Therefore as one, whose friend is lately dead, I will bewaile the death, of my deere frend; Vppon whose Tombe, ten thousand Teares Ile shead, Till drearie Death, of mee shall make an end: Or if she want a Toombe, to her desart, Oh then, Ile burie her within my hart. But (_Bounty_) if thou loue a Tombe of stone, Oh then seeke out, a hard and stonie hart: For were mine so, yet would it melt with mone, And all because, that I with thee must part. Then, if a stonie hart must thee interr, Goe finde a Step-dame, or a Vsurer. And sith there dies no Wight, of great account, But hath an Epitaph compos'd by mee, _Bounty_, that did all other far surmount, Vpon her Tombe, this Epitaph shall bee: _Here lies the Wight, that Learning did maintaine, And at the last, by_ AVARICE _was slaine_. Vile _Auarice_, why hast thou kildd my Deare? And robd the World, of such a worthy Treasure? In whome no sparke of goodnesse doth appeare, So greedie is thy mind, without all measure, Thy death, from Death did merit to release her: The Murtherers deseru'd to die, not _Caesar_. The Merchants wife; the Tender-hearted Mother That leaues her loue; whose Sonne is prest for warre; (Resting, the one; as woefull as the other;) Hopes met at length, when ended is the iarre, To see her Husband; see her Sonne again; "Were it not then for Hope, the hart were slaine." But I, whose hope is turned to despaire Nere looke to see my dearest Deare againe: Then _Pleasure_ sit thou downe, in _Sorrowes_ Chaire, And (for a while) thy wonted Mirth refraine. _Bounty_ is dead, that whylome was my Treasure, _Bounty_ is dead, my joy and onely pleasure. If _Pythias_ death, of _Damon_ were bewailed; Or _Pillades_ did rue, _Orestes_ ende: If _Hercules_, for _Hylas_ losse were quailed; Or _Theseus_, for _Pyrithous_ Teares did spende: When doe I mourne for _Bounty_, being dead: Who liuing, was my hand, my hart, my head. My hand, to helpe mee, in my greatest need: My hart, to comfort mee, in my distresse: My head, whom onely I obeyd, indeed: If she were such, how can my griefe be lesse? Perhaps my wordes, may pierce the _Parcæ's_ eares; If not with wordes, Ile moue them with my teares. But ah (alas) my Teares are spent in vaine, (For she is dead, and I am left aliue) Teares cannot call, sweet _Bounty_ backe againe; Then why doe I, gainst Fate and Fortune striue? And for her death, thus weepe, lament, and crie; Sith euery mortall wight, is borne to die.