Beneath this stone there lies a scull, Which when it breath’d was wondrous droll; But now ’tis dead and doom’d to rot, This scull’s as wise, pray is it not? As Shakspear’s, Newton’s, Prior’s, Gay’s, The Wits, the sages of their days. * * * * * On John Ellis. Life is certain, Death is sure, Sin’s the wound, and Christ’s the cure. * * * * * On Admiral Blake, Who died in August, 1657. Here lies a man made Spain and Holland shake, Made France to tremble, and the Turks to quake; Thus he tam’d men, but if a lady stood In ’s sight, it rais’d a palsy in his blood; Cupid’s antagonist, who on his life Had fortune as familiar as a wife. A stiff, hard, iron soldier, for he It seems had more of Mars than Mercury; At sea he thunder’d, calm’d each rising wave, And now he’s dead sent thundering to his grave. * * * * * In Parliament, a Burgess Cole was placed, In Westminster the like for many Years, But now with Saints above his Soul is graced, And lives a Burgess with Heav’n’s Royal Peers. HAMPSTEAD. Underneath where as you see, There lies the body of Simon Tree. ST. BENNET, PAUL’S WHARF. Here lies one More, and no More than he, One More, and no More! how can that be? Why one More and no More may well lie here alone, But here lies one More, and that’s More than one. ST. LAWRENCE JEWRY. On William Bird. One charming Bird to Paradise is flown, Yet are we not of comfort quite bereft: Since one of this fair brood is still our own, And still to cheer our drooping souls is left. This stays with us while that his flight doth take, That earth and skies may one sweet concert make. ST. ANDREW’S. On Walter Good. A thing here singular this doth unfold, Name and nature due proportion hold; In real goodness who did live his days, He cannot fail to die well, to his praise. ST. GILES, CRIPPLEGATE. On Gervase Aire. Under this marble fair, Lies the body entomb’d of Gervase Aire: He dyd not of an ague fit, Nor surfeited by too much wit, Methinks this was a wondrous death, That Aire should die for want of breath. ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL. On Sir Henry Croft. Six lines this image shall delineate:— High Croft, high borne, in spirit & in virtue high, Approv’d, belov’d, a Knight, stout Mars his mate, Love’s fire, war’s flame, in heart, head, hand, & eye; Which flame war’s comet, grace, now so refines, That pined in Heaven, in Heaven and Earth it shines. HENDON.