Epitaphs i 

WOULDST thou hear what Man can say 
In a little? Reader, stay. 
Underneath this stone doth lie 
As much Beauty as could die: 
Which in life did harbour give 
To more Virtue than doth live. 
If at all she had a fault, 
Leave it buried in this vault. 
One name was Elizabeth, 
The other, let it sleep with death: 
Fitter, where it died, to tell 
Than that it lived at all. Farewell.