✚ An Epytaphe, or a lamentable Discourse: wherein is bewailed the death of the Right worshipful Knight, Sir William GARRET: One of the Queen's majesties Commissioners, and chief Alderman of the honourable City of London. Who deceased the .27. of SEPTEMBER. 1571. s  
WHo can refrain from sorwing plaints,  
and brinish blubbering tears?  
What heart will now refuse to groan?  
and turn from joy his ears.  
Ne high, ne low, ne Rich, ne poor, in London that remain,  
But have just cause for GARRATS' loss, to languish and complain:  
Help me therefore ye powers divine: that in the heavens do devil,  
The loss of this most worthy wight▪ in mourning Verse to tell.  
Come now CALLIOPE I pray, and CLIO Golden Dame:  
with Sisters thine from HELICON, aid me frssh plaints to frame.  
Stay not on Mownt PERNASO now, cast on your mourning weed,  
convert your Hymns and Songs of joy, to wailing woes with speed.  
Sand forth with me your sighing sobs, the sacred Skies to pierce:  
that unto Gods and mortal men, our plaints we may disperse.  
And fail me not O PALLAS now, amidst my grief and woe:  
But grant with skill to guide my Quill, these heavy News to shoe.  
Sigh I with tears do crave your aid, let me your favour find:  
The loss of GARRAT worthy Wight, help now to print in mind.  
What? fly ye thus from me? alas: why go ye back again?  
will none of you to further me, vouchsafe to take the pain?  
Alas, (unskilful wretch:) Disdain doth thee betide:  
For MEDUCE and PIERIDES, with thee in place abide:  
These Dames, as hard as Steel or Flint, are fixed in thy sight:  
and thou hast naught but black and white, thy meaning to indite.  
Leave off therefore, sith CLIOS' Spring, of Rhetoric is fled:  
thy will is good, but powers thine, with Ignorance are fed.  
I wept to see my Fortune such, my woes did then abound:  
But hope at last to comfort me, a present mean forth found:  
Fear not (quoth she) despair thou not, set drooping dread aside,  
take Pen and wriie: to comfort thee, (I hope) a mean provide.  
Lift up thine eyes, behold and see, Dame Truth is in thy sight:  
with that I rendered humble thanks, and took my Pen to wright.  
And now, away ye doubtful lets, that clogged my heart with fears:  
By force to give you overthrow, Dame Truth in place appears.  
Should GARRATS' loss unminded be? such Friend to Common weal,  
Though he be gone, should we not way, his true and godly zeal?  
Should we forget his courtesy, so plainly known and seen?  
Then most unkind we should remain, sith he our friend hath been.  
You Consuls wise, ye Senators, that London's wealth provide,  
Lament and wail, for unto you, no small loss is betide.  
You all have lost a faithful Friend, for Counsel sage and wise:  
In things of weight, ye failed not, to follow his advise.  
But now that sacred JOVE, by wisdom his decreed▪  
That LACHESIS & CLOTHO both, their toil should leave in deed:  
Comes PARCHAS she, with Sickle sharp, & shreds the thread in twain  
That three score years & seven. to weave: they had employed their pain.  
She cutteth down this olive green, whose Branches fair did shoe,  
His days are run to CHAMPION now, and BE●CHER he will go.  
Of HAYWARD wise▪ Praetorian he, now GARRAT leave doth take  
Good OFFLEY old, and gentle WHITE: by Death he must forsake.  
The DRAPER wise, and ALLEN he, whose wisdom doth excel.  
with all the Troop of Aldermen, thus GARRAT bids, Farewell.  
Therefore in Senate when you sit▪ and want him in your train:  
For wisdom his, in Memory, let Image his remain.  
In ●ule, he was your equal sure: for Counsel SOLON he,  
Then meet with tears his Absence should, of you lamented be.  
No Rule▪ but he hath borne▪ that doth to LONDON long,  
A man upright in justice sure, that knew the right from wrong.  
Most apt was GARRAT to do good, to all and every wight,  
Both rich and poor▪ may wail the loss, of such a gentle Knight.  
In justice, single was he sure, in judgement alway sound:  
To cease contending▪ prove and priest, this worthy man was found.  
To needy poor a perfit friend, to tender all their grief,  
And such a one, as spared not, to them to give relief.  
Unto the Prisoners poor, that did in captive plight remain:  
From bands to free all that he could, he did employ his pain.  
But who hath lost the greatest loss? I know not one, but all:  
But to his Spouse and Lady dear, the greatest loss doth fall.  
She wants her loving Make, her Friend and Turtle true:  
whose death with sighs & sorrowing sobs, she ceaseth not to rue.  
His Children dear their Father want, they lack their Staff & stay.  
His Servants they, their Master miss, alas and well away.  
But that they lost, the Lord hath sound, the mighty God on high:  
For as his life was virtuous, so godly he did die.  
Amidst his bitter pangs of death, that were both sharp and strong:  
To see his Christ and heavenly joys, he vehemently did long.  
And now his wish he hath obtained, for Death hath done his will:  
His Corpse devoid of breath doth rest, yet shall his Fame live still.  
His Soul by faith the Heavens hath won, his Body shrouds in Clay  
This final farewell GARRAT take: I have no more to say.  
I PHILIP.  
FINIS.   

¶ Imprinted at London in the upper end of Fleetelane: by Richard jonnes, and are to be sold at his Shop, joining to the south-west Door of saint Paul's Church. 1571. October 4.