Expicedium. A FUNERAL Oration, upon the death of the late deceased Princess of famous memory, Elizabeth by the grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland.  
Written: by Infelice Academico Ignoto.  
Whereunto is added, the true order of her highness Imperial Funeral.  
LONDON Printed for E. White, dwelling near the little north door of Paul's Church, at the sign of the Gun. 1603.   

Epicedium. A Funeral Oration upon the death of the late deceased Princess, (of famous memory) Elizabeth by the grace of God Queen of England, France and Ireland: written by Infelice Academico Ignoto.  
IF the sighs of the heart were converted into eloquence of the tongue (as in the instruments of breath, the spirit is exchanged into souned) I would desire (right worthy Auditory) that all those sighs which are assembled together in your breasts, might be centred in my heart: to the end that my defect of eloquence to express this fatal accident, might be supplied by my increased sorrows, so happily converted into discourse. But since this my conceited desires may not be reduced to act, my wish were that this flood of tears, that makes his channel through our eyes, might like a river of fit discourse, flow from out my lips; to the end that the forecible weight of the same being inritched by these supplies, might plant amazement in your ears, to hear the flowing eloquence of my tongue; and the boundless number of her praises. But why spend I my breath in wishes? or to what end fashion I my desires to be greater than my power? since your reverent silence that attendeth my discourse is sufficient to give worth to the weakness of my performance, and her virtues work wonder in the meanest Orator. But because a good life maketh only the grave happy, and the glory that is derived to after ages, dependeth on the actions of forepassed years: Let us discourse a while on that elizabeth's life, whose death we lament with such hearty complaints.  
She was borne of a father of famous memory, Henry the eight, derived from a mother of great virtue, Anne Bullem; and descended so royally, and from so mighty Princes, that Europe knew not her equal, either in birth, beauty, or perfection: Greater then Alexander she was, for the world which he subdued by force, she conquered by love; her beauty was so great, that it rather was envied then equalled; beloved then praised, admired then described. Her power so great that whole kingdoms were affrighted at her name, and many rich countries made happy by her protection; her learning so admirable that as from east and west many nations resorted to Rome: not for any wonder they expected in the City, but only to behold Livy: So many from all parts repaired to her kingdom, where either they were enchanted with beauty, amazed at her greatness, enriched by her bounty, confirmed by her wisdom, or confounded in their judgements. Her chastity so great, that the question is whether the conquest of her enemies wrought her more fame, or the continence and government she had in herself, more merit: In a word, she enjoyed so much grace, as all the graces possessed not together; and he that had the grace to see her grace accounted it his happiness to be so graced.  
The desires her beauty kindled, her modesty quenched; the attempts which ambition intended, her constancy overcame: The peace which all kingdoms affected, her policy effected: and her state which her greatest foes envied, her wisdom maintained: her country was the fostress of banished men: the sanctuary of the distressed: the harbour of the wronged, the enricher of her allies the bane of her enemies: in aword, the world had nothing more praiseworthy in it, then that it knew her. I will not rip up the rare perfections of her youth, neither her fatal danger before her coming to the Crown, nor her sundry good fortunes in the government of her kingdom, nor the continuance of her peace, nor the prosperity of her wars, lest the memory of these things added to her loss, should make our sorrows stronger than our sufferance could admit of. But for my own part I may say this of her, that if this Sovereign Princess had died among those ancient Thracians, who wept at the birth of their children, and sung and feasted at their deaths: they would have changed their custom, and bewailed her infinitely. For by her death, alas what misery are we not acquainted with? we lost that head whereof we be the members; the governess of our fortunes and felicity, the life of all our peace, the death of all our joy.  
Since her departure, Justice scale is distempered, prudence mirror is dimmed, strength's pillars are shaken, Temperance vessel is emptied the Olive (that peace bare) is leafless, the oil of mercy is wasted, liberalities hands are closed; the head of magnificence droopeth, pity hath her smiles changed, the laws are silent, and pardon tongueless. Alas what should I say? if Petrarch knew not in what Sphere of Planets to lodge his Lawra, how should I guess in what order of Angels I should plant our Elizabeth? dead she is, but so dead as she is pitied by death himself; who being senseless and passionless towards all other creatures, yet hath afforded her this privilege, to live in our sorrows. And to give her place in heaven, what mortal apprehension dare presume▪ since in earth our best hopes are wrapped in fear and trembling, and no man can beget that being for another which he cannot assuredly hope for himself? what she was whilst she lived, we judge, but by the outside, the sense must inform the intellect before he can determine: what she is, for the earth we know, for the soul we leave it with the Platonists, to infinity; wherein, God that knoweth best of truth can inform truth. When Pelopidas the Theban, after he had manfully combated against Alexander Pheraeus, was unfortunately and mortally wounded; the report