The Isham MS.
217
EPITAPHIUM.
Weepe with mee all yee that reade,
this little storie,
And knowe for whome these teares you shedd
deaths selfe is sorrie,
It was a childe that so did thriue,
in grace and feature,
That heauen and nature seemde to striue,
whoe owede the creature,
Yeeres he numbred scarce thirteene
when the destenies tumd cruell
Yet three paste zodiacks he had bine
our stages Juell
