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PRINTED BY BAL-LANTYNE AND COMPAIWY 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
Cpitapljs anti €pt2rams 
 
 CURIOUS, QUAINT 
 
 AND 
 
 AMUSING 
 
 FROM VARIOUS SOURCES 
 
 i-^ 
 
 ^^72 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAMUEL PALMER 
 
 20 CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, WX, 
 

Gray's Elegy has endowed almost all of us with a 
 love for " Grave Literature." Under this impression, 
 herein is offered a selection of the most quaint 
 inscriptions from the various Churchyards of our 
 ancient villages, where the sexton, or epitaph writer, 
 oftentimes unintentionally, but more frequently in sly 
 humour, indulged himself with a joke at the expense 
 of those to whom dying was '^ no joke at all." 
 
 Upper Hollo way, At^gust 1869. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 I. — In Banbury Churchyard^ Oxfordshire. 
 
 To the memory of Ric. Richards, who by a gangrene 
 first lost a toe, afterwards a leg, and lastly his life, on the 
 7th of April 1656. 
 
 Ah ! cruel Death, to make three meals of one ! 
 To taste, and eat, and eat, till all was gone. 
 But know, thou tyrant ! when the trump shall call, 
 He'll find his feet, and stand when thou shalt fall. 
 
 2. — On a Sailor^ written by his Messmate, 
 
 Here lies honest Jack, to the lobsters a prey, 
 
 Who liv'd like a sailor, free, hearty, and gay ; 
 
 His rigging well fitted, his sides close and tight, 
 
 His bread-room well-furnish'd, his mainmast upright : 
 
 When Death like a pirate, built solely for plunder. 
 
 Thus haiFd honest Jack, in a voice loud as thunder, 
 
 Drop your peak, my old boy ! and your topsails throw 
 
 back ! 
 For already too long you 've remained on that tack. 
 Jack heard the dread call, and without more ado, 
 His sails flattened in, and his bark she broach'd to. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 'On Jo, Blacket^ Poet and Shoe7naker^ of Seaha^n, 
 7iear Sunderland, 
 
 Stranger ! behold interr'd together, 
 The souls of learning and of leather. 
 Poor Joe is gone, but left his all — 
 You '11 find his relics in a stall. 
 His works were neat, and often found 
 Well-stitch'd, and with morocco bound. 
 Tread lightly — where the bard is laid 
 He cannot mend the shoe he made ; 
 Yet he is happy in his hole. 
 With verse immortal as his sole. 
 But still to business he held fast, 
 And stuck to Phcebus to the last. 
 Then who shall say so good a fellow 
 Was only leather and prunella ? 
 For character — he did not lack it. 
 And if he did — 'twere shame to Black-it ! 
 
 4. — In Kilmurry Churchyard, 
 
 This stone was raised by Sarah's lord, 
 Not Sarah's virtues to record. 
 For they 're well-known to all the town, 
 But it was raised to keep her dowjt. 
 
EPITAPHS, 
 
 ^,^0n a Miser, 
 This man was wond'rous rich, and oft did crave 
 To bear his riches with him to the grave — 
 But Death was stern, and stopped them at the door, 
 So took him only, penniless and poor. 
 
 6. — On Mr James Peck, 
 Here lies a Peck, which some men say 
 Was first of all a Peck of clay ; 
 This, wrought with skill divine, while fresh, 
 Became a curious Peck of flesh : 
 Through various forms its Maker ran. 
 Then, adding breath, made Peck a man. 
 Full sixty years Peck felt life's bubbles, 
 Till Death relieved a Peck of troubles. 
 Thus fell poor Peck, as all things must. 
 And here he lies — a Peck of dust. 
 
 - Upon one Brawne^ an Irishma7i^ but a Cornish 
 Beggai\ 
 Here Brawne, the quondam beggar lies, 
 
 Who counted by his tale. 
 Some six score winters and above : 
 
 Such virtue is in ale. 
 Ale was his meate, his drinke, his cloth, 
 
 Ale did his death reprieve ; 
 And could he still have drunk his ale, 
 
 He had been still alive. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 8. — On a?i Infant 07ily Three Mo7iihs old. 
 Since I am so quickly done for, 
 I wonder what I was begun for. 
 
 9. — Shorthand Inscription^ copied f?'07n a Monument i7i 
 one of the old Parish Churches , SculcoateSy near 
 Hull, i7i Yorkshire. 
 
 In a Vault 
 
 Behind this stone, hes the body of Mrs Jane Delamotte, 
 
 who departed this life, January the tenth, 1761. 
 
 She was a poor sinner, but not wicked ; 
 
 ungodly, but not unrighteous ; 
 
 without holiness proceeding from good works ; 
 
 and departed in the faith of the Catholic church, 
 
 in full assurance of eternal happiness, 
 
 by the agony and bloody sweat, 
 
 by the cross and passion, by the precious death and 
 
 burial, 
 
 by the glorious resurrection and ascension, of our 
 
 Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. 
 
 10. — On He7iry Miles. 
 This tomb-stone is a mile-stone ; and why so ? 
 Because beneath lies Miles, he 's Miles below. 
 A little man he was, a dwarf in size, 
 Yet now stretch'd out, at least Miles long he lies. 
 This grave, though small, contains a space so wide. 
 There 's Miles in length, and breadth and room beside. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 II. — Oil Mr Wake^ i7i All Saints Churchy Hertford, 
 
 Here sleeps Mr Wake^ 
 Who gave the four small bells. 
 
 12. — On an Iron Heel. 
 
 Released from the burthen of human frailty, which was 
 borne without murmuring, lie the remains of poor Tip^ 
 an offspring of vice. At his birth he discovered such a 
 heat of disposition, that, but for repeated blows from the 
 author of his existence, he would not have been formed 
 for society. Driven to extrejnes, he was a hanger-on^ 
 and generally at the bottom of many a black thing ; yet, 
 when he held fast to his duty, no one was better fitted to 
 strengthen the under-sta7idi7zg. Still was he too often 
 trod on in return, and was left at length entirely forsaken 
 by him to whom he had always proved a steady adherent. 
 Worn out in constitution, no longer on a footi9ig with, any 
 one, good or bad, he fell a heart-broken victim to the 
 pressure of his cares at an early age. 
 
 13. — On Foot e the Comedian. 
 
 Foote from this earthly stage, alas ! is hurM ; 
 Death took him off, who took off all the world. 
 
EPITAPHS, 
 
 14. — On a Pressman. 
 
 No more shall register imperfect, vex, 
 
 No more shall /r/^rj pale, provoke my ire. 
 No more shall bites ox picks my brain perplex, 
 
 No more the DeviVs aid shall I require. 
 No more shall gloomy monks retard my way. 
 
 No more shall overlays my patience try. 
 No more shall batters stop me half a day, 
 
 No more shall I the i?'07t frisket fly. 
 My body has been overrun with care, 
 
 My soul shall undergo a strict revise, 
 And if my Founder thinks ray proof \s fair, 
 
 I quick shall Join my Saviour in the skies. 
 
 15. — On a Tombstone i7i Hey don Churchyard, near 
 Hull, in Yorkshire. 
 
 Here lies the body of William Sturt, of Patrington, 
 buried May 18, 1685, aged 97 years. He had children 
 by his first wife 28 ; by his second 17 ; own father to 45 ; 
 grandfather to %^ ; great-grandfather to ^^ \ great-great- 
 grandfather to 23 ; in all, 251. 
 
 16. — In a Churchyard in Ireland. 
 
 Here Hes Pat Steele. — 
 
 That's very true: 
 Who was he ? What was he i* — 
 
 What 's that to you ? 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 17. — Written at the instance of a Convivial Friend, 
 
 Low sinks my friend, dear comfort of my heart, 
 
 O'er whose embraces I have hung with joy ; 
 Whose touch upon my lip would health impart, 
 
 And whose delights could never, never cloy. 
 To thy endearments I must bid adieu ; 
 
 But, ah ! thy smiles in memory I '11 lock, 
 And as I sigh my constant mind shall rue 
 
 The last departed — Bottle of Old Hock ! 
 
 18. — In Hefidon Churchyard. 
 
 Beneath this stone Tom Crossfield lies, 
 Who cares not now who laughs or cries ; 
 He laugh'd when sober, and when mellow 
 He was a harum-scarum harmless fellow. 
 He gave to none designed offence. 
 So — " Honi soi qui mal y pense." 
 
 19. — In Feterchurch, Herefordshire, 
 
 Sickness was my portion, 
 
 Physic was my food. 
 Groans was my devotion. 
 
 Drugs did me no good. 
 The Lord took pity on me, 
 
 Because He thought it best — 
 He took me to His bosom, 
 
 And here I lie at rest. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 20. — On Frederick Prince of Wales, Father of 
 King Georg^e III, 
 
 Here lies Prince Fred, 
 Lying down among the dead ; 
 Had it been his father, 
 \Vc had much rather ; 
 Had it been his motlier, 
 Better than any other ; 
 Had it been his sister, 
 Few would have miss'd her ; 
 Had it been the whole generation, 
 Ten times better for the nation ; 
 But since 'tis only Fred, 
 There's no more to be said ! 
 
 2 1. — O/i a Blacksjiiiih. 
 
 Blown out his bellows, and his fire decay'd. 
 See Death's fell hammer on poor Cyclops laid. 
 Reader, proclaim ! if thou can'st tell, his worth. 
 But let his vice lie hid with him in earth. 
 
 2 2. — Fro?n the French^ on a Ma?i who was hanged in 
 chains, writte?i by his Cousin, 
 
 My uncle's son lies here below, 
 
 Who rests in peace — when the wind don't blow. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 23. — 0)1 a Good Wife, 
 
 Encomiums is but flattery, she was a good wife, and pray 
 God bless her soul. 
 
 24. — /;/ Dcjimark Churchyard, Ireland, 
 
 Here lie the remains of John Hall, grocer. The world is 
 not worth a hg, and I have good reason for saying so. 
 
 25. — On a Stump Orator, 
 
 Here lies a witless dog, who had the wit 
 
 To make men think he had no lack of it. 
 
 Like his own tongue, his life was always loose ; 
 
 But his loose tongue his looseness did excuse. 
 
 He nothing knew, yet men believed he taught ; 
 
 His words were many, but their value nought. 
 
 The fools who listen'd thought his notes were gold ; 
 
 And, to speak truth, for that they oft were sold! 
 
 He was as coarse a specimen of clay 
 
 As ever clogg'd a hole, or stopp'd the way. 
 
 His name was Mudd, his ways were in the slime. 
 
 While life's oiFd wheels ran o'er the shores of time ; 
 
 But when death's drought came on, as come it must, 
 
 He dried into a little heap of dust. 
 
 
10 EPITAPHS. 
 
 26. — On a Lawyer, 
 
 See how God works His wonders now and then,- 
 Here lies a lawyer and an honest man. 
 
 27. — In Blakemore Church. 
 
 26 years I lived single, 
 
 5 a married life, 
 Long time I was afflicted. 
 
 And then I lost my life. 
 
 28. — 071 a Miller, 
 
 Underneath this ancient mill, 
 Lies the body of poor Will ; 
 Odd he lived, and odd he died, 
 And at his funeral nobody cried ; 
 Where he 's gone, and how he fares. 
 Nobody knows, and nobody cares. 
 
 29. — On John Prosser, 
 
 John Prosser is my name, and England is my nation, 
 
 Bowchurch is my dwelling-place, and Christ is my sal- 
 vation ; 
 
 Now I am dead, and in my grave, and all my bones are 
 rotten, 
 
 As you pass by remember me, when I am quite forgotten. 
 
EPITAPHS, II 
 
 30. — In Michael Church, 
 
 This is the place where all must come ; 
 
 On earth there 's no perfection ; 
 The soul shall meet the body great, 
 
 Both at the resurrection. 
 
 31. — On Petrarch^ at Arqiia^ in Italy. 
 
 This stone doth cover the cold bones of Franc Petrarch : 
 Thou Virgin Mother take his soul ; thou Christ pardon 
 
 grant ; 
 Now weary of the Earth, he rests in heaven's Arke. 
 
 32. — On a Tailor and Barber, 
 
 In a timber surtout here are wrapt the remains 
 
 Of a mower of beards and a user of skeins ; 
 
 'Twas the shears of grim Death cut his stay-tape of life, 
 
 And press'd him away from twist, razors, and wife ; 
 
 But the prayer of all people he sew'd for or shav'd, 
 
 Is that he's with the remnant of those that are sav'd. 
 
 33. — On William Maginn, of Walton-on- Thames. 
 
 Here, early to bed, lies kind William Maginn, 
 Who with genius, wit, learning, life's trophies to win, 
 Had neither great lord, nor rich cit of his kin, 
 Nor discretion to set himself up as to tin : 
 
12 EPITAPHS, 
 
 So his portion soon spent, like the poor heir of Lynn, 
 He turn'd author, ere yet there was beard on his chin ; 
 And whoever was out, or whoever was in, 
 For your Tories his fine Irish brains he would spin ; 
 Who received prose and rhyme with a promising grin, 
 " Go a-head, you queer fish, and more pow'r to your 
 
 fin!" 
 But to save from starvation stirr'd never a pin. 
 Light for long was his heart, tho' his breeches were thin, 
 Else his acting, for certain, was equal to Quin : 
 But at last he was beat, and sought help of the bin, 
 (All the same to the doctor, from claret to gin !), 
 Which led swiftly to gaol, with consumption therein. 
 It was much, when the bones rattled loose in the skin. 
 He got leave to die here, out of Babylon's din. 
 Barring drink and the girls, I ne'er heard of a sin, 
 Many worse, better few, than bright, broken Maginn ! 
 