is that the Thessalians that were present at that battle, never laid aside their armour nor drew the rain from their horses, neither tied up their wounds, until they had lamented him, armed and heat in the conflict, they ran to comfort him; half breathless they clipped their horses manes, they shaved themselves: if cold made them chill, the fire of their zeal would not suffer them to kindle fire in their tents: their sorrows shut up their stomachs from receiving meat: silence and mourning possessed the whole army. And they that had gotten a victory over fame by their conquest, by the loss of their general, became slaves to their affections; when the cities heard of his loss, the magistrate and mean men, the Prince and Plebeian came out to meet him: they fixed Crowns on his Hearse, cast flowers on his coarse, & strove how to honour him being dead, that had so faithfully fought for them in life: yea his enemies contended with the conqueror for Funeral, thinking it a blessing to enjoy his bones, whose valour had restrained their ambition. If for Pelopidas the warrior, the greeks were so passionate, what should we be in the loss of Elizabeth our peacemaker and Princess, whose perfections are entombed in her enemy's tears: whose loss hath made the mighty weak, the prudent diffident, the rich suspicions, the poor amazed, and all sorts hards? Pelopidas virtues were only the objects of Greece, Elizabeth's the wonders of the world: he only a subduer of a City or province, she the terror of many kingdoms: he only wonderful in an Angle, She famous in the world's fair Anglia.  
But alas, why talk I of death in so divine a subject? she lives as yet in the hearts of her grateful subjects, because they might not die with her; living, they keep her alive in their loving hearts, the memory of her death in their tears, her name in their tongues, her words in their ears, her lively Image in their lasting imaginations: her mightiness in her is an admirable miracle, where nobility in the vicious is a grievous infamy.  
here like a true joseph hath she lost this cloak of mortality, to obtain an immortal Crown of glory, and to escape the embracements of the lewd world. How happily hath she cast off the prison of her mortality? how happy is she by death, that is delivered from the troubles of life? The enamoured Thisbe to fly from the jaws of a hungry Lioness, cast off her veil that shadowed her shoulders; so this beloved of Christ, to escape that Lion of perdition, that raging wandereth to seek whom he may devour, hath disburdened herself of her earthly ornaments, hath choked the ravenous enemy of mankind, by casting her earth in his teeth: Happy happy Elizabeth, that hath forsaken the Babylon of this world, to obtain her Country the heavenvly Paradise.  
The Moon (as the Philosophers write) is eclipsed by the shadow of the earth, and nothing more obscureth the soul than this prison of the body. Since therefore our Elizabeth hath cast off her earthly veil to get a heavenly Privilege; let us moderate our passions by imagining her felicity, since what she lost was not in her possession to keep; and what she hath, is a greater purchase than conjecture can apprehend.  
The generous young man Crates, forsook his possessions to buy an heritage in philosophy. Diogenes left his Country and house. Democritus lost his eyes, to apprehend knowledge. How far better a match hath our Sovereign made, that for her possessions in earth, hath got the Paradise in heaven? that for her earthly prison, hath attained a heavenly mansion? that for her eyes that beheld the vanities on earth, hath gotten the means to behold the paradise of heaven? Plato in his law, interdicted the use of lamentation in Funerals, neither thought he it requisite to lament publicly, or convey the Coarse to his Tomb with tears and sorrowful exclamations, because (as the Philosophers say) tears yield no remedy in tribulation. But had Plato lived to behold these times, and considered the blessings we possessed whilst she lived; how carefully she guided the helm of commonweal, and faithfully defenced her Country from novations; how providently she forestalled the audacious designs of her enemies; how constannly she withstood her greatest dangers; he would doubtless have remitted a great part of his austerity, and saluted her Hearse with some lamentable Elegy.  
There is a Lake (as Aristotle reporteth) near unto the river of Eridanus, wherein (if any Poet's fiction may bear credit of faith) proud Phaeton being strooken with lightning, was finally drowned. The water of this Lake is in quality hot, in odour grievous, fearful in beholding. Hereof no creature drinketh, but he dieth: heer-over no bird flieth, but he is drowned. Of the nature of this river, is her loss we lament for: The proudest enemy that beholdeth it is drowned in confusion: The tears that are wept on it, blind the eyes with their scalding.  
The odours that perfume her Hearse, are of the nature of vapours drawn up by the Sun, which ascend in fume but descend in showers. He that beholdeth this Hearse, how can he choose but fear, since over it he may meditate on the uncertainties of life? what brutish or savage nature, beholding this sight and feeding his eyes on her Monument, but will die with sorrow? or what soul hovering in the air over this disconsolate Hearse, dissolveth not into tears? (if exempted souls may be subject to passions.)  
I am amazed and can no more, and your judgements shall require no further discourse at my hands: the reason is, because others glories may be expressed in words and writings, whereas hers cannot be aptly described but in wonder and silence. I will therefore supply with my tears, what I fail in my words: & if any ask why I end so abruptly: let the Poet answer who can truly judge of passion, Curae leues loquntur ingentes stupent.   

