Epitaphs. Epitaph on Himselfe

To the Countesse of Bedford.

MADAME,

THAT I might make your Cabinet my tombe,

And for my fame which I love next my soule,

Next to my soule provide the happiest roome,

Admit to that place this last funerall Scrowle.
5Others by Wills give Legacies, but I
Dying, of you doe beg a Legacie.

My fortune and my will this custome breake,

When we are senselesse grown to make stones speak,

Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou

10In my graves inside see what thou art now:

Yet th'art not yet so good; till us death lay

To ripe and mellow there, w'are stubborne clay,

Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie

Vs to be glasse, here to grow gold we lie;

15Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pampered is,

Our soules become worme-eaten Carkasses.

Epitaph. B, D, H40, H49

On himselfe. 1635-69

To the Countesse of Bedford. O'F, S96: no heading, and epistle only, A25, C The introductory epistle, and the first ten lines of the epitaph, the whole with heading Elegie., is printed 1635-54 among the Funerall Elegies. The full epitaph without epistle and with heading On himselfe. is included among the Divine Poems, where it follows the Lamentations of Jeremy. In his note Chambers (II. 234) reverses these facts. In 1669 On himselfe. is transferred to the Funerall Elegies and is followed immediately by the Elegie, i.e. the epistle and incomplete epitaph. They are here given for the first time in a separate group

5 Others by Wills 1635-69: Others by testaments A25, C, O'F (altered to wills), S96: Men by testament B: Then by testament H40: O then by testament D, H49

10 now: 1650-69: now, 1635-39

12 there, 1635, 1669: thee, 1639-54

Omnibus.

MY Fortune and my choice this custome break,

When we are speechlesse grown, to make stones speak,

Though no stone tell thee what I was, yet thou

In my graves inside seest what thou art now:

5Yet thou'art not yet so good, till death us lay

To ripe and mellow here, we are stubborne Clay.

Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie

Vs to be glasse; here to grow gold we lie.

Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pamper'd is,

10Our soules become wormeaten carkases;

So we our selves miraculously destroy.

Here bodies with lesse miracle enjoy

Such priviledges, enabled here to scale

Heaven, when the Trumpets ayre shall them exhale.

15Heare this, and mend thy selfe, and thou mendst me,

By making me being dead, doe good to thee,

And thinke me well compos'd, that I could now
A last-sicke houre to syllables allow.

Omnibus. D, H49: To all. H40, RP31: Another on the same. (i.e. Mrs Boulstred) P: On himselfe. 1635-69: no title, B, S96: in MSS. this complete epitaph follows the epistle (p. 291); but in B they are separated by various poems and in P the epistle is not given

3 tell] tel 1635

4 seest] see D, H49: compare incomplete version.

5 Yet 1635-69: Nay S96

thou'art Ed: thou art 1635-69

8 lie. Ed: lie; 1635-69

14 them] then 1669

16 to thee, B, D, H40, H49, O'F, S96: for thee, 1635-69

Note