In th' Churches bosome and the Muses armes.
Speak and tread softly Passengers, and none
With an unhallowed touch pollute this stone
Let sweet-strained Cowley in death's sleep ne're stir
But rest, rest ever in his sepulchre.
BURLESQ;
Here lies, reduc'd to ashes and cinder,
not Sr Paul, but Sr Abraham Pindar.
It is not fierce Horatio Vere,
but Horatio Cowley buried here.