 34. — In Rip07i Churchyard^ Yorkshire, 
 
 Reader, who, gazing on this lettered stone, 
 My fate displaying, thoughtless of thine own, 
 On this important truth thou may'st rely, 
 To thee both death and judgment may be nigh. 
 Oh I let this solemn thought, whoe'er thou art. 
 Find place within, and regulate thy heart. 
 
EPITAPHS, 13 
 
 35. — On a Brewer, 
 
 Poor John Scott lies buried here ; 
 Tho' once he was both hale and stoict. 
 Death stretch'd him on his bitter bier^ 
 In another world he hops about ! 
 
 2^6. — On a Covetous Person, 
 
 Of him within, nought e'er v^diS gratis had, 
 That you read this so cheap now makes him sad. 
 
 37. — On William Quick, 
 Here lies the quick and dead. 
 
 38. — On William Prynne, 
 
 Here lies the corpse of William Prynne, 
 A Bencher late of Lincoln's Inn, 
 Who rudely thrust thro' thick and thin, 
 Was never out — nor never in. 
 
 A shameless, graceless, gospel-spiller. 
 An endless, restless, margin-filler ; 
 To King and Bishops no good wilier, 
 To Church and State a caterpiller. 
 
 Against his fate in vain he shrugs, 
 In hopes of life, himself he hugs ; 
 And whilst he for more tether tugs, 
 Death crops the remnant of his lugs. 
 
14 EPITAPHS, 
 
 39. — At Bictierton^ a Village in Staffordshire, 
 
 Near to this stone John Barnet lies, 
 There 's no man frets, nor no man cries. 
 Where he 's gone, or how he fares, 
 There 's no man knows, nor no man cares. 
 
 40. — Oji Stephen, a well-known Dwarf Fiddler in 
 Suffolk, 
 
 Stephen and Time 
 Are now both even ; 
 Stephen beat Time, 
 Now Time beats Stephen. 
 
 41. — 0?i a Card Maker. 
 
 His card is cut ; long days he shuffled through 
 The game of life : he dealt as others do. 
 Though he by houours tells not its amount, 
 "When the last trump is pla/d, his tricks will count. 
 
 42. — On a Miser'' s Tomb, 
 
 Here lies old Father Gripe, who never cried ^^Jam 
 
 satis ; " 
 'T would wake him did he know you read his tombstone 
 
 gratis. 
 
EPITAPHS. 15 
 
 43. — In the Old Churchy near Christ Churchy Bristol, 
 
 Here lieth Tho. Turar, and Mary, his wife. He was 
 twice Master of the Company of Bakers, and twice 
 Churchwarden of this parish. He died March 6th, 1654. 
 She died May 8th, 1643. 
 
 Like to the baker's oven^ is the grave. 
 
 Wherein the bodyes of the faithful have 
 
 A setting in^ and where they do remain 
 
 In hopes to rise, and to be drawn again ; 
 
 Blessed are they, who in the Lord are dead. 
 
 Though set like doicgh^ they shall be drawn like bread. 
 
 44. — On the last Ki?ig of Corsica, 
 
 Who died December ii, 1756, shortly after his liberation from the King's 
 Bench Prison, and was buried in St Anne's, Westminster. 
 
 The grave, great master, to a level brings 
 Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings ; 
 But Theodore this moral learned ere dead — 
 Fate poured its lesson on his living head, 
 Bestowed a kingdom, and denied him bread. 
 
 Horace Walpole caused a marble monument to be erected 
 to his memory. 
 
 45. — At Bideford, Devon, 
 
 Here lies two brothers — by misfortune surrounded, 
 One died of his wounds — the other was drownded. 
 
1 6 EPITAPHS. 
 
 46. — On a Country Squire^ 
 
 Buried in the Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Beneath this stone there lies a skull, 
 Which when it breath'd, was wondrous dull, 
 But now 'tis dead and doom'd to rot. 
 This skull ^s as wise (pray is it not ?) 
 As Shakespeare's, Newton's, Prior's, Gay's, 
 The wits, the sages of their days. 
 
 47. — On John Shaw, an Attorney. 
 
 Here lies John Shaw, 
 Attorney-at-law, 
 And when he died, 
 The Devil cried, 
 " Give us your paw, 
 John Shaw, 
 Attorney-at-law." 
 '' Pshaw ! pshaw ! '^ 
 
 48. — On Robert Trollop, Architect, in Gateshead 
 Churchyard, Durham, 
 
 Here lies Robert Trollop, 
 Who made yon stones roll up ; 
 When Death took his soul up. 
 His body fill'd this hole up. 
 
EPITAPHS. 17 
 
 49. — On Mr Speid^ in the Honff^ Dundee. 
 
 Time flies with speed, with speed Speid's fled 
 To the dark regions of the dead ; 
 With speed consumption's sorrows flew, 
 And stopt Speid's speed, for Speid it slew : 
 Miss Speid beheld, with frantic woe, 
 Poor Speid with speed turn pale as snow, 
 And beat her breast and tore her hair, 
 For Speid, poor Speid, was all her care. 
 Let's learn of Speid with speed to fly, 
 From sin, since we like Speid must die. 
 
 50. — On a Bellows Maker ^ in Newcastle Churchyard. 
 
 Here lies poor Wallace, 
 
 The prince of good fellows, 
 Clerk of All Hallows, 
 
 And maker of bellows ; 
 He bellows did make. 
 
 To the day of his death. 
 But he that made bellows 
 
 Could never make breath, 
 
 51. — Lt Mather n Churchyard, MomnotMshire. 
 
 John Lee is dead, that good old man, 
 
 You ne'er will see him more ; 
 He used to wear an old brown coat, 
 
 All button'd down before. 
 
1 8 EPITAPHS, 
 
 52. — 0)1 Mrs Lcc and her son Toni^ at Friyidsbiiry ^ 
 Kent 
 
 In her life she did her best, 
 Now I hope her sours at rest ; 
 Also her son Tom lies at her feet — 
 He lived till he made both ends meet ! 
 
 53. — On Margery Seotfy in f/ie Churchyai'd of Dwikeld. 
 
 [She lived single 25 years, married 50 years, and was a 
 widow 50 years.] 
 
 Stop, reader, here, until my life youVe read, 
 The living may gain knowledge from the dead : 
 Five times five years I 've lived a virgin's life ; 
 Ten times five years I was a married wife ; 
 Ten times five years a widow grave and chaste ; 
 Now wearied of this mortal life I rest. 
 I from my cradle to my grave have seen 
 Eight mighty kings of Scotland and a queen ; 
 Four times five years the Commonwealth I saw, 
 Ten times the subjects rise against the law, 
 Twice did I see old prelacy put down, 
 And twice the cloak did sink beneath the gown. 
 An end of Stuart's race I saw, — nay more, 
 I saw my country sold for English ore ; 
 Such desolation in my time has been, 
 That I 've an end of all perfection seen. 
 
EPITAPHS. 19 
 
 54. — 0)1 Mrs Death, 
 
 Here lies Death's wife : when this way next you tread, 
 Be not surprised should Death himself be dead. 
 
 55. — On a Blacks7nitJi, 
 
 My sledge and hammer lie reclined, 
 My bellows too have lost their wind ; 
 My fire's extinct, my forge decay'd, 
 And in the dust my vice is laid ; 
 My coal is spent, my iron gone, 
 My nails are drove, my work is done. 
 
 56. — On a Gravesto7ie at Wood Ditton^ in which is 
 fixed an iron dish, according to the instructions of 
 the deceased, 
 
 William Symons, ob. 1753, ast. 80. 
 
 Here is my corpse, who was the man 
 That loved a sop in the dripping pan ; 
 But now, believe me, I am dead. 
 So here the pan stands at my head. 
 Still for .sops to the last I cried, 
 But could not eat, and so I died. 
 My neighbours, they perhaps will laugh, 
 When they do read my epitaph. 
 
20 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 57. — In St Peter'' s Churchyard^ Isle of Thanet, 
 
 Against his will, 
 
 Here lies George Hill, 
 
 Who from a cliff, 
 
 Fell down quite stiff; 
 When it happen'd is not known, 
 Therefore not mentioned on this stone. 
 
 58. — On a Scold. 
 
 Here lies my wife in earthly mould, 
 Who, when she liv^d, did nought but scold ; 
 Peace, wake her not, for now she 's still. 
 She had, but now I have my will. 
 
 59. — On a Quack, 
 I WAS a quack, and there are men who say 
 That in my time I physick'd lives away ; 
 And that at length I by myself was slain 
 By my own drugs, ta'en to relieve my pain. 
 The truth is, being troubled with a cough, 
 I like a fool consulted Dr Gough ; 
 Who physicked me to death, at his own will. 
 Because he's licensed by the State to kill : 
 Had I but wisely taken my own physic, 
 I never should have died of cold and 'tisick. 
 So all be warn'd, and when you catch a cold 
 Go to my son, by whom my medicine's sold. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 21 
 
 60. — In Luton Church, 
 
 Here lies the body of Samuel Proctor, 
 Who lived and died without a doctor. 
 
 61. — On an Epicure. 
 
 At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er, 
 I Ve eat sufficient, I can drink no more : 
 My night is come ; I Ve spent a jovial day ; 
 'Tis time to part : but oh ! what is to pay ? 
 
 (^2, — On Oliver Goldsmith ^ by Garrick, 
 
 Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, 
 Who wrote like an Angel, but talk'd like poor Poll. 
 
 63. — On a Coalheaver. 
 
 Cease to lament his change, ye just. 
 He 's only gone from dust to dust. 
 
 ' 64. — Oit a Locksmith, 
 
 A ZEALOUS locksmith died of late, 
 And did arrive at heaven's gate : 
 He stood without, and would not knock, 
 Because he meant to pick the lock. 
 
22 EPITAPHS. 
 
 65. — On Charles Selwyn. 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, whom conscious merit warms, 
 
 And truth most beauteous with unborrow'd charms, 
 
 Reflect — 'tis Selwyn lies interr'd below, 
 
 And on the common loss a tear bestow. 
 
 While youth permitted, in the doubtful field 
 
 Oft had his valour taught the foe to yield. 
 
 When age approach'd, the patriot's watchful care 
 
 Succeeded (nobler conflict !) to the war. 
 
 His voice still pleading in his country's cause, 
 
 The Senate heard, and virtue join'd applause. 
 
 At length, when waning life and sharp disease, 
 
 The public toils unequal, call'd for ease, 
 
 That rest he wanted, yielding Nature gave, 
 
 in death undreaded, and a peaceful grave. 
 
 (i(i.—07i a Smuggler, 
 
 Here I lies, 
 Killed by the X I S. 
 
 6^.-071 Matthew Mudd, 
 
 Here lies Matthew Mudd, 
 Death did him no hurt ; 
 
 When alive he was mtid^ 
 Now he 's nothing but dirt. 
 
EPITAPHS, 23 
 
 (iZ, — 071 Two T?tfa7its, m Gloucestershire, 
 
 Here lies two babbies, as dead as nits, 
 Who died in agonising fits ; 
 They were too good to live with we, 
 So God did take to live with He. 
 
 69. — In Bunhill Fields Biirying-ground. 
 
 Here lies 
 
 Dame Mary Page, 
 
 Relict of Sir Gregory Page, Bart. 
 
 She departed this Life 
 
 March 4th, 1728, 
 
 In the 56th year of her Age. 
 
 In 6'] months she was tapped (^6 times. Had taken 
 away 240 gallons of water, without ever repining at her 
 case, or ever fearing the operation. 
 
 70.- — 071 a Parish Clerk, 
 Here lies within this tomb, so calm. 
 
 Old Giles — pray sound his knell — 
 Who thought no song was like a Psalm, 
 
 No music like a bell. 
 
 71.- — On a Dyer, 
 
 Here lies a man who dyed of wool great store ; 
 One day he died himself, and dyed no more. 
 
24 EPITAPHS, 
 
 72. — On a Postilion, 
 
 Here I lays. 
 Kilt by a chays. 
 
 73. — On Benjamin Frankli7i, 
 
 I GO, my friends, where sorrow's foot ne'er trod, 
 I go to meet my Saviour and my God, 
 Where heavenly instruments are nobly strung, 
 And loud eternal hallelujahs rung. 
 Where great archangels never cease to sing — 
 *' All holy, holy, is our Saviour King ! 
 Who was, and is, and ever shall endure, 
 Whose crown's immortal, and His right secure.'^ 
 
 74. — O71 Richard Burke, 
 
 Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at ; 
 Alas ! that such frolic should now be so quiet ! 
 What spirits were his ! what wit and what whim ! 
 Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb ! 
 Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball ! 
 Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all ! 
 In short, so provoking a fellow was Dick, 
 That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick ; 
 But missing his mirth and agreeable vein, 
 As often we wish'd to have Dick back again ! 
 
EPITAPHS, 25 
 
 75. — On Mr Pepper^ a Publican^ at St J'ohn's^ 
 Stamford^ Lincol?ishire, 
 
 Hot by name, but mild by nature, 
 He brew'd good ale for every creature ; 
 He brew'd good ale, and sold it too, 
 And unto each man gave his due. 
 
 76. — On an Author, ^ 
 
 A LIFE of labour, by no pause relieved. 
 Wore out a brain with splendid thoughts conceived. 
 Had Fortune kindly given him more of leisure, 
 The world perhaps had miss'd, he gain'd a pleasure ; 
 With less of friction, and much more of rust, 
 Death might have waited longer for his dust. 
 
