An Epitaph on the death of the vertuous Matrone, the Ladie Maioresse late wyfe to the right Honorable Lorde, (Alexander Auenet) Lord Maior of the Citie of London. Who deceased the vii. Date of July. 1570 [by John Phillip(s)] |
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 | An Epitaph on the death of the vertuous Matrone, the Ladie Maioresse |  |
An Epitaph on the death of the vertuous Matrone, the Ladie Maioresse, late wyfe to the right Honorable Lorde, (Alexander Auenet) Lord Maior of the Citie of London. Who deceased the .vii. Daie of Iuly. 1570.
Helpe
nowe ye Muses nyne, powre out your Noates of woe:
Aide me wt pitious pearcing plaints, the losse of her to shoe.
Whose Uertues (maugre Death,) shal lyue and last for aye:
As fliyng Fame in Golden Trump, doth cherefully display.
Ye Ladyes leaue your sportes: your Pastymes set asyde
To weepe this Ladies Fatall fine: Cunduictes of streames prouide.
Cast off your costly Silkes: your Iuelles nowe forsake:
To decke your selues in mournynge Weedes, now poastynge haste do make:
Helpe now ye faythfull Wyues, to wayle this faythfull Wyfe:
Whose flowynge Uertues were not hyd, whyle she enioyed lyfe,
As well to Frende as Foe, her Curtesie was knowne:
But now the Goddes haue thought it good, to clayme agayne their owne.
LVCINA hath forgot her Chardge, the fatall Fates haue don:
CLOTHO hath left the Rocke of lyfe: and LACHAS longe hath spon.
These werie of their wonted toyle, at mightie IOVES Decree:
To whom the Heauens, the Earth and Sea: and all thynges Subiect bee.
The Sister dire, fearce ATROPOS, with schortchyng cuttynge Knyfe,
Hath shred the Threede that longe dyd holde, this Godly Ladies lyfe.
Whose losse deare Dames bewayle: and weepe with many a teare:
For you shall misse a Matrone graue, in daunger you to cheare.
Whose Counsell in their neede, her Neighbours could not want:
Her Helpe vnto the Comfortlesse, could neuer yet bee scant.
Unto the poore opprest, with Sickenesse, griefe and payne:
To minister and giue reliefe: her Hart was euer fayne.
The Poore haue lost a Nurse, to helpe their nedie state:
The Ritche shall want a perfecte Frende: as they can well relate.
Thus Ritche and Poore shall want, her Aide at euerie neede,
For both Estates in daunger deepe: she laboured to feede.
The Ritche with Counselles swete, to chearish styll she thought:
The Poore by Almes and lyberall Giftes: to tender longe she sought.
But who shall haue the greatest losse: I knowe is not vnknowen,
Her best beloued: the Wight whom shee, accompted for her owne.
The Lorde MAIOR whiche nowe doth rule: in LONDON noble Citie:
Shall want her sight, (the greater griefe, to misse a Mate so wittie
A Phenyx rare, a Turtell true, so constant in her loue:
That Nature nedes must showe her Force, her Husbandes Teares to moue
Who for the losse of suche a Wyfe: can sobbyng Sighes refrayne?
In whom so many Uertues dyd, continue and remayne.
You Damselles deare Domesticall, whiche in her House abyde:
Haue cause to wayle, for you haue lost a good and godly Guide.
Whose Lenytie and gentell Hart, you all haue knowen and felt:
For vnto you in Courteous sorte, her Giftes she euer dealt.
You Officers that dayly serue, her Lorde at euery neede:
Can testifie that you haue lost, a Ladie kynde in deede.
So gentell, graue, demure and wise: as ye your selues expresse:
That needes ye must gush foorth your Teares: and weepe with bytternesse
In fyne, both Ritche and Poore, haue iust cause giuen to wayle:
The Ritch in Counsell lacke a Frende, the Poore their Comfort fayle.
The Troupe of maryed Dames, whiche shall her Uertues knowe:
Haue offered cause, in bytter Teares, some tyme for to bestowe.
But sith it is the Goddes Decree, to whom all Flesh must bende:
To take this Ladie from the earth, and bringe her dayes to ende.
Who can withholde that they wyll haue? who dare their wyll withstande?
To vayne it were for mortall men, the cause to take in hande
Her Uertues were so great, that they haue thought it meete:
To take from hence vnto the Heauens, her Christall Soule so sweete.
Which now inclosed is, with Aungelles rownde aboute:
Suche hoape we haue, no other cause, is giuen vs for to doubt.
Her Corps shall shrowde in Claye, the Earth her right doth craue:
This Ladie yeldes her Parent too: her Tombe, her Cell and Graue.
From whence, no Kynge nor Keysar can, nor Ruler bearynge swaye:
For all their Force and Puissaunce, once starte or go awaye.
All Fleshe shall haue an ende: as Goddes do graunt and wyll:
And reape rewarde as they deserue, hap good, or hap it yll.
