Heaven only knowes the Blisse his soul inioyes, Whil’s wee on earth seeke after fading toyes, And doe not mind how saints and angells singe To see him thron’d with his eternall king. WEST WOODHAY. In the old church near Newbury, is the following epitaph to the memory of Sir Ben Rudyerd:— John Grant, in memory of his deare and honoured Master Sir Benjamin Rudyerd, knight, hath affixed this stone over his grave with this epitaph made by Sir Benjamin in his younger years:— Fond world, leave off this foolish trick Of making epitaphs upon the dead; Rather go write them on the quick, Whose soules in earthly flesh lye buried. For in this grave lyes nought of me But my soules grave, two graves well turned to one. Thus do I live, from death made free; Trust me, good friend, I am not dead, but gone To God and Christ, my Saviour alone. 1656. OLD WINDSOR. When this you see remember me As I lay under ground, The world say what it will of me, Speak of me as you have found. ALDWORTH. There is a vulgar tradition that in this place four Johns were buried, and they are described as follows:—John Long, John Strong, John Ever-afraid, and John Never-afraid. They say that John Ever-afraid was afraid to be buried either in the church or out of it, and was consequently buried under the wall, where the arch appears on the outside, by the south church door. * * * * * The following is a copy of an epitaph, now almost obliterated, in Speen Churchyard, and which, admired for its simple pathos, has been handed to us for insertion:— In memory of John Matthews, of Donnington, Berks, 1779. When Heaven with equal eyes our quick’ning dust Shall view, and judge the bad and praise the just, His humble merits may perhaps find room Where kings shall wish, but wish in vain to come. * * * * * In Sunning Hill Churchyard is the following epitaph on the late Right Hon. Colonel Richard Fitzpatrick, written by himself:— Whose turn is next? This monitory stone Replies, vain passenger perhaps thine own; If idly curious, thou wilt seek to know Whose relicks mingle with the dust below, Enough to tell thee, that his destin’d span, On earth he dwelt, and like thyself a man. Nor distant far th’ inevitable day When thou, poor mortal, shalt like him be clay; Through life he walk’d un-emulous of fame, Nor wish’d beyond it to preserve a name. Content, if friendship, o’er his humble bier Dropt but the heart-felt tribute of a tear; Though countless ages should unconscious glide, Nor learn that even he had lived and died. NEWBURY. On Elizth Daughter of James Bond, 1659.