Next to this is a small table monument, on which lie the effigies of William of Windsor, and Blanch of the Tower, the son and daughter of Edward III. They took their surnames from the places of their birth, and both died in their infancy. They are dressed in the habits of the times, the young Prince in a short doublet, of the indecency of which Chaucer’s parson complains, and the Princess in a horned head-dress, which Stow says, was frightful. On another tomb lies the statue of the Lady Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, represented dressed in her robes. She was the daughter of the famous Charles Brandon by Mary the French Queen, daughter to Henry VII. and became Duchess of Suffolk by marrying Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, who, upon her father’s decease, was created Duke of Suffolk. On her tomb are two inscriptions, the first in Latin verse in praise of her virtues, and the other in English, shewing her different marriages. The next is an elegant monument of white marble, erected by John Earl of Clare, to the memory of his son Francis Hollis, a youth of great bravery, who, after returning from making a campaign in Flanders, died on the 12th of August 1622, aged eighteen. He is represented clad in Grecian armour, sitting on a Greek altar. A good author mentioning this statue, says, that it expresses more juvenile sweetness and beauty, than any thing of the kind he ever saw, and that if this figure has any fault in character or design, it is being placed in a languid sedentary posture, tho’ cloathed in armour, and described as a hero in his bloom; a more spirited attitude, he observes, would have been more suitable to the person represented, would have given the statuary greater latitude to exert his genius, and afforded more satisfaction to the spectator. The epitaph on this is as follows: What so thou hast of nature or of arts, Youth, beauty, strength, or what excelling parts Of mind and body, letters, arms, and worth, His eighteen years, beyond his years brought forth; Then stand, and read thyself within this glass, How soon these perish, and thy self may pass; Man’s life is measur’d by the work, not days, No aged sloth, but active youth hath praise.