On a Mayd Beneath this Stone (which thou must loue,) More beauty lyes then liues aboue. Ere 'foure yeares old shee hence did part When death in enuy of Cupids dart First struck her by Fames truest tongue The childish God was tould as younge Shee was as hee is fain'd, and faire That both together Seene, and paire Of Twins might Seeme, at which hee cryes, Till then hee neuer mist his eyes. Yet if hee had them twere in vaine, For hee would weepe them out againe. Thy teares if thou but pitty hast Thou canst not choose but Shed and wast For if a sin could taint her yeares Tis cleane washt in her Mothers teares page break 3. On the Lady Arabella Stuart How doe I thanke thee death and blesse the howre, That I haue past the guard and Scap't the Tower. That now my Pardon is my Epitaph, And A Small coffin my poore carcass hath. For at thy charge both Soule and Body were, Enlarg'd at once Secu'd from hope and feare, That among Saints; this among Kings is laid And what my Birthright claimes my death hath paid x On the Countesse of Pembrocke B.I. Vnderneath this Sable Herse Lyes the Subiect of all verse. Sidneye s Sister Pembrock s Mother, Death e're thou hast kil'd an other, Faire and learn'd and good as Shee Time will throw a Dart at thee. Marble Piles let no man raise To hir Name, for after dayes Some good Lady kind as Shee Reading this, like Niobe Will turne marble and become, Both her mourner and her Tombe.
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On a Mayd Beneath this Stone (which thou must loue,) More beauty lyes then liues aboue. Ere 'foure yeares old shee hence did part When death in enuy of Cupids dart First struck her by Fames truest tongue The childish God was tould as younge Shee was as hee is fain'd, and faire That both together Seene, and paire Of Twins might Seeme, at which hee cryes, Till then hee neuer mist his eyes. Yet if hee had them twere in vaine, For hee would weepe them out againe. Thy teares if thou but pitty hast Thou canst not choose but Shed and wast For if a sin could taint her yeares Tis cleane washt in her Mothers teares page break 3. On the Lady Arabella Stuart How doe I thanke thee death and blesse the howre, That I haue past the guard and Scap't the Tower. That now my Pardon is my Epitaph, And A Small coffin my poore carcass hath. For at thy charge both Soule and Body were, Enlarg'd at once Secu'd from hope and feare, That among Saints; this among Kings is laid And what my Birthright claimes my death hath paid x On the Countesse of Pembrocke B.I. Vnderneath this Sable Herse Lyes the Subiect of all verse. Sidneye s Sister Pembrock s Mother, Death e're thou hast kil'd an other, Faire and learn'd and good as Shee Time will throw a Dart at thee. Marble Piles let no man raise To hir Name, for after dayes Some good Lady kind as Shee Reading this, like Niobe Will turne marble and become, Both her mourner and her Tombe.
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