 77. — Li the Church of St Martin^ Leicester. 
 
 Here lieth the body of John Heyrick, of this parish, who 
 departed this life the second of April 1589, being about 
 the age of seventy-six years. He did marry Mary, the 
 daughter of John Bond, of Warden, in the county of 
 Warwick, Esq. He lived with the said Mary in one 
 house full fifty-two years, and in all that time never 
 buried man, woman, nor child, though they were some- 
 times twenty in household. He had issue by the said 
 Mary five sons and seven daughters. The said John was 
 Mayor of the town in 1559, and again anno 1572. The 
 
26 EPITAPHS. 
 
 said Mary lived to ninety-seven years, and departed the 
 8th of December 1611. She did see, before her depar- 
 ture, of her children, and children's children, and their 
 children, to the number of 142. 
 
 78. — On a Physician^ 
 
 Here Doctor Fisher lies interred, 
 Who fill'd the half of this churchyard. 
 
 79. — Oil a celebrated Cook, 
 Peace to his hashes. 
 
 80. — On Emma Horatio Lisle. 
 
 If to her child, for ever gone, 
 
 A widow'd mother consecrates this stone ; 
 
 No partial praise records the illustrious maid, 
 
 Chaste Emma's worth demands no partial aid. 
 
 How late was beauty, innocence and truth, 
 
 Hers, age's wisdom in the bloom of youth. 
 
 To her, while glow'd the ingenuous cheeks with health, 
 
 Content was bliss, and Godliness was wealth. 
 
 In sickness patient, and compos'd in death. 
 
 With calm devotion she resign'd her breath, 
 
 Fearless beheld the grave and judgment near, 
 
 Her Saviour's " perfect love" had cast out fear. 
 
 Such was the heart this marble bids be known, 
 
 Depart now, reader, — and correct thine own. 
 
EPITAPHS, 27 
 
 81. — On a Miser, 
 
 Reader, beware immoderate love of pelf ; 
 
 Here lies the worst of thieves — who robb'd himself. 
 
 % 2. —John Sulle7i, 
 
 Here lies John Sullen ; and it is God's will, 
 He that was Sullen should be Sullen still ; 
 He still is 6*^//^;^, if the truth ye seek, 
 Knock until doomsday, Sullen will not speak. 
 
 Zt^.—O^i a Favourite Cat, 
 
 Ah ! Pierrot ! in thy vigorous days 
 
 By early death laid low ! 
 On thee no marble urn I raise, 
 
 No mouldering pomp bestow : 
 But near this brook I lay thy head. 
 
 Where willows shade the ground ; 
 And crop the weeds that dare to spread, 
 
 And smooth the turf around ! 
 Pierrot ! be this the tomb I give. 
 
 This melancholy lay ! 
 Haply these tender strains may live, 
 
 When costliest piles decay. 
 And when (my sorrowing period spent) 
 
 The grave shall gape for me. 
 Thy master's be a monument 
 
 Like this, dear puss, to thee ! 
 
28 EPITAPHS. 
 
 84.- — At High Wycombe. 
 
 Death is a fisherman ; the world we see 
 A fish-pond is, and we the fishes be ; 
 He sometimes angles, like doth with us play, 
 And slyly takes us, one by one away. 
 
 85. — At Cheltenham. 
 
 Here lies I and my three daughters, 
 KilFd by drinking the Cheltenham waters ; 
 If we had stuck to our Epsom salts. 
 We 'd not been a lying in these here vaults. 
 
 Z(i, — In Iwickenham Churchyard^ to the memory of 
 the Woman who nursed Pope. 
 
 To the. memory of Mary Beach, who died Nov. 5, 1725, 
 aged "jZ. Alexander Pope, whom she nursed in his infancy, 
 and whom she affectionately attended for twenty-eight 
 years, in gratitude for such a faithful old servant, erected 
 this stone. 
 
 87.— C>;? M. Goodrich. 
 
 Here lieth one, whose name doth speak him even. 
 On Earth accepted, and belov'd in Heaven. 
 
EPITAPHS. 29 
 
 \,—0n Captai?t -, who was drowned at Graves- 
 
 ejid^ in the Churchyard of St John^ Mors ley down. 
 
 Friends, cease to grieve, that at Gravesend 
 
 My life was clos'd with speed, 
 For when the Saviour shall descend, 
 
 Twill be graves' end indeed. 
 
 89. — Nautical Epitaph. 
 
 Though boist'rous winds and Neptune's waves 
 
 Have toss'd me to and fro, 
 In spite of both, by God's decree, 
 
 I harbour here below. 
 
 Where at an anchor I do lie, 
 
 With many of the fleet, 
 Expecting, when I do set sail 
 
 My Admiral Christ to meet. 
 
 90. — On a Costermonger, in Chester Churchyard. 
 
 " Periwinks, Periwinkles ! " was ever her cry. 
 
 She laboured to live poor, and honest to die ; 
 
 At the last day again, how her old eyes will twinkle, 
 
 For no more she will cry " Periwinks, Periwinkle ! " 
 
 Ye rich, to virtue's want rejoicing give — 
 
 Ye poor, by her example learn to live. 
 
30 EPITAPHS. 
 
 91. — On Matthetv Prior ^ the Poet, 
 
 Nobles and heralds, by your leave, 
 Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior ; 
 
 The son of Adam and of Eve, 
 
 Let Bourbon or Nassau go higher. 
 
 92. — On a To7nbsto7ie at Ecdesfield^ near Sheffield, 
 
 Our life is like a winter^s day, 
 Some only breakfast and away ; 
 Others to dinner stay, and are full fed ; 
 The oldest man but sups, and goes to bed. 
 Large is the debt who lingers out the day ; 
 Who goes the soonest has the least to pay. 
 
 93. — On Mr Richard Jackson, 
 
 Lament, ye Muses, that my friend's no more ; 
 The loss oi Richard IqI us all deplore. 
 And thou, O stranger, who shall read these lines, 
 Believe my verse, his soul in Heaven shines. 
 In all things faithful, virtuous, meek, and mild. 
 He liv'd and dy'd as harmless as a child. 
 When that he dy'd Euterpe dropt a tear. 
 And bless'd Urania wifd away all fear. 
 Shew me his equal, traveler, if you can ; 
 He liv'd a saint, and dy'd an honest man. 
 
EPITAPHS, 31 
 
 94. — At Peftrhyn, Cornwall, 
 
 Here lies William Smith, 
 And what is somewhat rarish, 
 He was born, bred, and 
 Hanged in this parish. 
 
 95. — On a Scoldi?tg Woman, 
 
 We lived one and twentie yeare, 
 
 Like man and wife together ; 
 I could no longer have her here. 
 
 She 's gone — I know not whither. 
 If I could guess, I doe professe 
 
 (I speak it not to flatter). 
 Of all the women in the worlde, 
 
 I never would come at her ! 
 Her body is bestowed well, 
 
 A handsome grave doth hide her ; 
 And sure, her soule is not in hell — 
 
 The Fiend could nere abide her : 
 I think she mounted up on high. 
 
 For in the last great thunder, 
 Methought I heard her voice on high. 
 
 Rending the clouds in sunden 
 
 96. — On Mrs Elizabeth Archer, 
 
 Praises on tombs are trifles vainly spent ; 
 This woman's good name is her monument. 
 
32 EPITAPHS. 
 
 97. — 0?i a Parish Clerk ^ in Weston Church, 
 Here lies entomb'd within this vault, so dark, 
 A tailor, cloth-drawer, soldier, and clerk.. 
 Death snatch'd him hence, and also from him took 
 His needle, thimble, sword, and prayer-book. 
 He could not work, nor fight, — what then ? 
 He left the world, and faintly cried, " Amen ! " 
 
 98. — On Thomas Woodcock, 
 Here lie the remains of Thomas Wood^^;^, 
 The most amiable of husbands and excellent of men. 
 N,B, — His real name was ^ood^cock^ but it wouldn't 
 come in rhyme. — His Widow, 
 
 99. — On Mrs Hannah Storks, wife of Mr Thomas 
 Storks, 
 
 Who died 13th December 1777, and her Infant Daughter, who died the 28th 
 of the same month, aged two years, 
 
 Rest, dearest shades, secure from grief and care, 
 Afflictive pains, and ev'ry hurtful snare 5 
 Till that dread morn, when God reveal'd will come, 
 And trembling Nature meet her final doom : 
 Then may you rise, renewed with ev'ry grace, 
 With joy to meet your God, your Saviour's face ; 
 Then may the hand that now inscribes this stone. 
 That lov'd you living, and laments you gone, 
 Triumphant meet you in the realms above. 
 To sing the wonders of redeeming love. 
 
EPITAPHS. 33 
 
 loo. — 071 Mrs Mary Rogers. 
 
 Hear lyeth the bones of Mary Rogers, who left this 
 world A.D. 1692 ; she was a goode mother, wifee, and 
 'daughterr. 
 
 Al goud people, as you pass 
 
 Pray reed my hour glass ; 
 
 After sweets and bitters it 's down, 
 
 And I have left your pretty town* 
 
 Remember soon you must prepare to fly 
 
 From all your friends, and come to high, 
 
 ^ Folkstone. 
 
 1 01. — On Two Danish Soldiers, 
 
 The following inscription is on an oval stone monument, 
 against the south wall of St Mary's Church, Beverley, 
 under two swords crossed : — 
 
 Here two young Danish souldiers lie. 
 
 The one in quarrell chanc'd to die ; 
 
 The other's head, by their own law, 
 
 With sword was severed at one blow, 
 December the 23rd, 1689. 
 
 102. — On Dr Stafford, a remarkably fat 7nan, 
 
 Take heed, O good traveller, and do not tread hard, 
 For here lies Dr Stafford in all this churchyard. 
 
34 EPITAPHS, 
 
 103, — On Mr Edivard Everard. 
 
 You was to good to live on earth with me, 
 And I not good enough to die with thee : 
 Farewel, dear husband ; God would have it so : 
 You H\iiear return, but I to you must go. 
 
 [104.^6^;^ Sarah Lloyd, 
 
 In memory of Sarah Lloyd, 
 
 who departed this life March 9, 1803, 
 
 Aged 34 years. 
 
 This humble grave though no proud structures grace, 
 Yet truth and goodness sanctify the place. 
 Oh, 'scap'd from death, oh, safe on that calm shore. 
 Where pain, where grief, where sorrows are no more, 
 Where never wealth could buy, nor power decree, 
 Regard and pity wait sincere on thee. 
 Lo, soft remembrance drops a pious tear, 
 And holy friendship stands a mourner here. 
 
 105. — In Bengeo Old Churchyard^ Hertfordshire. 
 
 The world 's a city of crooked streets ; 
 
 Death is the market-place where man man meets ; 
 
 If life were merchandise which men could buy, 
 
 The rich would always live, the poor alone would die. 
 
EPITAPHS. 35 
 
 io6. — An Epitaph found in a Country Churchyard. 
 
 Bene 
 
 VI. 
 
 AT.HT : HIS : S.T. 
 
 Seab ATE yo 
 
 Oneli ESKA 
 
 VRG 
 
 Thari Neg Rayc 
 
 RiE. Fan 
 
 Hanged 
 
 DD 
 
 F. R. 
 
 Ryy ! V . . . Rey 
 
 ! mab. V. Syli Fetol 
 
 Esf. OR wh 
 
 If. Ele 
 
 ATA 
 
 SS CL 
 
 Vai L Saflo 
 
 Ayb, ye AR 
 
 ! Doft Ears. W. 
 
 Than 
 
 Hok NO : WSB. 
 
 Del— Ays 
 
 Vt Ina RuNO 
 
 Hego 
 
 Fy Ears 
 
 Therp. Elfa 
 
 In. So ... . Metall : 
 
 N D 
 
 Pit .... C. 
 
 No ws. HE 'stur 
 
 Hero . . R . . broa. 
 
 N'D. Toe ART. 
 
 D P. 
 
 Hh. Ersel Fy 
 
 Ans. He . . I 
 
 E w E E . . . Pin 
 
 N. H. 
 
 Gfr. I . . EN 
 
 Ers Hopma 
 
 D.S. L. 
 
 Y. B. 
 
 Et mea D 
 
 E. Aga .... in. 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 Beneath this stone Hes Katharine Gray, 
 
 Changed from a busy Hfe to hfeless clay : 
 
 By earth and clay she got her pelf, 
 
 And now she 's turn'd to earth herself. 
 
 Ye weeping friends— let me advise— 
 
 Abate your grief, and dry your eyes ; 
 
36 EPITAPHS. 
 
 For what avails a flood of tears ? 
 Who knows, but, in a run of years, 
 In some tall pitcher or broad pan, 
 She in her shop may be again. 
 
 107. — On Joa7i Kitchin, t?i Bttry St Edmunds 
 Churchyard, 
 
 Here lies Joan Kitchin ; when her glass was spent, 
 She kick'd up her heels, and away she went. 
 
 108. — O71 Sir Nathaniel WraxalL 
 
 Misplacing —mistaking — 
 Misquoting — misdating — 
 Men, manners, things, and facts all — 
 Here lies Sir Nathan. WraxalL 
 
 109. — At Acto7t, CornwalL 
 
 Here lies entombed, one Roger Morton, 
 Whose sudden death was early brought on ; 
 Trying one day his corn to mow off, 
 The razor slipt, and cut his toe off; 
 The toe, or rather what it grew to. 
 An inflammation quickly flew to ; 
 The parts they took to mortifying, 
 And poor dear Roger took to dying. 
 
