Here in this Chancel do I lye,
Known by the name of John Treffry.
Being born & made for to die;
So must thou, friend, as well as I.
Therefore good works be sure to try,
But chiefly love & Charity;
And still on them with faith rely,
To be happy eternally.

This was put up during his life, who was a whimsical man. He had his grave dug, & lay down and swore in it, to show the sexton a novelty, i.e., a man swearing in his grave.

On -- Hatt.

By Death’s impartial scythe was mown
Poor Hatt—he lies beneath this stone;
On him misfortune oft did frown,
Yet Hatt ne’er wanted for a crown;
When many years of constant wear
Had made his beaver somewhat bare,
Death saw, and pitying his mishap,
Has given him here a good long nap.

Here I, Thomas Wharton, do lie,
With Lucifer under my head,
And Nelly my wife hard bye,
And Nancy as cold as lead.

O, how can I speak without dread
Who could my sad fortune abide?
With one devil under my head,
And another laid close on each side.

On William Jones, a Bone Collector

Here lie the bones of William Jones,
Who when alive collected bones,
But Death, that grisly bony spectre,
That most amazing bone collector,
Has boned poor Jones so snug and tidy,
That here he lies in bonâ fide.

The late Rev. John Sampson, of Kendal.
Sacrum

In memoriam viri doctissimi et clerici, Joannis Sampson,
olim hujusce sacelli ministri, itemque ludi literarii apud
Congalum triginta septem ferè annos magistri seduli;
hoc marmor ponendum quidam discipulus præceptorem
merens curavit.
Ob: An: ætatis suæ LXXVII; A.D. MDCCCXLIII.
Foris juxta januam e dextrâ introeunti sepultum est
corpus.
Problemata plurima geometrica proposuit ac solvit; ad
hæc accedunt versus haud pauci, latinè et manu suâ
scripti; quorum exemplum infrà insculptum est; adeo
ut Christiano tum mentem, tum viri fidem cognoscere
liceat.

“αὐτòς ἔφη.”

“Quandocunque sophos clarus sua dogmata profert,
“Nil valet αὐτòς ἔφη, ni documenta daret;”
“At mihi cùm Christus loquitur, verum, via, vita,
“Tum vero fateor sufficit αὐτòς ἔφη.”

Epitaph on the Mareschal Comte de Ranzan, a Swede, who accompanied Oxenstiern to Paris, and was taken into the French service by Louis XIII. He died of hydrophobia in 1650. He had been in innumerable battles, had lost an eye and two limbs, and his body was found to be entirely covered with scars.

Stop, passenger! this stone below
Lies half the body of Ranzan:
The other moiety’s scattered far
And wide o’er many a field of war;
For to no land the hero came,
On which he shed not blood and fame.
Mangled or maim’d each meaner part,
One thing remain’d entire—his heart.