carride even And questionles hee findes them now in heaven For upright justice is the path that bringes Man to the presence of the Kinge of Kinges He â—uilyes Motto every morne did scan None feedes on justice but the upright man He serv'd our Soveraigne James our lawrell Kinge â—â—ke him that did our Israellâ— gloryes sing He Knight-hood gave him for his Zeale Love Truth And dignifi'd him in his prime of youth Honors doe seldome come without desert For time makes vice or Vertue most apert Truth like a Columne does the one support Time Lawier-like does the other court His Love Zeale Goodnes Truth Piety Strong creditors with Soveraignity So pleas'd our glorious King Charles of same For to investe on him a servants name In his new fabrick in which mystery He ended life in great Tranquillity Which â—â—â—bury the house of Lanâ—aster And Iohn of Gauntes shall evermore everâ— Not coveting honour for the Agardes names But it perpetuating to their fames Muse thou art in a Lab'riuth ' an Maze His Vertues questionles thy spirits daze For thou hast lost thy supine major part Th' unbounded boundlesse goodnes of his heart There Vertue kept her seat Apolles line In his contention was not halfe so fine So true refined and so full of grace The Carde'nall Vertues there strove for a place Thrice happy he that liveing loveing dyes When Vertue strives for due preeminencies This Maxime to his age even from his youth He did prefer friendship goes still with truth Reguardlesse of a tâ—â—e friendes small offence True friendship aimes at perfect eminence Those Centryes where thou liv'dst doe blazon forth Thou liveing had'st their harts now dead thy worth Lives still with them that time cannot decay Till all dissolves and time sweepes all away Thou liv'dst in peace and so dide and like thee May all men goe to true Eternitie On the same IF Marble monuments tell to future daies Th'â—habiters good deedes glories honour praise Why should not thine say something since in thee Goodnes rests to perpe 〈…〉 e Thou had'st a schollers knowledge and best parts And liv'dst sole Mâ— of the liberall Arts Thy goodnes needs hoe testate for thy deedes Like a true Gard'ner rooted 〈◊〉 ill weedes Leaving the supple plantes Herbes and Flowers Befiting coronets of vertues bowres No tribulations ever shooke thy brest Patience did evermore support thy creste Resolvde on that ould Sâ—crates did sing Meekenes ' is the greatst Trophe of a King Where power wantes there Eâ—â—y son'st is knowne But where thine lay thy mercy was most showne Thy love charity liberality Were all express'd in true humility The just mans merits by his deudes are sound The bad mans are like waters cast on ground Thy life unspotted was thy end as cleare As Jupiters in his ascendant spheare The Romans when their famous Consulls dide Petitioned their Oracles to divide Their goodnes 'mongst their kindred so may thine By that meanes they will all be made divine Wert not a sin to wish we should desire Aectias Botles againe for to inspire Fresh life 't is said that they are stuff'd with breath But there 's no conqueror comes after death Ould Faussons joy farewell for there thy name Shall last as long as honour time or fame To thy dead Herse thy honourd friend this gives That love is firmest after death still lives On the pattern of modesty ELIZA TEVERY daughter of GERVASE TEVERY of Staplefoord Esquire VVHy did the Lilly Paunce and Violet weepe The Marigold ere Sun-set in did creepe At whose refiexion she us'd for to rise And at his way-gate to close up her eies Why were the beaten waies with flowers strovvne And set with needy Lazars hanging downe Their mournefull heades why did the Pulpit mourne At if prepared for some Funerall urne And yet the Temple was with garlands hung Of sweeâ— smelling Flowers which might belong Vnto some bridall not heaven knowes the cause T' was otherwise decreed in Natures Lawes Those smelling sweetes with which our sense was fed Were for the buriall of a maiden-head Which made an Antumne just in the mid-spring And all things contrary their birthes to bring Herbs Plants and Flowers contrariously grew Because they now receiv'd not natures devv The needy beggers hung their heads for thee Thou matchlesse Map of maiden modesty From whose faire handes they had an almners pay As often as they met thee every day The sacred Temple where thy holy fires Of incense was powr'd on in chast desires Was thus prepard and deek'd on every side To welcome thee as her sole soveraigne