A true subjects sorrow, for the loss of his late Sovereign.  

I join not hands with sorrow for a while,  
To sooth the time, or please the hungry cares:  
Nor do enforce my mercenary style,  
No feigned livery my Invention wears.   

Nor do I ground my fabulous discourse  
On what before hath usually been seen:  
My grief doth flow from a more plenteous source,  
From her that died a virgin and a Queen.   

You Crystal Nymphs that haunt the banks of Thames,  
Tune your sad Timbrils in this woeful day:  
And force the swift winds and the sliding streams  
To stand a while and listen to your Lay.   

Your fading Temples bound about with view,  
At every step your hands devoutly wring,  
Let one notes fall another's height renew,  
And with compassion your sad Naenia sing.   

Graces and Muses wait upon her Hearse:  
Three are the first, the last the sacred Nine:  
The sad'st of which, in a black tragic verse,  
Shall sing the Requiem passing to her shrine.   

An Ebon Chariot to support the Beer,  
Drawn with the black steeds of the gloomy night:  
Stooping their stiff Crests, with a heavy cheer,  
Stirring compassion in the people's sight.   

The Pyle prepared where on her body lies,  
In Cypress shadows sit you down forlorn:  
Whose bows be dewed with plenty of your eyes,  
(For her with grief) the Branches shall adorn.   

Let fall your eyelids like the Suns clear set,  
When your pale hands put to the vestal flame:  
And from your breasts, your sorrows freely let,  
Crying one Beta and Eliza's name.   

Upon the Altar, place your Virgin spoils,  
And one by one with comeliness bestow:  
Diana's buskins and her hunting toils,  
Her empty quiver and her stringles bow.   

Let every Virgin offer up a tear,  
The richest Incense nature can allow:  
And at her tomb (for ever year by year)  
Pay the oblation of a maiden vow.   

