thee Iohn Cartir
That from a sturdy Oxe hath made a martyr.

In Lodovicum.

Sir Lewes that went from London to lead a country life,
Hath made himself quite vndone by burying of his wife

In Radulphum.

Ralph bids adue to pleasures good or ill,
But tels you true tis much against his will.

In Dorotheam Rich.

Here resteth yong Dol Rich, that dainty drab,
Who troubled long with itch, dy'd of the scab

On Iohn Batts the Brewer.

Bold spitefull fates that in the pit durst tumble
Courteous Iohn Batts, that brewd good Ale of Bumble.

On Christopher Fowler.

Let all say what they can, tis known Kit Fowler
Was held an honest mā, thogh no good bowler

On Iohn Frend.

How ere by luck orethrown, tis like Iack Frend
Was no mans foe but's own, and ther's an end.

In meipsum.

Good neighbours if ye marke, my turne comes next on,
Who liuing long a Clarke, must dye a Sexton.

In Latronem.

He that so stout was knowne made others stand
Himselfe hath quite orethrown without command.

In Io. Owin.

With fame more famous shall thy fame nere dead,
Cause thee outlasting liue eternized.

In eundem.

Those shortest sharpest lines best wit could mētiō,
Were short cōpar'd to thy more sharpe inuentiō.

In eundem.

Well had these words bin added to thy Herse,
What ere thou spak'st (like Ouid) was a verse

In D. Wake durum opulentum.

Wake with long watching is at length laid sleeping,
For losse of whom there needs but little weeping,
That nere was lou'd or knowne for good house keeping.

On a young man newly maried.

The world and thou art quickly gone about,
That but new entring in art entred out.

On a late made Lady.

Ill lucke to liue no longer Ladifi'd,
Who that day twelue-month wedded, that day dy'd

On a Merchant.

Who frō accounts & recknings nere could rest
At length hath summ'd vp his Quietus est.

On a Lawyer.

Here lyes a Lawyer freed from strifes and iarres
Of Kings-bench, Chācery, or Exchequer bars.

On a Potter.

He that on clay his chiefest trust repos'd,
Is now in clay, in stead of dust inclos'd.

On a Captaine.

Who late in wars did dread no foes in field,
Now free of scars, his life in peace doth yield.

On Sir Patricke an Irishman.

Death on Sir Patricke playd an Irish part,
That at's own weapon stabd him to the hart.

On a rich feeder.

Sirogites merito cuinam laus propria detur,
Here lyes the man was late a Capon-eater.

On a rich Baker.

Ovr Baker's dead, and layd in earth,
Who liu'd by Bread in time of dearth.

On an Vsurer.

That all those goods and riches scrap't together
Shold wth himself depart, & knows not whither.

On a Wrestler.

Death to this wrestler giues a cunning fall,
That tript his heeles, and takes no hold at all.

On Dick Hawks.

Dick seem'd of death so wondrous discontented,
As more of breath then any thing repented.

On a Tinker.

Who (liuing) many a hole had tinkling stopt,
Now (dead) into a hole is stincking popt.

On a Miller.

Death without warning waxt as bold as briefe,
Kild two in one, a Miller and a Thiefe.

On a Butler.

Vngentle Death with spitefull spade to digge it
For Dicke, so quicke and nimble at the spiggit.

On a Cooke.

Death through the pastry peeping in disguise,
Took poor Tom Cook from making of his pies.

On a Cutpurse.

Death hath that cut-purse seiz'd on at Alhallowes
Who by good hap hath so escap't the Gallowes.

On a Scriuener.

May all men by these presents testifie,
A lurching Scriuener here fast boūd doth lye

On a Saylor drowned.

Thou that on Haddocks many one hast fed,
May Haddocks feed vpon thee now th'art dead

On a Poet.

Here lies that Poet, buried in the night,
Whose purse, mē know it, was exceeding light