Bride Whose goodnes was inimitable whose vertues shone Like to the Sun in his bright Horizon The maiden vestalls that with watry eies Bore thee to 'th Church for Vesta's sacrifize Were all in white carracts of innocence Prefiguring thy greater eminence So great their losse that with watery eiene They offer teares still to thy Virgin shrine And if that teares sighes or praiâ—es could save thee What would not they expresse now to have thee Sacred divinity allowes of no such wish Therefore emparadie'd soule rest thou in blisse Thy neighbours-â—â—d a share in thy great fall But most thy parents in thy funerall Vnparallel'd piece farewell ther 's no Grace But was transparent in thy maiden face And when thy Virgin blushes did appeare They show'd like Phoebus in our hemâ—â—phere Or like the â—ofie blushes of the morne When he th' enameld Zodiacke does adorne Her tender yeeres were free from hatefull pride Nor were her lookes with red-look'd anger dy'd She had with Martha a most zealous hart But did with Mary choose the better part Her losse was piteous yet lesse to be wailde Since she on Cherubins high heaven scalde Where 'mongst the Hierarohies she sits and sings Sweet Hymenealls with the King of Kings On ould JOHN CVRS'EN of KEDLESTON Esquire IOHN CVRSON Anagramma So I runne on IOHN CVRSONE Anagramma Honour is sure Which Anagrammiâ—de thus 't is cleere and pure So hee ranne on His honour now is sure On the same THy childrens losse and countries praise Thou Crowne of age life and long daies In thee a happines still appeares That could'st tell o're so many yeeres Achilles in thy prime of youth Uâ—sses in thy sager grouth Lib rall yet fiugall foe to none Vertues choise companion Enrich'd with all her sacred partes The Muses friend and nurse of Artes. Earth use him gently for his fate Never livde at under-rate The VVorme scarse so much goodnes joy'd Since the great deluge earth annoy'd Gone is the hospitable cloake And where fire was thers now no smoke Then that in â—ll things did'st excell I wish mee with thee so farewell On that renowned and Hospitable Gentleman JOHN PALMER of Kegworth Esquire SMall briefes containe large matters and By some partes the whole we understand Rich Diamonds though set In lead Are not for worth lesse valued Their sparkleing beauties most are seene When night would hide them with a Skreene Though earth hath hid thee in her wombâ— Yet thy great worth lives in thy tombe Thy goodnes was unparalleld Thy charity by noâ—e excelld Thy bounty learning love and name Are Trophes of thy countries same They have more recordes of thee two For thou did'st that none ells did doe The poore man welcome had from thee Before the rich mans bravery He on thy bounteous Table fed And was with all things cherished Nay Palmer-like thou did'st assay To fetch them in from the high way And with thine owne sleece made and spun Cover the lame the blinde and dumbe The Lazar might not starveingly Thou coverdst his necessity The rich might not the poore oppresse The just mans cause thou didst redresse Thy house was made an hospitall And plenty cride ' y are welcome all The stranger might not thirsty passe For there was Tempors full brim'd glasse Prefiguring his thirsty soule Might be refresh'd but not made fowle As Zephyrs bottles such was his minde Sweet calme and free loveing and kinde Great pity Death did in a rage Send Palmer on a pilgrimage Nere to returne for in his losse He Kegworthes sorrow did engrosse And yet he left a merry one Whose worth 's inferiour to none A Patriot of true deserts A nursing father to all arts All men are Palmers Pilgrime meeke He compass'd earth high Heav'n to seeke The Saints receiv'd him into blisse The earth her Palmer still doth misse FINIS Imprimatur Exaedib Londin Sa. Baker Apr. 22. 1636. Hector Boctiuâ— and Aencaâ— Sylvius in their descriptioâ— of the Rivers of Scotland Tay said to bee the most noble River in Angus Iohannes Major Guiccardine 〈◊〉 Gildas in the Expul of the Danes A most pious Princely gift 100. per Annum and confirm'd by Charter The Lord Rich married the Lady Anne daughter of William Earle of Deton shire Not of him that was the Terror of France though all the rest were brothers of his Line A famous Chappell and the Tombe of his noble ancestours by him erected over her in the Parish Church of Wilne in Derby-shire Being his â—â—der brother To the Lady Bur 〈…〉 ut