EPITAPHS, 37 
 
 no. — On a Huntsman, 
 
 Here lies John Mills, who over hills 
 
 Pursued the hounds with hallo ; 
 The leap though high, from earth to sky, 
 
 The huntsman we must follow. 
 
 III. — Copied from a Stone in the Churchyard of 
 East Grimstead^ in Sussex, 
 
 In memory of Russell Hall 
 
 And Mary his wife. 
 
 He died March 25, 18 16, 
 
 Aged 79 years. 
 She died August 22, 1809, 
 Aged 58 years. 
 The ritual stone thy children lay 
 
 O'er thy respected dust, 
 Only proclaims the mournful day 
 
 When we our parents lost. 
 To copy thee in life we '11 strive. 
 
 And when we that resign 
 May some good-natured friend survive 
 To lay our bones by thine. 
 
 112. — Oft Dr Walker^ who wrote on the English 
 
 Particles, 
 
 Here he Walker's particles. 
 
38 EPITAPHS, 
 
 113. — At Chigwelly Essex, 
 
 This disease, you ne^er heard tell on- 
 I died of eating too much mellon ; 
 Be careful, then, all you that feed — I 
 Suffered because I was too greedy. 
 
 114. — O71 a Clergyman, named Chest, 
 
 Here lies at rest, I do protest, 
 One Chest within another ; 
 
 The chest of wood was very good — 
 Who says so of the other ? 
 
 1 15. — On a Tombstone in the Bury ing-ground of Church 
 Crettow, a village i7i Shropshire^ o?i the road betwee?i 
 Ludlow and Shrewsbury, is this epitaph — 
 
 On a Thursday she was born, 
 On a Thursday made a bride, 
 On a Thursday put to bed. 
 On a Thursday broke her leg, and 
 On a Thursday died ! 
 
 116. — An Irish Epitaph. 
 
 Here lies the body of Jonathan Ground, 
 Who was lost at sea and never found. 
 
EPITAPHS, 39 
 
 117. — In Selby Churchyard^ Yorkshire, 
 
 Here lies the body of poor Frank Rowe, 
 Parish clerk and grave-stone cutter ; 
 
 And this is writ to let you know, 
 
 What Frank for others used to do 
 Is now for Frank done by another. 
 
 118. — On Dr Johnson, by Soamejenyns, Esq. 
 
 Here lies poor J n, Reader have a care, 
 
 Tread lightly, lest you rouse a sleeping bear ; 
 Religious — moral — generous and humane 
 He was — but self-sufficient, rude and vain. 
 Ill-bred and overbearing in dispute, 
 A scholar and a Christian — yet a brute. 
 Would you know all his wisdom and his folly, 
 His actions, sayings, mirth, and melancholy, 
 Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, 
 Will tell you how he wrote, and talked, and cough'd, 
 and spit. 
 
 119. — On S. Riunhold, 
 
 He lived one hundred and five, 
 Sanguine and strong ; 
 
 A hundred to five 
 You live not so long. 
 
40 EPITAPHS. 
 
 120. — On a Hen-pecked Squire, 
 
 As father Adam first was fool'd, 
 A case that 's still too common, 
 
 Here lies a man a woman ruled. 
 The devil ruled the woman. 
 
 121. — On a Wife, 
 I LAID my wife beneath this stone 
 For her repose and for my own. 
 
 122. — On Strange, a Lawyer, 
 Here lies an honest lawyer, that is Strange. 
 
 123. — On Sir Tho7nas Woodcock, Lord Mayor of 
 London, 1405. 
 
 HiC jacet Tom Shorthose, 
 
 Sine tomb, sine sheets, sine riches ; 
 
 Qui vixit sine gown, 
 Sine cloak, sine shirt, sine breeches ! 
 
 124. ^From the Greek, 
 
 At threescore winters' end I died, 
 A cheerless being, sole and sad ; 
 
 The nuptial knot I never tied. 
 And wish my father never had. 
 
EPITAPHS, 41 
 
 125. — On a Man 7iamed Fish, 
 
 Worms bait for fish ; but here 's a sudden change, 
 Fish is bait for worms — is not that passing strange ? 
 
 126. — On a Lady of good Sense, and great Merit, 
 
 The friend of genius, and of truth, 
 Here rests — beyond the reach of pain : 
 
 Here beauty Hes, and blooming youth — 
 Reflect — ye giddy, and ye vain ! 
 
 Why need the sculptured stone declare 
 That love and friendship held her dear, 
 
 Since none, who knew her, could forbear 
 The silent — but expressive tear ? 
 
 127. — On a Member of the Kildare Family, 
 
 Who killed Kildare ? who dared Kildare to kill ? 
 Death killed Kildare — who dare kill whom he will. 
 
 128. — Li the Churchyard of Winchester Cathedral, on 
 Thomas Thetcher, 
 
 Who died of a violent fever caused by drinking cold small-beer after a 
 quick march, May 2, 1764. 
 
 Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier, 
 Who caught his death by drinking cold small-beer : 
 Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall, 
 And when ye 're hot drink strong, or none at all. 
 
42 EPITAPHS, 
 
 129. — On Peter Areiin, 
 
 Here Aretin interred doth lie, 
 
 Whose satire lashed both high and low ! 
 His God alone it spared ; and why ? 
 
 His God, he said, he did not know. 
 
 130. — /;/ Ba7'net Churchy ai^d. 
 
 In hopes of a joyful Resurrection 
 
 at the last Day, Here lies the Body 
 
 of George Goldwire, who died July 6, 1753, 
 
 and what manner of man he was, 
 
 that Day will certainly discover. 
 
 131. — 071 a Yoimg Lady. 
 
 Beneath this stone a lump of clay, 
 
 Lies Arabella Young ; 
 Who on the 24th of May, 
 
 Began to hold her tongue. 
 
 1 3 2. — Epigrammatic Epitaph* 
 
 Beneath yon humble clod, at rest. 
 Lies Andrew, who, if not the best, 
 
 Was not the very worst man ; 
 A little rakish, apt to roam ; 
 But not so now, he 's quite at home, 
 
 For Andrew was a dustman. 
 
EPITAPHS, 43 
 
 133. — On Dr Sainuel Johnson,^ 
 
 To the magnanimous 
 
 Samuel Johnson, 
 
 a Grammarian and Critic, 
 
 Skilled in the Literature of Enghsh Writers, 
 
 An admirable Master of Poetry, in the Beauties 
 
 Of Sentences, and force of Expression, 
 
 Strict in Virtue, 
 
 One of the best of Men, and of singular Example. 
 
 He lived ^^ Years, 2 Months, and 14 Days. 
 
 He died on the Ides of December, A.c. 1784. 
 
 Was buried in St Peter's Abbey, Westminster, 
 
 13 Kalds of January, A.C. 1785. 
 
 His Friends, and learned Companions, 
 
 By Subscription, 
 
 Have caused this Monument to be erected. 
 
 * Written, it is said, by Dr Parr. 
 
 134. — 071 Isaac Greentree. 
 
 Beneath these green trees, rising to the skies. 
 The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies. 
 The time shall come when these green trees shall fall 
 And Isaac Greentree rise above them all ! 
 
 135. — At Pamswick^ Gloucestershire, 
 
 My time was come ! my days were spent ! 
 I was caird away— and away I went ! ! ! 
 
44 EPITAPHS, 
 
 136. — On a To7nh stone in a Churchyard in Ulster, 
 
 Erected to the memory of 
 
 John PhiUips, 
 
 Accidentally shot, 
 
 As a mark of affection by his Brother. 
 
 137. — /;/ Hanwiersfield Churchyard^ Suffolk^ on 
 Robert Cry toft ^ oh, 18 10, cet, 90. 
 
 As I walk'd by myself, I talked to myself. 
 
 And thus myself said to me : 
 Look to thyself, and take care of thyself, 
 
 For nobody cares for thee. 
 
 So I turn'd to myself, and I answered myself, 
 
 In the self-same reverie : 
 Look to myself, or look not to myself. 
 
 The self-same thing will it be. 
 
 138. — On a Punster, 
 
 Beneath the gravel and these stones, 
 Lies poor Jack Tiffey's skin and bones ;. 
 
 His flesh I oft have heard him say. 
 He hoped in time would make good hay ; 
 
 Quoth I, " How can that come to pass ? " 
 And he replied — " All flesh is grass" ! ! - 
 
EPITAPHS, 45 
 
 139. — On Dicky Pearce^ (?^. 1728, cet. (i'^i ^^^ Beckley 
 Church, 
 
 Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's fool, 
 Men caird him Dicky Pearce ; 
 
 His folly served to make men laugh, 
 When wit and mirth were scarce. 
 
 Poor Dick, alas ! is dead and gone, 
 
 What signifies to cry ? 
 Dickys enough are left behind 
 
 To laugh at by and by. 
 
 140. — In Worcester Churchyard, 
 
 Mammy and I together lived 
 Just two years and a half ; 
 
 She went first — I followed next, 
 The cow before the calf. 
 
 141. — In Ditchi?tgton Churchyard. 
 
 Without a home for ever, senseless, dumb, 
 Dust only now contains this silent tomb. 
 Where 'twas I lived or died, it matters not ; 
 To whom related, or of whom begot. 
 I was, but am not ; ask no more of me, 
 'Tis all I am, and all that you must be. 
 
46 EPITAPHS. 
 
 142. — On an Lifant^ in Belfrefs Churchy York, 
 How vain a thing is man 
 
 When God thinks meet 
 Oftimes with swadling clothes, 
 
 To join the winding-sheet : 
 A webb of forty weeks, 
 
 Spun forth in pain, 
 To his dear parents' grief 
 
 Soon ravelled out again. 
 This babe intomed 
 
 On the world did peepe, 
 Disliked it, closed his eyes, 
 
 Fell fast asleep. 
 Sept. I, 1708. 
 
 143. — On Margaret Gwyn, 
 
 Here lies the bones of Margaret Gwyn, 
 Who was so very pure within, 
 
 She cracked her outer shell of sin. 
 And hatched herself a Seraphin ! 
 
 144.— At St Ben7iet^s, PauVs Wharfs London, 
 
 Here lies one More, and no more than he. 
 
 One More and no more — how can that be ? 
 
 Why one More and no more may well lie here alone, 
 
 But here lies one More, and that's more than one. 
 
EPITAPHS, 47 
 
 145. — Lines on seeing a Tombstone in Hampstead 
 
 Churchyard inscribed, ^' To the Memory of , 
 
 itinerant linen-draperr 
 
 Cottons and cambricks, all adieu ! 
 
 And muslins, too, farewel ! 
 Plain, strip'd, or figured, old and new, 
 
 Three-quarters, yard, or ell ! 
 
 By yard and nail I Ve measured ye. 
 
 As customers inclined ; 
 The church-yard now has measur'd me, 
 
 And nails my coffin bind ! 
 
 But now, my kind and worthy friends, 
 
 Who dealt with me below, 
 I 'm gone to measure time's long ends ; 
 
 You ^Vi follow me, I know ! 
 
 146. — On My Four Wives, 
 
 To the memory of my four wives, who all died within 
 the space of ten years, but more pertickler to the last, 
 Mrs Sally Home, who has left me and four dear children ; 
 she was a good, sober^ and clean soul^ and may i soon go 
 to her. A.D. 1732. 
 
 Dear wives, if you and i shall all go to heaven. 
 The Lord be blest, for then we shall be even. 
 
 William Joy Home, carpenter. 
 
48 EPITAPHS. 
 
 147. — On a Deistical. Writer. 
 
 Beneath this sod a daring Author lies, 
 Who Heaven's protection in his works denies : 
 For novel systems rack'd his fruitful brain ; 
 For Reason strove, but strove, alas ! in vain. 
 Thus dreaming on, to self-conceit allied, 
 He liv'd in folly, and in ignorance died. 
 
 148. — O71 a?t inveterate Ak-D?'inker, 
 
 Here old John Randall lies, who telling of his tale, 
 Lived three score years and ten, such virtue was in ale ; 
 Ale was his meat, ale was his drink, ale did his heart 
 
 revive ; 
 And if he could have drunk his ale, he still had been 
 
 alive. 
 
 149. — In Pewsey C/mrch. 
 
 Here lies the body of 
 
 Lady O'Looney, 
 Great niece of Burke, commonly 
 Called the Sublime. 
 
 She was 
 Bland, passionate, and deeply religious ; 
 Also she painted in water-colours, 
 And sent several pictures to the Exhibition. 
 She was first-cousin to Lady Jones, 
 And of such is the kingdom of heaven. 
 
EPITAPHS. 49 
 
 150. — On Martha SnelL 
 
 Poor Martha Snell ! her's gone away, 
 Her would if her could, but her couldn't stay ; 
 Her'd two sore legs, and a badish cough, 
 But her legs it was as carried her off. 
 
 151. — On Thomas Boxer. 
 
 This ston his sacread to the memory of poer old Muster 
 Thomas Boxer, who was loste in the good boate Rouver, 
 just coming home with much fishes, got near Torbay, in 
 the yeare of hour Lord 1722. 
 
 Prey, goud fishermen, stop and drop a tear, 
 For we hav lost his company here; 
 And where he 's gone we cannot tell. 
 But we hope far from the wicked Bell."* 
 The Lord be with him. 
 
 ■^ A public-house that he frequented, to the annoyance of his family 
 
 Written in pencil on the stofie. — M. K. 
 
 152. — 07t a Young Ma?z killed when viewing a display 
 of Fireworks, 
 
 Here lies I, 
 Kiird by a sky- 
 Rocket in the eye. 
 
so EPITAPHS. 
 
