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Epitaph On Elizabeth

by
 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 harbor give To more virture than doth live.
If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth, Th' other let it sleep with death; Fitter, where it died to tell, Than that it lived at all.
Farewell.

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