❧ An Epitaph, or funeral inscription, upon the godly life and death of the Right worshipful Master William Lamb Esquire, Founder of the new Conduit in Holborn, etc. Deceased the one and twentieth of April, and intumbed in S. Faith's Church under Powles, the sixth of May next and immediately following. Anno. 1580. Devised by Abraham Fleming.  

ALl flesh is grass, the 
* 〈…〉  Scripture saith, and vadeth like a flower,  
And nothing to be permanent, can vaunt it hath the power.  
The fairest and the foulest thing, that any man can name,  
Hath but a time to live and die, in honour or in shame.  
No artificial workmanship, no notable devise,  
No valiant act, no noble deed, no puissant enterprise,  
But as in time triumphantly, it challengeth renown,  
Even so in time from honours hight, at last it tumbleth down.  
The doubtful state of mortal man, an argument may be,  
That nothing is perpetual, which glancing eye doth see,  
But transitory, frail, and vain, as time demands his fee.  
The Sun & Moon 
* 〈…〉  shall have their change, though gloriously they shine,  
The glistering Stars in firmament, from brightness shall decline,  
The scattered clouds, like winding worm, or scorched parchment scroll,  
Shall shrink together, as in skies they are constrained to roll.  
Then, sith eclestiall creatures state, so alterable is,  
That vain we count each earthly thing, I judge it not amiss.  
We see the seasons of the year, successively ensue,  
First nipping Winters blustering blasts, with frosts as stiff as glue,  
Then pleasant Spring with colours clad, of yellow, green, and blue:  
Next which comes ripening Summer in, and then doth follow fast,  
Quick Harvest for the husbandman, t'acquite his charges past,  
No time hath this prerogative, for evermore to last.  
Lo thus in circle runs the year, with compass round about,  
And his appointed age the world, by portions weareth out.  
Count what we can most excellent, needs must it have an end,  
Against decay there is no force, nor fortress to defend.  
How 
* 〈…〉  many City's stately built, of timber, lime and stone,  
Are come to nought, and in their place a desert left alone?  
Pomp maketh not perpetual, although it bear a port,  
A Maigame I may name it well, a pastime and a sport,  
Whose glory glides and slips away, whose pleasure is but short.  
Like Players in an Interlude, upon a common stage,  
One representing lusty youth, another crooked age,  
One royal Principality, another Courtly state,  
One like a judge doth sit on bench, another begs at gate,  
Thus counterfeit they all degrees, until the play be done:  
Even so is man upon the earth, since first his stock begun.  
For Adam, though he lived long, yet dead he was at last,  
The Patriarches and Prophets old, their pilgrimage have passed:  
Kings have resigned up their crowns, and titles of their thrones,  
And many a politic Governor in grave hath laid his bones,  
This prove the 
* 〈…〉  sundry writings set, on their Sepulchre stones.  
The wisdom of the wise is vain, the strong man's strength a toy,  
If they by them as instruments, seek length of life t'enjoy:  
And as for wealth, it is but wind, for riches have no hold,  
The moneyed man must think to die, if once he waxeth old.  
Lo, lo, a present pattern here, all you that list to learn,  
By viewing of this corpse corrupt, what you shall be discern.  
Sometime he was, as others be, a quick and living man,  
But wounded with the dart of death, revive him nothing can.  
His youthful years, as others have, this good Esquire hath had,  
And crooked age by creeping on, with weakness sick and sad,  
In winding sheet at head and foot, fast knit his corpse hath clad.  
Rich in his life, 
* For I have heard it credibly reported, that he left little or nothing undistributed.  poor at his death, a steward of the Lords,  
His talon Christianly laid out, with God's good will accords.  
And as in th' Acts, Cornelius deeds, bear witness of his faith,  
(For outward works before the world, belief within bewrayeth:)  
So this religious Gentleman, a Patron to the poor,  
In allies and in lanes abroad, at home in th'entry door,  
In open street, in holy Church, in many a corners crook,  
(Where, for the poor and impotent, whom kith and kin forsook,  
With charitable zeal inflamed, this lowly Lamb did look,)  
His alms he hath distributed, and given as he saw need,  
Cloth for the back, meat for the mouth, the hungry soul to feed.  
As loving as a Lamb he lived, and verifide his name,  
He was an eye unto the blind, a leg unto the lame,  
A comfort to the comfortless, a succour to the sick,  
A father to the fatherless, whom nipping need did prick,  
A husband to the desolate, and widow left alone,  
A favourer and a friend to all, an enemy to none.  
Now 
* Poor people shall soon feel the loss of this Lamb by the lack of their relief.  such as had his wool to wear, lament of him the lack,  
His flesh did fill their bellies full, his fleece kept warm their back,  
His pence and pounds preserved them, from many a wring wrack.  
No miss of mercy was in him, for jointly heart and hand,  
Were pliant to supply the wants, of many in this land.  
For this he knew, by giving them, he lent unto the Lord:  
His humbleness no homeliness, of sickly soul abhorred.  
So that I may conclude of him, as needs conclude I must,  
If works may simply of themselves, make righteous men and just,  
(Which I deny, for unto faith this office is assigned:)  
Then is he sanctified from sin, and cleansed in heart and mind.  
The fruits of faith which flourished, in him whiles he did live,  
His diverse distributions, and gifts which he did give,  
The monuments which he hath left, behind him being ded,  
Are signs that 
* For Christ will repay y● a thousand fold, which is given to the succourless.  Christ our Shepherd hath, unto his sheepfold led,  
This loving Lamb, who like a Lamb died meekly in his bed:  
His body buried in the ground, there to consume to dust,  
His soul in Abraham's bosom rests, in quietness I trust:  
A place allotted unto Lamb●, there to possess in peace,  
Such blessings as this Lamb enjoys, whose like the Lord increase,  
For Jesus sake the spotless Lamb. And here my pen shall cease.   

SACRIFIZIO AGNELLO SALVAZIONE MUNDO   

As Evening shadow slides,  
And Seas do vary tides,  
So all the pranking prides,  
Of worldly glory glides:  
God's word, the guide of guides,  
For evermore abides.   
  

❧ Imprinted at London by Henry Denham, for Thomas Turner, and are to be sold at his shop at Guildhall gate.