 153. — Af Tavistocky Devon, " 
 
 Under this stone, lies three children dear, 
 Two be buried at Tawton, and the other here. 
 
 154. — On William Wilson^ Tailor — in Lambeth 
 Churchyard, 
 
 Here lies the body of W. W., 
 
 Who never more will trouble you, trouble you. 
 
 155. — At Lillinghamy Dorset, 
 
 I POORLY lived, I poorly died. 
 
 And when I was buried, nobody cried. 
 
 156. — On a Tombstone in Essex, 
 
 Here lies the man Richard, 
 
 And Mary his wife ; 
 Their surname was Prichard, 
 
 They lived without strife ; 
 And the reason was plain — 
 
 They abounded in riches, 
 They no care had, nor pain. 
 
 And the wife wore the breeches. 
 
EPITAPHS, 51 
 
 157. — In the Old Churchy Brighton^ Sussex, 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 Phcebe Hessel, 
 
 Who was born at Stepney in the year 1713. 
 
 She served for many years 
 
 as a Private Soldier, in the 5th Regiment of Foot, 
 
 in different parts of Europe ; 
 
 ^and, in the year 1745, fought under the command 
 
 of the Duke of Cumberland, 
 
 at the Battle of Fontenoy, 
 
 where she received a bayonet wound 
 
 In her arm. 
 
 Her long life, which commenced in the 
 
 reign of Queen Anne, extended to George IV., 
 
 by whose munificence she received 
 
 comfort and support in her latter years. 
 
 She died at Brighton, where she had long resided, 
 
 December 12th, 1821, 
 
 Aged 108 years. 
 
 158. — 071 an inhabitant of Brighton^ of the name of 
 LaWt who lost his life by a fall from the Cliffy 
 below the New Steine, 
 
 Stop ! reader, and reflect with awe, 
 For Sin and Death have conquered Law ! 
 Who in full hope resigned his breath. 
 That Grace had conquered Sin and Death. 
 
52 EPITAPHS, 
 
 159. — On John Adams ^ of Southwell^ a carrier^ who 
 died of Drtmkenness. 
 
 John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell, 
 A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well ; 
 He carried so much, and he carried so fast, 
 He could carry no more, so was carried at last ; 
 For the liquor he drunk, being too much for one, 
 He could not carry off — so he 's now carri-on ! 
 
 1 60. — On an Infajit. 
 
 This lovely bud, so young, so fair, 
 Caird hence by early doom, 
 
 Just came to show how sweet a flower 
 In Paradise would bloom. 
 
 161. — On John Ross ^Jersey, 
 Here lies John- Ross, 
 Kick'd by a hoss. 
 
 162. — Rebecca Foreland, oh. 1741, at Edwalton^ 
 Notts. 
 
 She drank good ale, good punch, and wine. 
 And liv'd to the age of ninety-nine. 
 
EPITAPHS, 53 
 
 163. — Oji a Scolding Wife. 
 
 Here lies my wife, — poor Molly ! let her lie, — 
 She finds repose at last — and so do I. 
 
 164. — In Cirencester Churchyard. 
 
 Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast, 
 Physic their cobblers, and Death their last. 
 
 165. — On an Infant. 
 
 Beneath this stone lies our dear child, 
 
 Who 's gone away from we, 
 
 For evermore into eternity ; 
 
 Where we do hope that us shall go to he. 
 
 But him can never come back to we. 
 
 166. — On a Man who was too Poor to he Buried with 
 his Relations i7i the Church at Kingshridge. 
 
 Here lie I, at the chancel door. 
 Here I lie because I 'm poor ; 
 The further in, the more to pay. 
 Here lie I as warm as they. 
 
54 
 
 EPITAPHS, 
 
 167. — On a great Eater, 
 
 Walk gently here, and make no fuss, 
 For wake him, and he 11 eat up us. 
 
 168.— (9/^ a Barren Woman, 
 
 Here lies the body of barren Peg, 
 
 Who had no issue but one in her leg ; 
 
 But while she was living she was so cunning, 
 
 That when one stood still, the other was running. 
 
 169. — On an Old Maid. 
 
 Tabby, immaculate and pure. 
 
 Who liv'd a spotless maid. 
 From man ne'er thought herself secure. 
 
 Till in her coffin laid. 
 
 Full threescore years she stood the test 
 
 Of all our sex's art ; 
 Not one could warm her icy breast. 
 
 Or melt her frozen heart ! 
 
 Tho' long she kept her virgin state, 
 
 Death ravished her at last ; 
 She struggled^ but, O cruel fate, 
 
 He held poor Tabby fast ! 
 
EPITAPHS, 55 
 
 170. — On Two Children, 
 
 To the Memory of Emma and Maria Littleboy, 
 
 the twin-children of 
 
 George and Emma Littleboy of Hornsey, 
 
 who died July 16, 1783. 
 
 Two little boys lie here, 
 
 Yet strange to say, 
 These little boys are girls. 
 
 171. — Oji a Country Cobbler, 
 
 [Written over the Grave of the Deceased a Month after his Interment.] 
 
 Beneath this green hillock lies honest Dick Hall, 
 Whose service was courted by fair, brown, nay, all ; 
 For his life was employed, to keep, in foul weather, 
 All harm from your feet, by the strength of his leather ; 
 His wax was so smooth, his ends were so strong. 
 His workmanship good, and so pleasing his song, 
 That some neighbours would oft at his stall listen hours. 
 To hear " Derry Down,'' " Hearts of Oak," " Social 
 
 Powers ; " 
 And, tho' it seems strange, yet for truth 'tis well known, 
 He'd repair other's soles, but neglected his own ; 
 Yet, wishing the future might better the past. 
 He lived fifty years, and then — death took his last. 
 
56 EPITAPHS, 
 
 172. — Tra7islation of a French Epitaph. 
 
 Interred here a son doth he, 
 As hkewise doth the mother ; 
 
 A sister too doth lay close by, 
 And near her lays the brother. 
 
 The father, by the daughter's side, 
 
 Is turning into clay ; 
 The husband by his loving bride 
 
 Does moulder too away. 
 
 The number seems to eight to mount. 
 As you may plainly see ; 
 
 Yet sum them all in one account. 
 They make no more than three. 
 
 SOLUTION. 
 
 The son being married to his mother, they 
 
 became 
 
 Husband and wife, 
 
 Whose offspring was 
 
 A daughter. 
 
 The man and woman dying, caused 
 
 A son and mother. 
 
 An husband and wife, 
 
 To be laid in one grave : 
 
 The daughter dying. 
 
 By being buried in the same grave. 
 
 Made an addition of 
 
 The sister and daughter. 
 
 As specified in the epitaph. 
 
EPITAPHS, 57 
 
 173. — In Cunwallow Churchyard^ ConiwalL 
 
 [Can be read backwards or forwards.] 
 
 Shall we all die, 
 
 We shall die all, 
 All die shall we, 
 
 Die all we shall. 
 
 174. — On Tom DUrfey, in St fames' Church, 
 Piccadilly, 
 
 Here lies the Lyric, who, with tale and song, 
 Did life to three score years and ten prolong ; 
 His tale was pleasant, and his song was sweet, 
 His heart was cheerful, but his thirst was great. 
 Grieve, reader, grieve, that he too soon grew old- 
 His song is ended, and his tale is told. 
 
 175. — On John Parson* 
 
 Here lieth the bodye of 
 
 John Parson, 
 
 the only sonne of 
 
 WiUiam Parson of Salvington, 
 
 Who was buried the fouerth day of March 1633. 
 
 Youthe was his age, 
 
 Virginitie his state, 
 Learning his love, 
 Consumption his fate. 
 
58 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 176. — 071 a Favourite Dog, 
 
 Thus Phillis fell, to all that lov'd her dear, 
 She justly claimed the tributary tear ; 
 Soft was her coat as down, and smooth as silk, 
 A few red spots excepted, white as milk. 
 
 The fairest she of all the faithful kind, 
 Where beauty shone with nature's sweetness join'd ; 
 Just was her conduct, all her actions right, 
 Sincere and faithful, courteous and polite. 
 
 Full fourteen years she liv'd in perfect ease, 
 Bless'd with a form, and evVy art to please ; 
 Who never failed, on each revolving day, 
 To show her joy, and grateful homage pay : 
 The loss of so great worth we now deplore. 
 Since Phillis, lovely Phillis ! is no more ! 
 
 177. — To Edward Thomas Sheep, of Cloudesley Square, 
 
 Here lies a sheep. 
 The stone speaks true. 
 For a dead sheep is mutton. 
 
 178. — In Grantham Churchyard, 
 
 John Palfreyman, who is buried here. 
 Was aged four-and-twenty year ; 
 And near this place his mother lies, 
 Likewise his father — when he dies. 
 
EPITAPHS, 59 
 
 179. — 071 a Tall Man in the Churchyard 
 at Poole, 
 
 As long as long can be, 
 So long so long was he. 
 How long how long did say ? 
 As long as long as May. 
 
 180. — At Edinburgh, 
 
 John MTherson 
 
 Was a wonderful person ; 
 
 He stood 6 ft. 2 without his shoe, 
 
 And he was slew 
 
 At Waterloo. 
 
 181. — On a Quarrelsome Man. 
 
 Beneath this stone lies one whose life 
 Was spent in quarrels, and in strife. 
 Wake not his spirit from its rest. 
 For when he slept the world was blest. 
 
 182. — On a Child, 
 
 The child that sleeps within this silent tomb, 
 Departed at the end of two short years : 
 
 Many will wish when the great Judge shall come. 
 They 'd liv'd no longer in this vale of tears. 
 
6o EPITAPHS, 
 
 183. — In Thetford Churchyard, 
 
 My grandfather lies buried here, 
 
 My cousin Jane, and two uncles dear ; 
 
 My father perished with inflammation in the thighs, 
 
 And my sister dropt down dead in the Minories. 
 
 But the reason I 'm here interr'd, according to my 
 
 thinking, 
 Is owing to my good living and hard drinking ; 
 If therefore, good Christians, you wish to live long, 
 Don't drink too much wine, brandy, gin, or anything 
 strong. 
 
 184. — In Hampton Churchyard, on 
 M7's An7i Rossoman, 
 
 Be sacred here, — the dust that lies below ! 
 Which once with fair Creation's taints did glow ; 
 Where Nature all her richest treasures spread ; 
 Beauty and Virtue,— now, alas ! they 're fled — 
 The wreck of Beauty lies sepulchred here, 
 But Virtue shines in its immortal sphere. 
 
 185. — On a7t Infant 
 
 Just with her lips the cup of life she prest, 
 Found the taste bitter, and declined the rest, 
 Averse then turning from the face of day, 
 She softly sigh'd her little soul away. 
 
EPITAPHS. 6 1 
 
 1 8 6. — In Staplehiirsi Churchyard, Ke7it, 
 
 A MAN is born — alas ! and what is man ? 
 A scuttle full of dust — a breath—a span — 
 A vale of tears — a vessel turned with breath, 
 By sickness broach'd, and drawn off by death. 
 
 187.-— 6^/2 Hamia, Wife of George Onions, 
 
 She was 
 
 But words are wanting to say what. 
 Look what a wife should be. 
 And she was that. 
 
 8. — On Peter Izod, Parish-Clerk of Crayford, Kent. 
 
 The life of this clerk was just three score and ten, 
 During half of which time he had sung out Amen. 
 He married when young, like other young men ; 
 His wife died one day, so he chanted Amen. 
 A second he took, she departed — what then ? 
 He married, and buried a third with Amen. 
 Thus his joys and his sorrows were treble, but then 
 His voice was deep bass, as he chanted Amen. 
 On the horn he could blow as well as most men, 
 But his horn was exalted in blowing Amen. 
 He lost all his wind after three score and ten, 
 And here with three wives he waits till agen 
 The trumpet shall raise him to sing out Amen. 
 
62 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 189. — On Tho77ias Halliday, aged 23. 
 
 How lov'd, how valued once, avails thee not, 
 
 To whom related, or by whom begot ; 
 
 A heap of dust alone remains of me, 
 
 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be. 
 
 190. — On a Sexton, 
 
 Hurrah ! my brave boys, let 's rejoice at his fall, 
 For if he had lived, he had buried us all. 
 
 191. — On Thomas Fox, 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 Mr Thomas Fox, 
 
 of 352, Oxford Street, who was 
 
 unfortunately killed by falling into the 
 
 machinery of the Royal Sovereign 
 
 steam-packet, 
 
 during an excursion to the Nore, 
 
 on the 22d July 1825, 
 
 Aged 26 years. 
 
 192. — On Matthias Mitchell^ aged 22. 
 
 No warning given unceremonious fate ; 
 A sudden push from life's meridian joy ! 
 
EPITAPHS. 63 
 
 193. — On General Wolfe, 
 
 Inscription to the Memory of 
 
 General Wolfe, 
 
 Slain in the Service of his Country at Quebec, in 
 
 North America. 
 
 If nobly fighting in a nation's cause. 
 
 And bravely dying to maintain its laws ; 
 
 If great exertion, honesty of heart. 
 
 And all the zeal true courage can impart ; 
 
 If these can make the laureate hero shine. 
 
 These, Wolfe, were thine, pre-eminently thine. 
 
 Too early lost — yet glory crown'd thy days. 
 
 And fame grows hoarse, unequal to thy praise. 
 
 But, oh ! thy death, illustrious chief, destroys 
 
 The sudden burst of universal joys ; 
 
 Our patriot king in pity drops a tear. 
 
 And mourns a conquest that was bo'ught so dear. 
 