But thoughe that Death haue done his worste, this Dame to take awaye:
In spite of Death, her Uertues shall endure and last for aye.
Aide me wt pitious pearcing plaints, the losse of her to shoe.
Whose Uertues (maugre Death,) shal lyue and last for aye:
As fliyng Fame in Golden Trump, doth cherefully display.
Ye Ladyes leaue your sportes: your Pastymes set asyde
To weepe this Ladies Fatall fine: Cunduictes of streames prouide.
Cast off your costly Silkes: your Iuelles nowe forsake:
To decke your selues in mournynge Weedes, now poastynge haste do make:
Helpe now ye faythfull Wyues, to wayle this faythfull Wyfe:
Whose flowynge Uertues were not hyd, whyle she enioyed lyfe,
As well to Frende as Foe, her Curtesie was knowne:
But now the Goddes haue thought it good, to clayme agayne their owne.
LVCINA hath forgot her Chardge, the fatall Fates haue don:
CLOTHO hath left the Rocke of lyfe: and LACHAS longe hath spon.
These werie of their wonted toyle, at mightie IOVES Decree:
To whom the Heauens, the Earth and Sea: and all thynges Subiect bee.
The Sister dire, fearce ATROPOS, with schortchyng cuttynge Knyfe,
Hath shred the Threede that longe dyd holde, this Godly Ladies lyfe.
Whose losse deare Dames bewayle: and weepe with many a teare:
For you shall misse a Matrone graue, in daunger you to cheare.
Whose Counsell in their neede, her Neighbours could not want:
Her Helpe vnto the Comfortlesse, could neuer yet bee scant.
Unto the poore opprest, with Sickenesse, griefe and payne:
To minister and giue reliefe: her Hart was euer fayne.
The Poore haue lost a Nurse, to helpe their nedie state:
The Ritche shall want a perfecte Frende: as they can well relate.
Thus Ritche and Poore shall want, her Aide at euerie neede,
For both Estates in daunger deepe: she laboured to feede.
The Ritche with Counselles swete, to chearish styll she thought:
The Poore by Almes and lyberall Giftes: to tender longe she sought.
But who shall haue the greatest losse: I knowe is not vnknowen,
Her best beloued: the Wight whom shee, accompted for her owne.
The Lorde MAIOR whiche nowe doth rule: in LONDON noble Citie:
Shall want her sight, (the greater griefe, to misse a Mate so wittie
A Phenyx rare, a Turtell true, so constant in her loue:
That Nature nedes must showe her Force, her Husbandes Teares to moue
Who for the losse of suche a Wyfe: can sobbyng Sighes refrayne?
In whom so many Uertues dyd, continue and remayne.
You Damselles deare Domesticall, whiche in her House abyde:
Haue cause to wayle, for you haue lost a good and godly Guide.
Whose Lenytie and gentell Hart, you all haue knowen and felt:
For vnto you in Courteous sorte, her Giftes she euer dealt.
You Officers that dayly serue, her Lorde at euery neede:
Can testifie that you haue lost, a Ladie kynde in deede.
So gentell, graue, demure and wise: as ye your selues expresse:
That needes ye must gush foorth your Teares: and weepe with bytternesse
In fyne, both Ritche and Poore, haue iust cause giuen to wayle:
The Ritch in Counsell lacke a Frende, the Poore their Comfort fayle.
The Troupe of maryed Dames, whiche shall her Uertues knowe:
Haue offered cause, in bytter Teares, some tyme for to bestowe.
But sith it is the Goddes Decree, to whom all Flesh must bende:
To take this Ladie from the earth, and bringe her dayes to ende.
Who can withholde that they wyll haue? who dare their wyll withstande?
To vayne it were for mortall men, the cause to take in hande
Her Uertues were so great, that they haue thought it meete:
To take from hence vnto the Heauens, her Christall Soule so sweete.
Which now inclosed is, with Aungelles rownde aboute:
Suche hoape we haue, no other cause, is giuen vs for to doubt.
Her Corps shall shrowde in Claye, the Earth her right doth craue:
This Ladie yeldes her Parent too: her Tombe, her Cell and Graue.
From whence, no Kynge nor Keysar can, nor Ruler bearynge swaye:
For all their Force and Puissaunce, once starte or go awaye.
All Fleshe shall haue an ende: as Goddes do graunt and wyll:
And reape rewarde as they deserue, hap good, or hap it yll.
But thoughe that Death haue done his worste, this Dame to take awaye:
In spite of Death, her Uertues shall endure and last for aye.
Farewell (O Ladye Deare) the Heauens haue chosen thee
Receyue this VALE, I haue done: thou gettest no more of mee.
Receyue this VALE, I haue done: thou gettest no more of mee.
Post Funera viuit virtus.
Quoth Iohn Phillip.
| An Epitaph on the death of the vertuous Matrone, the Ladie Maioresse | |