And the truest vestal the most sacred liver,  
That ever harboured an unspotted spirit,  
Retain thy virtues, and thy name for ever,  
To tell the world thy beauty and thy merit.   

where's Collen Clout, or Rowland now become,  
That wont to lead our Shepherds in a ring?  
(Ah me) the first, pale death hath strooken dumb,  
The latter, none encourageth to sing.   

But I unskilful, a poor shepherds Lad,  
That the high knowledge only do adore:  
Would offer more, if I more plenty had,  
But coming short, of their abundant store,   

A willing heart that on thy fame could dwell,  
Thus bids Eliza happily farewell.   
FINIS.   

THE True Order and formal proceeding at the Funeral of the most high, renowned, famous and mighty Princess, Elizabeth of England, France & Irealnd, late Queen: from Whitehall to the Cathedral Church of Westminster. The 28. day of April. 1603.  
BEfore thou read, prepare thine eyes to weep,  
If that thine eyes contain one liquid tear:  
Or if thou canst not mourn, fall dead in sleep,  
For nought but death such sorrow can outwear.  
'twill grieve hereafter souls as yet unborn,  
That one soul's loss, did make so many morn.  
Did make so many mourn? oh heavy time  
That brought a Period to her happy life.  
But cruel death, the fatal stroke was thine,  
Her loss is ours, heaven thereby gains a wife.  
Yet had not sin been hug'd in th' arms of Pride,  
England had smiled, and heaven had lost a Bride.  
But now, oh now, our mourning weeds are on,  
And many thousand blacks for her are worn:  
Which do demonstrat that Eliza's gone,  
For whose untimely loss so many morn.  
What these sad mourners are, good reader see:  
And seeing read, and reading, weep with me.  

Queen Elizabeth's Funeral.  
These persons hereafter named, came in their place and order as was appointed. Also the names of such Noblemen & Gentlemen, as carried the Standards & other Ornaments at the Funeral.  

First, Knight Marshals men to make room.  
Then followed 15. poor men.  
Next, 260. poor women. four and four in a rank.  
Then, Servants of Gentlemen, Esquires, & Knights.  
Two Porters.  
Four Trumpeters.   

Rose, pursuivant at Arms.  
Two Sergeants at Arms.  
The Standard of the Dragon. borne, by the worshipful sir George Boucher.  
Two Querries leading a horse covered in black cloth.  
Messengers of the Chamber.  
Children, Of the Almondry.  
Children of the Woodyard.  
Children of the Scullery.  
Children and Furners of the Pastry, Scalding house, and Larder.  
Then followed Grooms, being: 

Wheat-porters.  
Cooper's.  
Wine-porters.  
Conducts in the Bakehouse.  
bell-ringer.  
Maker of spice-bags  
Cart-takers, chosen by the board.  
Long Carts.  
Cart-takers.  
Of the Almonry.  
Of the Stable,  
Woodyard.  
Scullery.  
Pastry.  
Scalding-house.  
Poultry.  
Caterye.  
boiling-housing.  
Larder.  
kitchen.  
Lawndrie.  
Ewerie.  
Confectionary.  
Waferie.  
Chaundrye.  
Pitcher-house.    
Grooms. 

Buttery.  
Seller.  
Pantrye.  
Bakehouse.  
Countinghouse.    
Then, noblemen's and Ambassadors servants. and, Grooms of the Chamber.  
Four Trumpeters.   

Blewemantle.  
A Sergeant at Arms.  
The Standard of the Greyhound borne by Master Herbert, brother to the Earl of Pembroke.  
Yeomen: being 

Servitors in the Hall.  
Cart-takers.  
Porters.  
Almonrye.  
Herbengers.  
Woodyard.  
Scullery.  
Pastrye.  
Poultry & Scalding-house.  
Purveyors of the Poultry.  
Purveyors of the Acatrie.    
Yeomen. 