 Oh ! let the muse thy fortitude proclaim, 
 
 And on thy tomb thus register thy name ; 
 
 " Here lies brave Wolfe, who fought on freedom's 
 
 side. 
 Bled for his King, and vanquished tho' he died." 
 
 194. — On Gay, 
 
 [Written by himself.] 
 
 Life is a jest, and all things show it ; 
 I thought so once, and now I know it. 
 
64 EPITAPHS. 
 
 195. — Oji Isaac Reed, 
 
 Reader of these four lines take heed, 
 And mend your life for my sake ; 
 
 For you must die, like Isaac Reed, 
 Tho' you read till your eyes ache ! 
 
 196. — On Dr Sheridan, 
 
 Beneath this marble stone there lies 
 Poor Tom, more merry much than wise. 
 Who only lived for two great ends, — 
 To spend his cash, and lose his friends. 
 His darling wife, of him bereft. 
 Is only grieved — there 's nothing left. 
 
 197. — Spanish Epitaph, 
 
 The following is a singular epitaph : — " Here lies Don 
 Martin John Barbuda, Grand-Master of Alcantara, who 
 never knew what fear was." 
 
 Charles V. of Germany, on reading the conceited lines, 
 remarked that Don Martin had probably never snuffed 
 a candle with his finders. 
 
 198.-— (9;^ Sir John Vanhrugh^ Architect, 
 
 Lie heavy on him, Earth, for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee. 
 
EPITAPHS, 65 
 
 199. — On Richard Holmes and Alice his Wife, 
 
 Deny'd a father's hope, a mother's prayer, 
 Their last sad griefs to soothe, their sighs to share ; 
 Restrained from mourning o'er their hallow'd bier, 
 And on their loved remains to shed a tear ; 
 Yet shall this humble stone remain to prove 
 Parental tenderness, and filial love. 
 
 200. — At Saint Agnes ^ Cornwall, 
 
 Here lies the body of Joan Carthew, 
 Born at Saint Columb, died at St Cue ; 
 Children she had five, 
 Three are dead, and two alive ; 
 Those that are dead chusing rather 
 To die with their mother than live with their 
 father. 
 
 201. — On Sir Isaac Newton, 
 
 Under this sacred marble Newton lies. 
 
 Whose genius compass'd earth, and sea, and skies, 
 
 Coloured the light, and saw the chain that bound 
 
 Reluctant planets in their measured round : 
 
 To ev'ry law of nature strictly just. 
 
 He d/d, and helps attraction with his dust. 
 
66 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 202. — On a Slovenly Woman, 
 
 Here lies my poor wife, a sad slattern and shrew ; 
 If I said I regretted her, I should lie too. 
 
 203. — On a Country Innkeeper, 
 
 Hark ! hark ye, old friend ! what, wilt pass then 
 without 
 
 Taking notice of honest plump Jack ? 
 You see how ^tis with me, my light is burnt out, 
 
 And they Ve laid me here flat on my back. 
 That light in my nose, once so bright to behold. 
 
 That light is extinguished at last ; 
 And I 'm now put to bed in the dark and the cold, 
 
 With wicker and so forth made fast. 
 But now, wilt oblige me ? then call for a quart 
 
 Of the best, from the house o'er the way ; 
 ' Drink a part on't thyself, on my grave pour a part, 
 
 And walk on, — Friend, I wish thee good day. 
 
 204. — In St John^s Churchy Chester^ 07i a Swift- 
 footed Man, 
 
 Here lies the swift racer, so famed for his running. 
 In spite of his boasting, his swiftness, and cunning, 
 In leaping o'er ditches, and skipping o'er fields, 
 Death soon overtook him, and tript up his heels. 
 

 EPITAPHS. 
 
 67 \ 
 
 205. — 
 
 On Elizabeth^ Wife of Mr George Allaker 
 Great Totham, 
 
 [An Acrostic-] 
 
 of 
 
 E 
 
 ntomb'd beneath this verdant mound, 
 
 
 L 
 
 ies her once loved by all around : 
 
 
 I 
 
 n duty^s course she walk'd until 
 
 
 Z eal scarce left duties to fulfil ! 
 
 
 A nd though her husband, left behind, 
 
 
 B 
 
 emoans a partner true and kind, — 
 
 
 E ach of her offspring weeping, too, 
 
 
 T 
 
 find how Death can them undo, — 
 
 
 H 
 
 A 
 
 er well-spent life, of that the thought, 
 
 
 A Hay all sorrow, sure, it ought : 
 
 L ose what we may, much grief betrays 
 
 L ess trust in Him we still should praise !- 
 
 A 11 vice, oh ! Reader, e'er eschew ; 
 
 K eep still the " promised land '^ in view. 
 
 E nliv'ning thought ! 'twill you ensure 
 
 R est e'er with Jesus and the pure ! 
 
 206. — l7t Alresford Churchyard^ Hants ^ on 
 an Excisei7ian, 
 
 No supervisor's check he fears — 
 Now no commissioner obeys ; 
 
 He 's free from cares, entreaties, tears, 
 And all the heavenly orb surveys. 
 
6S 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 20 J, — On a Baker. 
 
 Here lies Dick, a baker by trade, 
 Who was always in business praised ; 
 
 And here snug he Hes, in his oven, 'tis said, 
 In hopes that his bread may be raised. 
 
 208. — On a Woodman^ at Ockham^ Surrey^ ^1Z^» 
 
 The Lord saw good, I was lopping wood. 
 
 And down fell from the tree ; 
 I met with a check, and broke my neck. 
 
 And so death lopp'd off me. 
 
 209 . — On John Trej^rey, Esq, 
 
 Here in this Chancell do I lye, 
 Known by the name of John Treffrey, 
 Being made and born for to die : 
 So must thou, friend, as well as I. 
 Therefore good works be sure to try, 
 . But chiefly Love and Charity ; 
 And still on them with Faith rely. 
 So be happy eternally. 
 
 Soli Deo gloria. 
 
 This was put up during his life, being a whimsical man. 
 He had his grave dug, and lay down and swore in it, to show 
 the sexton a novelty — /. ^., a man swearing in his grave. 
 
EPITAPHS. 
 
 69 
 
 210. — O71 a Pin-maker. 
 
 Here lies Will Sharpless. O most cruel death ! 
 Why didst thou rob Will Sharpless of his breath ? 
 He, in his lifetime, scraping one poor pin, 
 Made better dust than thou canst make of him. 
 
 211. — In Wolverhampton Church. Ob. 1690. 
 
 Here lies the bones 
 
 Of Joseph Jones, 
 Who eat whilst he was able ; 
 
 But once overfed, 
 
 He dropp'd down dead, 
 And fell beneath the table. 
 
 When from the tomb. 
 
 To meet his doom, 
 He rises amidst sinners ; 
 
 Since he must dwell 
 
 In heav'n or hell, 
 Take him — which gives best dinners ! 
 
 212. — 0?i Tonimy Day. 
 
 Here lies little Tommy Day, 
 Removed from over the way. 
 
 213. — On Captain Stone. 
 As the earth the earth doth cover. 
 So under this stone lies another. 
 
70 EPITAPHS. 
 
 214. — On a7i Undertaker, 
 
 Here lies Bob Master. Faith ! 'twas very hard, 
 To take away our honest Robin's breath ; 
 
 Yet surely Robin was full well prepared, 
 For he was always looking out for death. 
 
 215. — On W, M. Caulfield. 
 
 Sacred to the Memory of 
 
 Master William Moore Caulfield, 
 
 who died March 23, 1783, not quite sixteen. 
 
 And art thou gone ? ah, much lam.ented youth, 
 Endow'd with varied powers and manly truth ! 
 Oh ! what a soul, and what a form divine ; 
 Thy pen as tuneful as the sacred Nine ; 
 Thy pencil caught each attribute of life, 
 And Art with Nature toiFd in friendly strife ! 
 Thy filial piety with lucid beam 
 Glanced like the orb of day's resplendent gleam ; 
 Cheering such parents as for worth might vie 
 With cherub'd Angels in yon azure sky ! 
 — No longer mourn the much loved Willy's fate, 
 With joy behold his bless'd immortal state. 
 View him enthroned with Seraphims above. 
 Praising with lays divine his Maker's love. 
 Loud Hallelujahs from the heavenly Choirs 
 Resound dear Caulfield's name with warbling lyres. 
 
EPITAPHS. 71 
 
 21 6. — On Nell Batchelour^ the Oxford Pie-woman, 
 
 Here into the dust 
 
 The mouldering crust 
 Of Eleanor Batchelour 's shoven, 
 
 Well versed in the arts 
 
 Of pies, custards, and tarts, 
 And the lucrative skill of the oven. 
 
 When she 'd lived long enough. 
 
 She made her last puff — 
 A puff by her husband much praised ; 
 
 Now here she does lie. 
 
 And makes a dirt pie, 
 In hopes that her crust may be raised ! 
 
 217. — On a Coachman^ the Driver of the Coach that 
 ran between Aylesbury and London, 
 
 Parker, farewell \ thy journey now is ended. 
 Death has the whip-hand, and with dust's blended ; 
 Thy way-bill is examined, and I trust, 
 Thy last account may prove exact and just. 
 When He who drives the chariot of the day, 
 Where life is light, whose Word 's the living way, 
 Where travellers, like yourself, of every age. 
 And every clime, have taken their last stage-^ 
 The God of Mercy, and the God of Love, 
 Show you the road Xo Paradise above ! 
 
72 EPITAPHS. 
 
 218. — On Sir Isaac Newton, 
 
 ISAACUS Newtonius : 
 
 Quern immortalem 
 
 Testantur Tempus, Natura, Coelum : 
 
 Mortalem 
 
 Hoc M armor fatetur. 
 
 Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night : 
 
 God said, Let Newton be ! and all was light. 
 
 The extravagance of the compliment in these two lines gave 
 
 birth to the following sarcastic couplets : — 
 
 If Newton/s existence enlightened the whole, 
 
 What part of expansion inhabits the fool ? 
 
 If life had been total, as Pope has averr'd, 
 
 J. T. had been right, for he could not have erred : 
 
 But Pope has his faults, so excuse a young spark, 
 
 Bright Newton's deceased, and we're all in the dark. 
 
 219. — 071 Sir William Curtis, 
 Here hes William Curtis, late our Lord Mayor, 
 Who has left this here world and gone to that there. 
 
 220. — On two Children of a Ckimney-sweeJ>, in Old 
 Camberwell Churchyard, 
 
 Their ashes and this little dust 
 Their father's care shall keep, 
 
 Till the last angel rise and break 
 Their long and dreary sleep. 
 
EPITAPHS, 73 
 
 2 21. — On Edward Morgan^ who died i?i 1828, at 
 Saint Bride's Minor ^ Glamorgansliire, 
 O Earth ! O Earth ! observe this well, 
 That earth to earth must come to dwell ; 
 Then earth in earth shall close remain, 
 Till earth from earth shall rise again. 
 
 222. — Li Christ Church Churchyard^ Hants ^ supposed 
 to allude to teji persons drowned^ whose bodies were 
 driven on shore^ aiid buried in afield; bict the owner 
 considering it an invasio7i on his pjvperty, dug them 
 up J when they were removed to the Churchyard. 
 
 We were not slain ; but raised : 
 
 Raised not to life, 
 But to be buried twice, 
 
 By men of strife. 
 What rest could living have, 
 
 When dead had none ? 
 Agree amongst you, 
 
 Here we ten are one. 
 
 Henry Rogers died April 17, 1764. 
 
 223. — 071 a Coroner who Hanged himself. 
 
 He lived and died 
 'By suicide. 
 
74 EPITAPHS. 
 
 224. — On Dr Mounsey, Physician to Chelsea Hospital. 
 
 Here lie my old bones ; my vexation now ends : 
 I have lived much too long for myself and my 
 
 friends. 
 As to churches and churchyards, which man may 
 
 call holy, 
 'Tis a rank piece of witchcraft, and founded in 
 
 folly. 
 What the next world may be, never troubled my 
 
 pate ; 
 And be what it may, I beseech you, O Fate ! 
 When the bodies of millions rise up in a riot. 
 To let the old carcase of Mounsey be quiet. 
 
 225. — Oji Sir John Guise. 
 
 Here lies 
 Sir John Guise ; 
 No one laughs, 
 No one cries ; 
 Where he is gone. 
 And how he fares, 
 No one knows. 
 And no one cares. 
 
 226,— In Kingston Churchyard, Haiits, 
 Live well — Die never. 
 Die well — Live for ever. 
 
EPITAPHS. 75 
 
 227. — On the Marquis of Anglesed s Leg, 
 Here lies, — and let no saucy knave 
 
 Presume to sneer or laugh, 
 To learn, that mould'ring in this cave 
 
 Is laid a British calf. 
 For he who writes these lines is sure 
 
 That those who read the whole, 
 Would find that laugh were premature, 
 
 For here, too, lies a sole. 
 . And here five little ones repose, 
 
 Twin born with other five, 
 Unheeded by their brother toes, 
 
 Who now are all alive. 
 A leg and foot, to speak more plain, 
 
 Rest here of one commanding ; 
 And though his wits he may retain, 
 
 Lost half his understanding. 
 Who, when the guns, with thunder fraught, 
 
 Pour'd bullets thick as hail. 
 Could only in this way be brought 
 
 To give the foe leg-bail. 
 And now in England, just as gay 
 
 As in the battle brave, 
 Goes to the rout, review, or play, 
 
 With one foot in the grave. 
 Fortune, indeed, has shown her spite. 
 
