QUARRINGTON.
To the memory of Thomas Bouchier, dated 1635.
The petterne of conjugale love, the rare
Mirroure of father’s care;
Candid to all, his ev’ry action penn’d
The copy of a frend,
His last words best, a glorious eve (they say)
Foretells a glorious day,
Erected and composed with teares by his pensive
sonne, James Bouchier.
Amongst the ludicrous and eccentric Epitaphs, perhaps one of the worst is that at Gateshead, on Robert Trollop, architect of the Exchange and Town Court of Newcastle:—
“Here lies Robert Trollop,
Who made yon stones roll up:
When death took his soul up,
His body filled this hole up.”
Essex.
BRENTWOOD.
“Here lies Isaac Greentree.”
A man passing through the churchyard wrote as follows:—
There is a time when these green trees shall fall,
And Isaac Greentree rise above them all.