|
| Epicides and Obsequyes |
| Upon the Deaths of Seuerall personages |
|
| To the Countesse of Bedford [161] |
|
Madame
That I might make yor Cabinet my Tombe |
| And for my fame wch. I loue next my soule |
| Next to my soule prouide the happyest roome |
| Admitt to that place this last funerall scroule |
| Others by, testaments* giue Legacyes, but I |
| Dying, of you doe begg a Legacy. |
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| My fortune and my will this custome breake |
| When wee are sencelesse growne to make stones speake |
| Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou |
| In my graues Inside see what thou art now |
| Yet th'art not yet so good; till vs death lay |
| To ripe and mellow there, w'are stubborne clay |
| Parents make vs earth, and soules dignify |
| Vs to bee glasse, heere to grow gold wee lie |
| Whilst in our soules sinne bredd and pamperd is |
| Our soules become worme-eaten carcases, |
| So wee our selues miraculously destroy |
| Heere bodyes, with lesse miracle, enioy |
| Such priuiledge enabled heere to scale |
| Heauen, when the Trumpets Ayre shall them exhale |
| Heare this, and mend thy selfe, and thou mendst mee |
| By making mee, beeing dead doe good to thee |
| And thinke mee well composd that I could now |
| A last sick howre to sillables allow.
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[CW: Man___] |