sooner went to heave'ns felicity I heard him sighing say good God that I Should languish in this vaile of misery Seeing so many able lusty and strong Some powerfull in estates great yet young Some tympani'de with honours potentates Grand Seigneiores governours of states That Midas-like with an Elixar touch Turn'd all to gould they handled quoth he that such As these can dy and leave this vaile of cares And I that loath it languish still in teares Because I cannot leave it love to my God Hath made my soule and body fall at od And from my dying breath I this impart Wishing those ould companions now depart Base fortunes goodes which to their harts men binde He estimated not Vertues of the minde Were his endowments his purchas'd store Gave sustenance and still releiv'd the poore With open hand and hart just like a ashowre Sent in dry Aprill so did he freely powre His bounteons almes like as the free Sunn Gives to all earthly things Vegetation Life and full growth shining alike on all From the lowest brambles to the Cedars tall So did his Charitable hand to all expresse Where just necessity was due cheerefulnes His garments were for warmth not wantonnesse By which he did humility expresse Implying vertue needed no gould lace To guild his russet coate with sacred grace Was his best suite there did he contemplate And in goodnes his soule ingratiate Loathing all vanities beneath the Moone Which are like shadowes after Sun set downe Night stormy tempests dangerous heats that fall Labour greise misery death the fine of all Him he most hated 'cause he dar'd not venter And with his pale dart naile him to the center Bringing him to those Moone eclipsed lights Where day light ever shines excluding nights Where peace and joy perpetually remaine Where death nor age nor any thing is vaine Vertue 's a castle which hardly can be wonne Till Death gives the retrait and cries be gone Or those Erispelas statuous tumours By long consumptions bred purgd ill humours Subjecting natures strong enforced meane Yet then in three things he wishde to be cleane Cleane in th' exterior part cleane in minde His soule assuredly he cleane did finde See what divinity pale weaknes brings Cleane soules delight not in corruptible things But faithles World who shin's most in thy grace Must expiate 't is God and natures race Life like an Autumne leafe shakeing flyes Now on the Tree it growes now falls now dies One minute brings us life that minute paine One minute brings us death that life againe On the right Honorable Hâ—Nâ—Y Pâ—Iâ—POINT Father to the right Honorable ROBERT Earle of Kingston VVHat siere thou be that hap's to cast an eye Vpon this monument Know here doth lie Vertues unparalleld piece goodnes grace Were hand maides to attend him in his face In never dying carracts thou mightst reade How meekenes and humility were displaide His charity I neede not here proclaime The needy handed by truth speake the same In courage Mars in patience Zephyrs winde Botl'd not so much sweetnes calme and kinde Judgements sole ground his tongue did solely speake And since hee s gone best judgments are grown weake Smooth Plato's stile and Cicere's Eloquence Survivde by him in him they did commence For from his lip 's such honnyde stile did come As would make Tully mute strike Rhetorique dumbe Not Aeâ—chilus such wanton laies did sing As he did heavenly sacred ravishing This makes the Muses mourne 'cause he is fled And not their tongues alone but phrase is dead Plato held swarmes of Bees so did not he Yet he from Plato gaind the maistery In his familiar speech now liv'd those Swans That of him sung heavenly Io Paeans Our latter age for Stile Sound Case and Tense Of former times would gaine preeminence Bounty Goodnes Hospitality The poores friend Foe to prodigality Patience neighbour-like Love and all Artes The Card'nall vertues of the inward partes Sweete consolations of all holy mindes Which like to chaines man to heaven bindes All mentall Vertues soveraignes of the soule He had in hart and did in minde en-roule What goodnes man could boast merit or raise In him th' Epitome was well worthy praise And yet he bragd not ostentation And his free thoughts were at disunion Farewell thrice happy Harry happy hee That leaves behinde him such a memorie Then reader when thou read'st and this name heares On this thou canst not looke without soome teares On the worthy Gentleman Sir HENRY Aâ—ARD of Fauston 1635 AS the poore Birde when Summers height resignes Her high Meridian to the â—cy signes VVhich scornefully dart through the watry Clouds To see Earths braveries in witherd