epitaph on two sisters.
A tender mother, aunt, and friend,
They continued to their end.
HIGH WYCOMBE.
Death is a fisherman; the world we see
A fish-pond is, and we the fishes be;
He sometimes angles, like doth with us play,
And slily take us, one by one away.
IVER.
On William Hawkins.
Once at his death, and twice in wedlocke blest;
Thrice happy in his labour and his rest;
Espoused now to Christ, his head in life,
Being twice a husband, and in death a wife.
On a Lady.
Two happy days assigned are to men—
Of wedlocke and of death. O happy then,
’Mongst women was she who is here interred,
Who lived out two, and, dying, had a third.
On Richard Carter.
An honest man, a friend sincere,
What more can be said? He’s buried here.