Epitaph On Elizabeth

 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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