shroudes The silly Larke then to salute the day Gets upon wing as though she would assay Some cheerefull notes to sing then beholding Faire Summer spent after the cheerefull spring Downe falls her notes a cherripping she keepes Yet knowes not well whether she sings or weepes She sings in thought of Summer but she cries To thinke of Winters â—ragicke miseries In this extreame all mourne for thy depart That living knew thee though now dead thou art Muse thou hast had much worke but now thy Pen Hath found a subject worth a Diadem Two noble Heuries worthes thou late didst sing This third deserves thy best of sonnetting Sad fate it proves to us when as your eyes From comicke streines sing tragicke Elegies Yet though we cannot contradict the Fates In spight of them we can bewaile our states Methinkes I heare the neighbour habiting groves Where with shrill bugles he did chant their loves In piteous order say who now shall guide Or man our harmelesse heards from being destroyde The brawny Oake growne Ash the Elme and Yewe In this sad season quite have lost their hue Their mountant armes like hunts-men alwaies seene Apparelled in Summers livery greene Looke not like July but Septembers wane When every flowre from Tellus brests are tane Thus every signe contrariously does goe Prefiguring calamity and woe Whence growes the cause why nature had assignd Thy losse deare Agard by them thus divin'd Yet th' art not lost thy one part lives on Earth Thy other in Elizium has new birth For thy unparalleld goodnes needes must stand As a remarkeable mirrour to this Land Let gentiles view their faces there they 'le finde An un-faind purity an up-right minde A conscience never went without a feast A happy burthen for a troubled brest A brow that never frownd upon the poore But where necessity was there went his store His fleece was apt for clothing and his purse Was ever open to the Orphants nurse And since we are dissecting let his ese Stand for a patterne of humility Where he himselfe annua'ly did read Those principals that now last though hee 's dead His hands bore justice scales his countries cause Ev'nly he manadged by her just lawes Not sparing greatnes feareing power or might But scorning favour did to all men right The scales of justice here he
Truthes Epitomy here doth lie On that worthy woman CASSANDRA POVVTRELL of Westhallam THough she be gone her goodnes fame and birth Left not a second paragon on Earth T is said the Phoenix into ashes flies And from her flames another Bird doth rise If our Arabian England can affoard From all her borroughes such another Bird Wee le banish forreigne groves ours their shall shame Of thy great worth Religion breeding fame Where are the Muses are they all asleepe Do they their fathers high holiday keepe Have they forgot their nursing mother's gone Which kept a house as free as Helicon Where every thirsty soule might drinke his fill And make him apt for the Castalian quill True knowledge base ingratitude doth shunne When learning growes ingrate the World is done Others their fame and glories gaine by chance But she did never her great birth advance From others names that worth is profitlesse That comes by chance not by vertuousnesse Hers was inherent given her from above Filld with sanctity piety and love Yet I dare boast and will not be denide Shee could say that few women can beside Great Aunt and Mother to so many Sonnes Earles Lords and Knights Vertues companions Honourd Countesses Ladies of great worth Our Herraldries cannot the like bring forth Greater her honour could so closely hide Her noble birth-right free from thought of pride Yet was contented in a pious life With one sole husband thou his onely wife Thy patience as a Land marke still doth stand To be a president to this whole Land Bless'd with so many children yet to see That they should all claime aprecedencie Of place before thee but 't is natures will Death both the younge and â—uld alike doth kill Our persons he respects not natures pay Is what she lent us life at our just day Her coate like vertues was un-alterable A dy that never staind un-coulourable No mortall saw her change eve'n such her life Even such a Maide a VVidow and a VVife Her garments and her faith both were one Vnchangeable in love life Religion Her charity like to the Queene of heaven To needy beggers every houre was given They knew their martes and where thy well might buy Sustenance for their meere necessity ' I was not extended barely at the doore