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A pleasaunte Laborinth called Churchyardes Chance

framed on Fancies, uttered with verses, and writtee[n] to giue solace to eury well disposed mynde: wherein not withstanding are many heauie Epitaphes, sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season (and passages of witte) that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed. All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde, and recreation of the worthie, and dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley, Knight, Lorde Chancelour of Englande [by Thomas Churchyard]
 

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The Lorde Braies Epitaphe.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Lorde Braies Epitaphe.

Crie out thou worlde and Court, and saie that loste ye haue:
A better Iewell for his daies, then your desarts doe craue.
But small ye waie the losse, of hym and others eke:
Of whose good nature when ye neede, ye are full farre to seeke.
Whiche maks your plague the more, though least ye thinke thereon:
When ofte ye wishe them here againe, that long are dedde and gon.
As Gold from Lead is knowne, sutche diffrence is in deede:
In men, and more vnlike thei are, then flowre is vnto weede.

[6]

Lorde Braie declares the same, who was so clere a Lampe:
That fewe or none my iudgement giues, are left vs of that stampe.
So currant for the Court, so comely in the felde:
So right a sparke of Natures moulde, hath here been seen but selde.
His face did full present, a manly worthie minde:
His woords set forthe a further skill, then all mens heds could finde.
His life could none mislike, his Nature (throughly good:)
His hande more freely gaue awaie, then worlde well vnderstood.
A harte where honour dwelt, a corps full trimly knitte:
A shape as kinde had breath'd hym out, a hedde where lackt no witte.
O Braie thou borest awaie, the banner of renowne:
Let none thinke scorne to followe thee, in feeld in court nor toune.
I take a heauie leaue, of thee and so I cease:
And leaue thee flikeryng in the aire, before the God of peace.
FINIS.