 For he will still be found, 
 Should England's foes engage in fight, 
 
 Resolved to stand his ground : 
 
-j^ EPITAPHS, 
 
 And but indulged in harmless whim, 
 Since he could walk with one, 
 
 She saw two legs were lost on him, 
 Who never deign'd to run. 
 
 228. — I?i St Giles* Churchyard^ Northampton, 
 
 Here lies a most dutiful daughter, honest and just, 
 Awaiting the resurrection in hopes^ to be one of the 
 first. 
 
 229. — Li Darky Churchyard^ Derbyshire^ to the 
 Memory of Four Sisters, who died shortly after 
 each other, the eldest being Twenty^ the you?igest 
 Nineteen, 
 
 Ye thoughtless youth, who now so gaily tread 
 O'er the dark mansions of the solemn dead. 
 Pause here awhile, beneath this awful tomb ; 
 Here lieth four, cut off in beauty's bloom, 
 Who once, like you, possess'd each winning grace, 
 Each sweet attraction both of mind and face ; 
 Scarcely attain'd to life's fair smiling day. 
 Ere the dread fiat summon'd them away, 
 Like some fair flow'r, who native charms adorn, 
 And give fresh verdure to the verdant morn, 
 Blooms for awhile, till cold inclement skies 
 Nip the fair plant, it sickens, droops, and dies. 
 
EPITAPHS, J7 
 
 230. — In Hoc/tester Churchyard, 
 
 Though young she was, 
 
 Her youth could not withstand, 
 Nor her protect from Death's 
 
 Imperial hand. 
 Life is a cobweb, be we e'er so gay. 
 
 And death a broom. 
 That sweeps us all away. 
 
 231. — On a Landlady. 
 
 Assigned by Providence to rule a tap. 
 
 My days pass'd glibly, till an awkward rap. 
 
 Some way, like bankruptcy, impell'd me down. 
 
 But up I got again and shook my gown 
 
 In gamesome gambols, quite as brisk as ever, 
 
 Blithe as the lark, and gay as sunny weather ; 
 
 Composed with creditors, at five in pound. 
 
 And frolicked on till laid beneath this ground. 
 
 The debt of Nature must, you know, be paid. 
 
 No trust from her — God grant extent in aid I 
 
 232.- — On a Talkative Old Maid. (1750.) 
 
 Beneath this silent stone is laid 
 A noisy antiquated maid. 
 Who from her cradle talk'd till death, 
 And ne'er before was out of breath. 
 
78 EPITAPHS. 
 
 233. — On Twin Sisters, who died at the same time, 
 and were bttried i7i one Grave, 
 
 Fair marble ! tell to future days 
 
 That here two virgin sisters lie, 
 Whose lives employ'd each tongue in praise, 
 
 Whose deaths gave tears to ev'ry eye. 
 In stature, beauty, years, and form, 
 
 Together as they grew they shone ; 
 So much alike, so much the same, 
 
 That death mistook them both for one ! 
 
 234. — On Tho7nas Kemp, who was Hanged for 
 Sh eep-stealing. 
 
 Here lies the body of Thomas Kemp, 
 Who lived by wool, but died by hemp ; 
 There 's nothing would suffice this glutton, 
 But, with the fleece, to steal the mutton ; 
 Had he but work'd, and lived uprighter. 
 He 'd ne'er been hung for a sheep biter. 
 
 235. — In Hampshire, 
 
 Here lies poor Teddy ; 
 
 Death took his hand, and said he, 
 
 Oh! oh! John. 
 
EPITAPHS, 79 
 
 236. — On Robert Dodd, Glazier^ who died from the 
 mortification of a wound occasioned by accidentally 
 falling amongst broken glass. 
 
 Stranger, or friend, whose feet shall haply tread, 
 Above the chambers of the mould'ring dead, 
 If youth and modest innocence be thine, 
 Welcome, fair pilgrim, to the instructive shrine ; 
 Think, by no warning was I ta'en away, 
 Prepare ! prepare ! this might be your last day ! 
 
 237. — On Judge Boat. 
 
 Here lies Judge Boat within a coffin, 
 Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing ; 
 A boat duftidge I Yes, where 's the blunder, 
 A wooden judge is no such wonder ! 
 And in his robes, you must agree. 
 No boat was better deckt than he. 
 'Tis needless to describe him fuller, 
 In short, he was an able sen Her. 
 
 22^^, — On a great Eater, 
 
 Whoe'er you are, tread softly, I entreat you, 
 For if he chance to wake, be sure he '11 eat you. 
 
8o EPITAPHS, 
 
 239. — Curious Epitaph. 
 
 Two grandmothers, with their two grand-daughters ; 
 
 Two husbands with their two wives ; 
 
 Two fathers, with their two daughters; 
 
 Two mothers, with their two sons ; 
 
 Two maidens, with their two mothers ; 
 
 Two sisters, with their two brothers ; 
 
 Yet but six corpse in all lye buried here, 
 
 All born in wedlock, and from incest clear. 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 Two of these six must be men. It will make the 
 solution easier to give them names : Elizabeth, John, 
 and Sally ; Anne, Thomas, and Suky. Elizabeth and 
 Anne of different families, only allied by their second 
 marriage. Elizabeth by a first husband had John ; and 
 afterwards married Thomas, and by him had Suky. Anne 
 by a first husband had Thomas ; and afterwards married 
 John, and by him had Sally. 
 
 The two grandii .others were, Elizabeth and Anne ; 
 their two grandaughter^:•, Sally and Suky. 
 
 The two husbands, J'^hn and Thomas; their two 
 wives, Elizabeth anc^ Anne, 
 
 The wo fathers, John and Thomas; their two 
 daughters, Saliy and Suky. 
 
 The two n. ^*h ,^i ., Ehzabeth and Anne ; their two 
 sons, John and T.<;omas. 
 
 The two maidens, Sally and Suky ; their two mothersj 
 Elizabeth and Anne. 
 
EPITAPHS. 8i 
 
 The two sisters, Sally and Suky ; their two brothers, 
 John and Thomas : for Suky is half-sister to John, and 
 Sally half-sister to Thomas. 
 
 First Husband = Elizabeth = Thomas, 
 
 Second Husband 
 
 I 
 
 John = Anne Suky 
 
 Sally 
 
 First Husband = Anne = John, 
 
 Second Husband 
 
 Thomas = Elizabeth' Sally 
 
 I 
 
 Suky 
 
 2 40. — 071 Edward Edwards, 
 
 To the Memory of 
 
 Edward Edwards, Esq., 
 
 Royal Associate. 
 
 Upright as Truth, in sentiment and mind ; 
 In fortune only, not in soul confined ; 
 Like Pope, his form was not in beauty drest, 
 His perfect symmetry was in his breast ; 
 
82 EPITAPHS, 
 
 A friend sincere to those who shared his love, 
 For they were such his goodness could approve 
 Music his pleasure, and the Arts his pride, 
 In spirit independent, lived and died ! 
 
 241. — 071 Dr Fuller, 
 Here Hes Fuller's earth. 
 
 242. — On Mr G, Granville, 
 
 He who first gave a stamp. 
 And eke gave a damp, 
 
 To ev'ry American limb, 
 Is now paid in coin. 
 He is shot through the loin. 
 
 And death 's put a stamp upon him. 
 
 Nick Nankeedoodle, 
 
 243. — On William Willing, 
 
 Death will'd that Willing here should lie, 
 Although unwilHng he to die. 
 
EPITAPHS, 83 
 
 244. — On a Candled 
 
 A WICKED one lies buried here, 
 
 Who died in a decline ; 
 He never rose in wealth, I fear. 
 
 Though he was born to shine. 
 
 He once was fat, but now, indeed. 
 
 He ^s thin as any griever ; 
 He died, the doctors all agreed, 
 
 Of a most burning fever. 
 
 One thing of him is said with truth. 
 With which I 'm much amused. 
 
 It is, that when he stood, forsooth, 
 A stick he always used. 
 
 Now winding-sheets he sometimes made, 
 
 But this was not enough, 
 For finding it a poorish trade, 
 
 He also dealt in snuff. 
 
 If e'er you said, " Go out, I pray,'' 
 
 He much ill-nature show'd ; 
 On such occasions he would say, 
 
 "Vy, if I do, TmblowU'' 
 
 In this his friends do all agree. 
 Although you '11 think I 'm joking, 
 
 When going out, 'tis said that he 
 Was very fond of smoking. 
 
84 EPITAPHS. 
 
 Since all religion he despised, 
 Let these few words suffice,' 
 
 Before he ever was baptized, 
 They dipp'd him once or twice. 
 
 245. — /;/ the Chttrchyard of Sevm Oaks, Ke?tf. 
 
 Grim death took me without any warning, 
 
 I was well at night, and dead at nine in the morning. 
 
 246. — In West Grinstead Churchyard, Sussex. 
 
 Vast strong was I, but yet did dye, 
 And in my grave asleep I lye ; 
 My grave is stean'd round about, 
 Yet I hope the Lord will find me out. 
 
 247. — On a Liar, 
 
 Good passenger, here lies one here 
 That living did lie everywhere. 
 
 248. — On Joan Triieman, who had a?z issue in 
 
 her leg. 
 
 Here lies crafty Joan, deny it who can. 
 Who lived a false maid, and died a Trueman ; 
 And this trick she had, to make up her cunning. 
 Whilst one leg stood still the other was running. 
 
EPITAPHS. %^ 
 
 249. — On a Porter, 
 
 At length by works of wondrous fate, 
 
 Here lies the porter of Winchester gate. . 
 
 If gone to heaven, as much I fear. 
 
 He can be but a porter there ; 
 
 He fear'd not hell, so much for's sin. 
 
 As for the great rapping and oft coming in. 
 
i 
 
EPIGRAMS. 
 
EPIGRAMS. 
 
 >-♦ » ♦ ■ < ■ 
 
 -From a Lady to a Squinting Coxcomb who much 
 annoyed her. 
 
 If Argus be the poet's prize, 
 Who looked with just one hundred eyes, 
 How much vsxoxQ praise to you is due, 
 Who look a hmtdred ways with two. 
 
 2. — Epigram upon an Epigram. 
 
 One day in Chelsea meadows walking, 
 Of poetry and such things talking. 
 
 Says Tom, a merry wag, 
 " An epigram, if smart and good, 
 In all its circumstances, should 
 
 Be like a jelly-bag." 
 
 " Your simile, I own, is new, 
 
 But how '11 you make it out ? '' says Hugh. 
 
 Says Tom, " I '11 tell thee, friend ;— 
 Make it at bottom rounds and fit 
 To hold a budget-full of wit^ 
 hiApohit it at the end,^^ 
 
90 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 3. — Epigram. 
 
 Cried Dick to Will, "I doubt, my friend, 
 Poor Robin ^s very near his end ; 
 Three doctors now attend his bed.'' 
 " Three doctors ! " Will with wonder said, 
 ^^ He then is number'd with the dead/' 
 
 4. — On Milt 071^ a Livery Stable Keeper, 
 
 Two Miltons in separate ages were born, 
 The cleverer Milton 'tis clear we have got. 
 
 Though the other had talents the world to adorn. 
 This lives by his Mews (muse), the other could not 
 
 'Literal Epigram to the Author of a poor Sonnet 
 on the river Dee, 
 
 Had I, sir, been U, 
 
 And quite in the Q, 
 As 'twould have been easy to B, 
 
 I 'd soon let you C, 
 
 Whilst sipping my T, 
 By far better lines on the D. 
 
 6. — On Swearing, 
 
 Weak is the excuse that is on custom built, 
 The use of sinning lessens not the guilt. 
 
EPIGRAMS, 91 
 
 7, — Impromptu, on seei7ig an Acquaintance with a 
 Shabby Coat, 
 
 I MET a friend the other day, 
 Whose coat was rather CD; 
 
 When told, no wonder, you will say, ' 
 His pockets were quite M T. 
 
 8.- — On Charity, 
 
 What numbers, once in fortune's lap high fed, 
 Solicit the cold hand of charity ! — 
 To shock us more, solicit it in vain. 
 
 9. — Epigra^n, 
 
 " How is it, my friend, that 
 Wherever I stray. 
 Mine ears are regaled with 
 A jack-ass's bray ? '' 
 
 " Why, the reason 's most plain, 
 Birds of a feather 
 Have always been known, sir, 
 To flock together." 
 
92 EPIGRAMS, ' 
 
 10. — A Trice Irishman : an Old Joke Versified, 
 
 Pat at a mirror stood, with eyes 
 
 Close shut ; when one, in great surprise, 
 
 Exclaim'd, " What means the ape ? " 
 "What mane I, honey? Widout book 
 That 's answer'd — to see how I look 
 
 When I am fast aslapeP 
 
 1 1. — On Johnson, 
 
 What bard can after Johnson shine ? 
 
 Who shall in judgment sit ? 
 Author of every thi7ig divine^ 
 
 And Arbiter of Wit ! 
 
 12. — An Epigram of Martial, L, 3, E, 31. 
 
 I OWN, Sir Lustrings you Ve a million clear, 
 You boast in lands ten thousand pounds a year ; 
 Your various mortgages no chest can hold, 
 Subscriptions, loans, and South-Sea stock untold ; 
 You eat on silver, and you drink in gold. 
 Yet sneer not righteous patriots, though on foot, 
 Nor grin at virtue in an old surtout. 
 Sejanus claim'd than you a larger store, 
 Rufinus and Eutropius^ sir, had more, 
 And so had Osterman — ^but all is o'er. 
 