Stable.  
boiling-housing.  
Larder.  
kitchen.  
Ewerye.  
Confectionarye.  
Waferye.  
Purueyer of the Wax.  
Tallow-Chandler.  
Chaundrye.  
Pitcher-house.  
Brewers.  
Butterye.  
Purveyors.  
Seller.  
Pantrye.  
Garneter.  
Bakehouse.  
Countinghouse.  
Spicerye.  
Chamber.  
Robes.  
Wardrobe.  
Earls and Countesses servants.    
Four Trumpeters.   

Portcullis.  
A Sergeant at Arms.  
Standard of the Lion, borne by M. Thomas Somerset.  
Two Querries leading a horse trapped with black velvet.  
Sergeant of the Vestry.  
Gentlemen of the Chapel in Copes, having the Children of the Chapel in the middle of their company, in surplices, all of them singing.  
Clerks. 

Deputy Clerk of the market.  
Clerks extraordinary.  
Cofferer.  
Diet.  
M. Cook for the household.  
Pastry.  
Larder.  
Scullerye.  
Woodyard.  
Poultry.  
Bakehouse.  
Acatrie.  
Stable.    
Sergeants. 

Gent▪ Harbinger.  
Woodyard.  
Scullerye.  
Pastrye.  
Caterye.  
Larder.  
Ewerie.  
Seller.    
Sergeants. 

pantry.  
Bakehouse.    
M. Cook of the kitchen.  
Clerks of the Equerrie.  
Second clerk of the Chaundry.  
Third Clark of the Chaundry.  
Second Clark of the kitchen.  
Third Clark of the kitchen.  
Super-visors of the Dresser.  
Surveyor of the Dresser for the Chamber.  
musicans.  
Apothicaries.  
Chirurgeons.  
Sewers of the Hall.  
Martial of the Hall.  
Sewers of the Chamber.  
Groom-Porter.  
Gent. Ushers quarter waiters  
Clerk.  
Martial.  
avener.  
Chief Clerk of the wardrobe  
Chief Clerk of the kitchen.  
Two Clerks Controllers.  
Clerks of the Green-cloth.  
M. of the Household.  
Sir Henry Cock Cofferer.   

Rogue Dragon.  
The Banner of Chester, borne by the Lord Zouch, between two Sergeants at Arms.  
Clerks of the Counsel.  
Clerks of the privy Seal.  
Clerks of the Signet.  
Clerks of the Parliament.  
Doctors of Physic.  
Q Chaplains.  
Secretaries, for the Latin, & French tongues.   

Rouge-Crosse.  
The Banner of Cornwall, borne by the Lord Herbert (eldest son to the Earl of Worcester) between two Sergeants at Arms.  
Chief Officers to the Lord Mayor of London.  
Aldermen of London.  
Solicitor.  
Attorney.  
Sergeants at Law.  
M. of the Revels.  
M. of the Tents.  
Knights, bachelors.  
Lord chief Baron.  
Lord Chief justice, of the Common Pleas.  
M. of the jewell-house.  
Knights, which have been Ambassadors.  
Gentlemen Agents.  
Sewers for the Queen.  
Sewers for the body.  
Esquires of the body.  
Gent. of the privy Chamber.  
Gentlemen pensioners, holding their Pole-axes heads downwards, covered all with black.   
here Reader stay: & if thou ask me why.  
'tis to entreat thee bear them company.  
But if th' high spirit cannot weep so low,  
Weep with these flowers of honour that drooping go.  

Lancaster.  
The Banner of Wales, borne by Viscount Bindon.  
Lord Mayor of London. 

Sir john Popham.  
Sir john Fortescue.  
Sir Robert Cicill, Principal Secretary.  
Controller of the household.  
Treasurer of the household.  
Masters of Requests.  
Agents for Venice and for the Estates.     

