Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H.

Wouldst thou hear what man can say

In a little? Reader, stay.

Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die;

Which in life did harbour give

To more virtue than doth live.

If at all she had a fault,

Leave it buried in this vault.

One name was Elizabeth,

Th' other let it sleep with death:

Fitter, where it died to tell,

Than that it liv'd at all. Farewell.