Is’t like that lead contains her? ’Twere damnation
050 To think so base a thought: it were too gross
[051] To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she’s immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
055 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
[057] Stamped in gold, but that’s insculp’d upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed