Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such read more

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such you seek, try Westminister, and view
Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

Loe here the precious dust is layd;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the read more

Loe here the precious dust is layd;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the guest betray'd.
Else the soule grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shall of sinne
And so was hatch'd a cherubin.

If e'er she knew an evil thought
She spoke no evil word:
Peace to the gentle! She read more

If e'er she knew an evil thought
She spoke no evil word:
Peace to the gentle! She hath sought
The bosom of her Lord.

"Let there be no inscription upon my tomb. Let no man write my
epitaph. No man can write my read more

"Let there be no inscription upon my tomb. Let no man write my
epitaph. No man can write my epitaph. I am here ready to die.
I am not allowed to vindicate my character; and when I am
prevented from vindicating myself, let no man dare calumniate me.
Let my character and motives repose in obscurity and peace, till
other times and other men can do them justice."

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did read more

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did his duty;
But now he's gone aloft.

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
read more

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
Thy Smiles I count not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My days are past, my head lies quiet here.
What faults you saw in me take Care to shun,
Look but at home, enough is to be done.

Here lies who, born a man, a grocer died.
[Fr., Ne homme--mort epicier.]

Here lies who, born a man, a grocer died.
[Fr., Ne homme--mort epicier.]

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
read more

If Paris that brief flight allow,
My humble tomb explore!
It bears: "Eternity, be thou
My refuge!" and no more.