(Though flattering like friends) your treasures are,
Her Fate hath taught[21]: who, when what ever rare
The either Indies boast, lay richly spread
For her to weare, lay on her pillow dead.
Come likewise my Castara and behold,
What blessings ancient prophesie foretold,
Bestow'd on her in death. She past away
So sweetely from the world, as if her clay
Laid onely downe to slumber. Then forbeare
To let on her blest ashes fall a teare.