Where they that ask'd receiv'de but to the poore Her neighbours who sicke in bed ost lay Through hunger starv'd almost cast away For lacke of succor thither still went shee While she could goe and ease their miserie Happy Cassandra Happy thrise I say Thy Almse deedes never can be tane away One part thou hast th' other still we have Bless'd in thy Birth thy Cradle Life Death and Grave She had her servants harts her tenants praise And never raisd a rent in all her dayes Remarkable signe of goodnesse this age wantes such Tho'ther way they multiply too much My Muse wantes not rare matter but a pen To crowne her with a Glorious Diadem But that shee needes not for her sacred parts Have stellifide her 'bove the reach of arts Nay I dare bouldly to the world proclaime Her likewill scarse be found on earth againe Her braine a Chronicle her minde a volume Her Vertues a pillar her goodnesse a columne For great ones for to build on if goodnes rest In any of thy sexe 't was in thy brest Shee did not hoorde it there but freely gave To any one that askt whaâ— they would have True patterne of the blessed so did shee Who 's ever thirsty was might there drinke free Cassandra mournd to see Troyes misery Thy Troy Cassandra now does mourne for thee And yet those honor'd Branches left behinde Will ever imitate thy nobler minde On Mrs. ELIZABETH WOODVVARD Wife of THOMAS WOODVVARD Esquire THy Countries losse and griefe of minde The â—ame mans hands eyes of the blinde The widowes joyes and cure for griefe The Tennants harts-ease and reliefe Thou Growne of women and good dayes The fatherlesse and orphants praise Thou that inspight of death did'st live To praise his name that long did give Thee being think st thou that thy name Though dead is gone no 't is the same It was and ne 〈…〉 shall wa st away Till all dissolves and Time decay Thou mappe of women and good name Sleepe on with Time rest still with fame Thou which most Scriptures hadâ—st by hart Now hast it for thy better part Marble empounded converts to dust Thy memory can never rust Who ' ere thou be that vewes this herse And with a sad eye reads this herse Know underneath this clod doth ly Eliza of bless'd memory Zealous in life happy in daies Worth all mens loves and Angells praise On Sir HENRY SHERLEY of STAVNTON Baronnet buried at Breedon in Leicester shire VVHy who would thinke it say the passers by That underneath this Marbled stone should ly So rich a treasurie can so small Earth Containe a spirit of so great a birth Can such a slender hill keepe in command Him that could tread o're leagues of his own Land Can honour and worship thus be undertrod And throwne as reliques under a poore clod Weake is the greatest Prince and cannot stand The angry darts of deaths commanding hand For he that treades o're Kingdomes of his owne In some few feet of Earth must be trod downe And therefore Sherley 't was in vaine for thee T' oppose the mastâ—r of a monarchie Let it suffize thy goodnes shall out-live All those inveteracies the world can give Thy love thy learning goodnes merit fame Shall as preservatives live in the name Of thy posterity and may they shine In Saint-like goodnes farre transcending thine That to their fathers name they may gaine praise And centuple their honord mothers dares Thus passenger when thou reflects thine eies Vpon this hill know that here under lies Thrice noble Harrie but all teares are vaine Hee s seated higher then we yet can gaine Waile thou his losse but still say Death is just For Sherley is what all the World once must On that much lamented gentleman Sir HENRY LEIGH of Egginton VVHy droope you Muses have you solely cause To blame the destinies whose fatall lawes Have wrought privation from us tane away Vertues Map like the Meridian day In up-right goodnes I must confesse Great are your griefes mine greater and not lesse Rivers lose course when trilling springs grow dry Life must decay when all our vitalls dy Yet though our bodies fall and spirits passe Our vertues live transparent in the glasse Of our lives steeradge though our losse be great Lend me your aides solemnly to entreat Of your deere losse and mine mine is asmuch And has like Marble a true Nâ—obes touch Three things there are indivisibly plast Which still in order stand first mid'st and last These he was all his parentage goodnes bred A midst he was nobly educated Lastly he was most zealous to his God With lambe-like patience he did beare his rod. Attributing Time tardy 'cause that he No