TITCHFIELD, HANTS.

The husband speaking truly of his wife,
Reads his loss in her death, her praise in life.

Died July 4th, 1618, aged 70.

HERE LUCIE QUIMBIE BROMFIELD buried lies,
With neighbours sad, weeping hearts, sighs, eyes,
Children eleven, ten living, me she brought;
More kind, true, chaste, was none in deed or thought,
House, children, state by her was ruled, bred, thrives
One of the best of maids, women, wives.

Now gone to God, her heart sent long before
In fasting, prayer, faith, hope and alms deeds store.
any fault she loved me too much,

If

Ah pardon that, for there are too few such.
Then, Reader, if thou not hard hearted be,
Praise God for her, but sigh and pray for me.
Here by her dead, I dead desire to lie,
Till rais'd to life, we meet no more to die.

LES SAINTS INNOCENTS, PARIS.

I, NICOLAS LE FEVRE,

A most singular sinner, lies here.
What can be said truer of me,

'Or what better by me, I know not.

'I confess, sweet JESUS; and, O! do thou pardon! For this wert thou born, and for this didst thou

suffer,

That we might be saved by thee.

He lived 68 years, 4 months, and 3 days.

Died in the year 1612,'

ST. GENEVIEVE, AT PARIS.

Is an Inscription to the Memory of
MARIA MARTINOZZI,

PRINCESSE DE CONTI,

WHO, retiring from the world in the nineteenth year of her age, sold all her jewels, for the support of the poor of the provinces of BERRI, CHAMPAGNE, and PICARDY, during the famine in the year 1662: practised all the austerities her constitution would bear; remained a widow from the twenty-ninth year of her age, in order to bestow a christian and virtuous education on the princes, her sons, and to maintain justice and religion through all her estates; confined herself to a very moderate expence; restored all the effects, the acquisition of which seemed doubtful to her, to the value of 800,000 livres; distributed all the overplus of her fortune to the needy in her own lands, and all other parts of the world; and suddenly passed from life to eternity, after sixteen years perseverance, in Feb. 1672, in the 36th year of her age.

Pray for her.

LOUIS ARMAND DE BOURBON, PRINCE DE CONTI, and FRANCIS LOUIS DE BOURBON, PRINCE OF ROCHE SUR GONNE, her children, have erected this

monument.

IN WALES.

O rare!

King-What are you there?

Yes mortal, here I lay in silent rest,

From sorrow free, no cares disturb my breast.

ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.

ON SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM,

Who died April 6th, 1590.

S HALL honour, fame, and titles of renown, In clods of clay be thus inclosed still? Rather will I, tho' wiser wits may frown, For to enlarge his fame extend my skill. Right, gentle reader, be it known to thee, A famous knight doth here interred lie, Noble by birth, renown'd by policie, Confounding foes which wrought our jeopardie. In foreign countries their intents he knew, Such was his zeal to do his country good, When dangers would by enemies ensue, As well as they themselves he understood. Launch fourth, ye Muses, into streams of praise, Sing and sound forth praise-worthy harmony; In ENGLAND death cut off his dismal days, Not wrong'd by death, but by false treachery: Grudge not at this imperfect epitaph, Herein I have exprest my simple skill, As the first-fruits proceeding from a graff, Make them a better whosoever will.

ON A GLUTTON.

AT length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er,
I've eat sufficient, and I'll drink no more;
My night is come, I've spent a jovial day,
'Tis time to part, but oh-what is to pay!

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

ON LADY CECIL,

Who died in Child-bed, in the Year 1591.

A BROOKE by name, the BARON COBHAM's childe,
A NEWTON was she by her mother's side,
CECIL her husbande this for her did builde,
To prove his love did after death abide;
Which tells unto the worldes that after come
The worldes concepte whileste heare she helde a

roome.

How nature made her wise, and wel beseeminge,
Witt, and condition, silente, trew, and chaste,
Her vertues rare, wanne her much esteeminge,

In courte with soveraigne still with favoure grate, Earth could not yealde more pleasinge earthye blisse, Blest with two babes, the thirde brought her to this.

ON RICHARD WOOD.

FAREWELL you world: I tak leve for ever;
I am cityd to appere I no not where,

Yen al yis world yis tym I lever,

A litl spase to mak a sith for fere
Of my trespace, broken is for sorrow
Myn hart, now be, that sal not be tomorrow.
Farewel frendys, ye tide bidyth no man,

I am tak fro hens, and so sal ye;
But to what passage tel you I ne can,
Ye yat be livyng may prey well ye be,

Nakyd I go, nakyd hider we cam
Prey ye for me, Requiem æsternam.

CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL.

ON PRINCE EDWARD,

Eldest Son of King Edward III.
WHOSO thou be that passest by,
Where these corpse interred lie,
Understand what I shall say,
As at this time speak I may :
Such as thou art sometime was I,
Such as I am, such shalt thou be.
I little thought on the hour of death,
So long as I enjoyed breath.
Great riches here I did possess,
Whereof I made great nobleness:
I had gold, silver, wardrobes, and
Great treasures, horses, houses, land.
But now a caitiff poor am I,
Deep in the ground, lo! here I lie:
My beauty great is all quite gone,
My flesh is wasted to the bone.

My house is narrow now and throng,
Nothing but truth comes from my tongue.
And, if
ye should see me this day,

I do not think, but ye would say,
That I had never been a man,

So much altered now I am.

For God's sake pray to the heavenly King,

That he my soul to heaven would bring.
All they that pray and make accord
For me, unto my God and Lord,
God place them in his paradise,
Wherein no wretched caitiff lies.