Wouldst thou hear what man can
In a little?
Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbor
To more virtue 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.