Windsor.  
The Banner of Ireland, borne by the Earl of Clanricard.  
Barons.  
Bishops.  
Earls eldest sons.  
Viscounts.  
Duke's second sons.  
Earls.  
Marquesses.  
Bishop of Chichister, Almoner, and Preacher at the Funeral.  
Lord Keeper.  
Archbishop of Canterbury.  
French Ambassador.  
Four Sergeants at Arms.  
The great embroidered Banner of England, borne by the Earl of Pembroke, assisted by the Lord Howard of Effingham.   

Somerset & Richmond.  
York, helm & Crest.  
Chester, Target.  
Norrey, K. at Arms. Sword.  
Clarenciaux, K. at Arms. Coat.   
Art thou yet dry, as if thou hadst not wept?  
Read further then, and thou wilt force a tear.  
But hadst thou scone her figure as she slept,  
In memory, thou wouldst her semblance bear.  
Whose dear remembrance would so touch thy mind,  
That in thy passion thou no mean couldst find.  
The lively picture of her majesties whole body in her Parliament robes with a Crown on her head, and a Sceptre in her hand, lying on the corpses enshrined in lead, and balmed covered with Purple-veluet: borne in a Chariot drawn by four Horses trapped in Blacke-veluet.  

Gentlemen Ushers, with white rods.  
A Canopy over the Corpses, borne by 6 Knights.  
Six Earls, assistants unto the body.  
On Each side the Corpses, 6. Banerols, carried by 12. Noblemen.  
Footmen.  
The Earl of Worcester master of the horse, leading the Palfrey of Honour.  
Two esquires and a groom to attend & lead him a way.  
Gentleman usher of the privy Chamber.   

Garter K. at Arms.  
The Lady Marquis of Northhampton, Chief mourner: assisted by the Lord Treasurer & the Lord Admiral: her train carried up by two Countesses, and Sir john Stanhop, master Vicechamberlaine.  
Two Earls assistants to her.  
14. Countess' assistants.  
Countesses.  
Ladies of honour.  
Viscountesses.  
Earl's daughters.  
Baronesses.  
Maids of honour of the privy Chamber.  
Captain of the Guard, with all the Guard following, five, & five in a rank, holding their Halberds downward.   

Lo here are all that in black weeds do mourn,  
And now me thinks I so thy countenance turn:  
What trill thy tears? nay (Reader) than a done  
The firmament contains but one cleore Sun.   

And since that Delia is from hence bereaven,  
We have an other Sun ordained by heaven.  
God grant his virtues may so glorious shine,  
That after death he may be crowned divine. Amen.    

The 12. Bannerols, were carried by 12. Barons: beginning at the youngest first.  

The first Banner, was of King Henry the second, & Elinor of Aquitaine. Carried by the Lord Norris.  
The second, of King john, & Isabel of Angolisme: carried by the Lord Compton.  
The third, of King Henry the third, and Elinor of Arragon: carried by the Lord Chandois.  
The fourth, of King Edward the first, and Elinor of Castillia: carried by the Lord Compton.  
The fifth, of King Edward the second, and Isabel of France: carried by Lord Darcy of the South.  
The sixth, of King Edward the third, and Philippe of Haynolt: carried by Lord Cromwell.  
The seventh, of Edmond of Langley Duke of York, & Isabel of Castil: carried by Lord Windsor.  
The eight, of Richard Earl of Cambridge, and Anne Mortimer: carried by Lord Darcy of the North.  
The ninth, of Richard Duke of York, and Cicely Nevil: carried by Lord Dudley.  
The tenth, of King Edward the fourth, and Elizabeth Wooduile: carried by Lord Grace.  
The eleventh, of King Henry the seventh, and Elizabeth, daughter to King Edward the fourth: carried by Lord Cobham.  
The twelve, of Henry the eight, and Anne Bulloyne, Father and mother to our late deceased Queen: carried by the Lord de la ware.    
Vivat jacobus: Angliae, Scotiae, Franciae et Hiberniae Rex.  
FINIS.