EPIGRAMS. 93 
 
 13. — Mayn't a Man Marry his Grandmother 1 
 
 This relative of mine 
 Was she seventy and nine, 
 
 When she died ? 
 By the canvas may be seen 
 How she looked at seventeen, — 
 
 As a Bride. 
 
 Beneath a summer tree 
 As she sits, her reverie 
 
 Has a charm ; 
 Her ringlets are in taste, — 
 What an arm — and what a waist 
 
 For an arm ! 
 
 In bridal coronet. 
 
 Lace, ribbons, and coquette 
 
 Falbala ; 
 Were Romney's limning true. 
 What a lucky dog were you 
 
 Grandpapa ! 
 
 Her lips as sweet as love, 
 
 They are parting ! Do they move ? 
 
 Are they dumb ? — 
 Her eyes are blue, and beam 
 Beseechingly, and seem 
 
 To say, " Come/' 
 
94 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 What funny fancy slips 
 
 From atween those cherry lips ? 
 
 Whisper me, 
 Sweet Deity, in paint, 
 What canon says I mayn't 
 Marry thee ? 
 
 14. — O71 a Cuckold, 
 
 A SOBER cit of Hymen's school. 
 And yet no foe to pleasantry ; 
 
 Once wish'd that every horn' d fool 
 Might plunged be headlong in the sea. 
 
 His wife, a sleek round spicy dame. 
 Replied, " My dear, I like your whim ; 
 
 But ere you this advice proclaim, 
 I '11 have you, silly, learn to swim." 
 
 15. — On Debt. 
 
 To be indebted is a shame, men say ; 
 Then 'tis confessing of a shame to pay. 
 
 16. — On a Talkative Peer, 
 
 They say he has no heart, but I deny it ; 
 He has a heart— and gets his speeches by it. 
 
EPIGRAMS, 95 
 
 17. — On a Picture in Hampton Court Palace, 
 
 [Said to have been written by Spenser, but generally supposed to be by 
 Queen Elizabeth-] 
 
 The restless swallow fits my restless minde, 
 
 In still revivinge, still renewinge wrongs ; 
 Her just complaint of cruelty unkinde, 
 
 Are all the musique that my life prolonges, 
 With pensive thought my weeping stagg I crowne 
 
 Whose melancholy tears my cares expresse, 
 Hes teares in sylence, and my sighes unknowne, 
 
 Are all the physicke that my harmes redresse. 
 My only hope was in this goodly tree, 
 
 Which I did plant in love, bring up in care. 
 But all in vaine, for now too late I see 
 
 The shales be mine, the kernel others are. 
 My musique may be plaintes, my physique* teares, 
 
 If this be all the fruite my love-tree beares. 
 
 18. — A Headless Compliment, 
 
 "To this night's Masquerade," quoth Dick, 
 
 " By pleasure I am beckoned. 
 And think 'twill be a pleasant trick 
 
 To go as Charles the Second." 
 Tom felt for repartee athirst. 
 
 And thus to Richard said — 
 " You 'd better go as Charles the First, 
 
 For that requires no head." 
 
96 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 19. — To an Infant, Translated from the Persian^ by 
 Sir William Jones, 
 
 On Parents' knees a naked new-born child, 
 Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled ; 
 So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep, 
 Calm thou may'st smile while all around thee weep. 
 
 20. — Epigram, 
 
 Charles for a woman lost his head, 
 James for a wafer left his bread 
 
 To those who chose to take it ; 
 Happy for every mother's son. 
 That when the scramble was begun. 
 
 So few could e'er mistake it. 
 
 21. — 071 John Wilkes, 
 
 Much has been writ, O Wilkes ! in vain 
 
 Thy doubtful fame to ascertain ; 
 
 At length two circumstances show 
 
 Thy real character below. 
 
 Thy friends, thy patriot friends, 'tis said. 
 
 In pure regard^ all wish thee dead. 
 
 Thy foes a different instance give. 
 
 For they all wish that thou may'st live / 
 
EPIGRAMS. 97 
 
 22.— Taxes. — {To any Chancellor of the Exchequer}) 
 
 Impose ; but use your power of taxing well ; 
 When subjects cannot pay, they soon rebel. 
 
 23. — On Stella^ s Wearing (what the Milliners call) 
 a Jacob's Ladder on her Apron String, 
 
 Old Jacob's Ladder (I could prove) 
 Had all its beauties from above. 
 Young Stella's is the greatest wonder, 
 With beauties both above and under. 
 
 24. — Another Version. 
 
 Old Jacob's Ladder (I could prove) 
 Had no great charms but from above. 
 Young Stella's Ladder is the wonder, 
 With rapt'rous charms above and under. 
 
 25. — On Marriage. 
 
 Jack praised his friend, who tried his fate, 
 In joining fast himself with Kate 
 
 In wedlock so divine. 
 " Marriage is the end of life," he cried. 
 " Too true, alas ! " says Tom, and sigh'd, 
 ^^ 'Twill be the end of mine." 
 
98 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 26. — On Mr Pingd's Medal 
 
 Mr Pingo, by direction of Mr Garrick, engraved a 
 medal, on one side of which was the manager's head ; 
 on the reverse, three figures, that resembled plague, 
 pestilence, and famine, more than what they were in- 
 tended to represent, namely, the three Graces^ with this 
 modest inscription — 
 
 "He has united all your powers." 
 
 This being, by a gentleman to whom Mr Garrick had 
 presented it, shown to 'Mr Henderson, he repeated the 
 following lines : — 
 
 Three squalid hags when Pingo formed, ' 
 
 And christened them the Graces ; 
 Garrick, with Shakespear's magic warm'd, 
 
 Recognised soon their faces. 
 
 He knew them for the sisters weird. 
 
 Whose art bedimm'd the noon-tide hour. 
 
 And from his lips this line was heard, 
 " / have ujtited all your power'^ 
 
 So Garrick, critics all agree. 
 
 The Graces helped thee to no riches, 
 
 And Pingo thus to, flatter thee, 
 Has made his Graces witches. 
 
EPIGRAMS, 99 
 
 27. — On a Frigger, 
 
 Upon one who, instead of patronising the efforts of poor, 
 but clever, authors, set a price upon their labours, and 
 published them under his own name. 
 
 Dost marvel Dapes should obtain 
 For wit^ so wond'rous great a name ? 
 Dapes has wealth : and love of gain 
 Tempts many a man to barter y^j:;;^^, 
 And sell the birthright of his head, 
 For Dupes' fish — flesh— fowl — and bread ! 
 
 28. — On Smithfield, 
 
 Walking thro' Smithfield on a market day, 
 
 " By Jove," cries Tom, " we Ve come a beastly way ! ^' 
 
 29. — On Flora! s sending a Fresent of a Michaelmas 
 Goose to Mr . 
 
 The Phrygian King, as we are told, 
 
 Tho' perhaps you 'd think it much, 
 Could convert to genuine gold 
 
 The basest metal with a touch. 
 So all his feeling • must lose, 
 
 And must become much less than man, 
 If on tasting Flora's goose, 
 
 He turns not out a Leda's swan. 
 
lOO 
 
 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 30. — On Fan7iy, 
 
 Some faults belong to ev'ry charming fair, 
 But mcmberless the lovely Fanny's are : 
 So numberless, they can be told by none ; 
 For Yzxixiy faultless is — not having one. 
 
 31. — On a Mask. 
 
 Once at a masquerade ^ painted {-aSx^ 
 Was vvand'ring o'er the rooms in piteous case, 
 
 ^^ I 've lost my mask," she cry'd, with mournful air. 
 " No," said a friend, ''''you have it on your faceP 
 
 32. — On seeing Mr Colman carried into his Post-chaise 
 by two Set vants, at Bath, after reading iti the Papers 
 that he had entirely overcome the Paralytic Attack on 
 his left Side at Margate, 
 
 Poor Coley qtcite well again ? Would it were true ? 
 
 But fact ^s a most obstinate critic. 
 And his left side, still doom'd Dr Margate to rue. 
 
 Bears the print of a stroke paralytic. 
 But Bath, and sage Harrington, soon shall prevail, 
 
 And to London he '11 go sound and tight ; 
 Where his patient restor'd honest Hervey shall hail. 
 
 With his left^ like his other side, right. 
 
EPIGRAMS. loi 
 
 2,'^. — On the Oj^ganist of St Peter and Paul in Bath^ on 
 hearing his Volimta?ies^ said to be written by a cele- 
 brated Musical Lady, who lately visited Bath, 
 
 Why, gentle Joey, why for ever make 
 
 Two saints such martyrs for rehgion's sake ? 
 
 Shall pious aldermen still s7iore in C, 
 
 And Death no close contrive to cha?tge thy key f 
 
 Let some bless' d string from David's holy harp, 
 
 Well tun^d to exectcte — mflat or sharp, 
 
 ^i'^ gentle strain — transpose thy soul to heav'n, 
 
 And peace to Patcl and Peter here be giv'n. 
 
 34. — Epigram, 
 
 In the last wretched moments of the famous Duke of 
 Buckingham's life, at the Black Horse Alehouse, in Em- 
 pingham, he called to the landlord with great vehemence 
 for a -pot of ale ; when the brutal fellow bawled out from 
 a back room, " Your Grace is in a plaguy hurry; I '11 come 
 as soon as I have fed my pigs." This circumstance sug- 
 gested the following epigram : — 
 
 " Some ale ! some ale ! " th' impetuous Villiers cries ; 
 To whom the surly landlord thus replies : 
 " Plague on your Grace ! you treat me like a dog : 
 I '11 serve your Lordship when I 've serv'd my hog." 
 
I02 
 
 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 35. — To a Thief. 
 
 Quoth a starved poet to a thievish spark, 
 Who searched his house for money in the dark ; 
 Forbear your pains, my friend, and go av^ray ; 
 You '11 not find now, what I can't in the day. 
 
 36. — 071 a Blusterer, 
 
 How kind has Nature unto Bluster been. 
 Who gave him dreadful looks and dauntless mien ; 
 Gave tongue to swagger, eyes to strike dismay ; 
 And, kinder still, gave legs — to run away ! 
 
 37. — On a late Parliamentary Defeat. 
 
 O Cornwall^ great, I ween, is thy renown. 
 
 Far mightier thou than noble Richmoiid' s Grace is ; 
 
 Thou with one little word hast tumbled down 
 His bastions, batteries, counterscarps and glacis. 
 
 38.— 0/2 '' Nothing:' 
 
 [Written at the request of a Lady.j 
 
 Write on nothing ! Lady ! shame so to puzzle me ; 
 For something, Lady, ne'er can nothing be : 
 This nothing must be something, and I see 
 This nothing and this something all in thee. 
 
EPIGRAMS, 103 
 
 39. — On Love, 
 
 It is said that to love, 
 And be loved in return, 
 
 Is a bliss that no wise 
 
 Man or woman should spurn. 
 
 But what nonsense is this, 
 Since each lover we find 
 
 Either mopish and sad, 
 Or distracted in mind. 
 
 40. — On FldUiotis Authorship. 
 
 Sly Paul buys verse as he buys merchandise. 
 Then for his own, he'll pompously recite it — 
 
 Paul scorns a lie — the poetry is his — 
 
 By law his own, although he could not write it ! 
 
 41. — " Stick no BillsP 
 
 At a small village, four miles west of the metropolis, 
 
 on the window-shutters of an apothecary's shop are 
 
 written, 
 
 " Stick no bills." 
 
 To which some wag has added underneath, 
 
 " Take no pills." 
 
104 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 42. — Oil the Wedding-Ri7ig, 
 
 This precious emblem well doth represent 
 That evenness that crowns us with content, 
 Which, when it wanting is, the sacred yoke 
 Becomes uneasy, and with ease is broke. 
 
 43. — Philosophical Epigram, 
 
 Says the Earth to the AI0071, " you ^re a pilfering jade, 
 What youVe stole from the S7t?i is beyond all belief.'' 
 
 Fair Cynthia replies, " Madam Earth, hold your prate, 
 The receiver is always as bad as the thief." 
 
 44. — 0)1 Chai'lotte, 
 
 Some say Charlotte good is not ; 
 
 A few, she is not evil ; 
 But Billy says, and he knows best. 
 
 She is a very devil. 
 
 45. — On Charles I. 
 
 Z^KL^ learning, patience, valour here doth lie, 
 
 Superlative ev'n unto ecstasie ; 
 
 That steer'd a state war-tost, not by self-will : 
 
 Blame then the storm, and not th' pilot's want of skill. 
 
EPIGRAMS. 105 
 
 46. — On a Dutch Vessel refusing to take icp a late 
 Aerial Voyager. 
 ^' Beneath the sun nothing, there's nothing that's new :" 
 Though Solomon said it, the maxim 's not true. 
 A Dutchman, for instance, was heretofore known, 
 On Lucre intent, and on Lucre alone. 
 Mynheer is grown honest — retreats from his prey — 
 Won't pick up e'en Money ^ though dropt in his way. 
 
 47. — On a Blacks7nith, 
 
 Tom Sledge, the blacksmith, by his frequent whets, 
 And spending much, contracted many debts. 
 In this distress he, like some other fools, 
 Pull'd down his forge, and sold off all his tools ; 
 Nothing was left that would fetch any price ; 
 But after all was sold, Tom kept his Vice. 
 
 48. — On a Man a?id his Ass. 
 Kind Asper will do anything you choose — 
 But lend his ass — and that you must excuse ; 
 His time and toil he freely will expend 
 On your behalf— his ass he '11 never lend. 
 He'd fetch and carry at your call or beck, — 
 But would not lend his ass to save your neck : 
 None in self-knowledge Asper can surpass, 
 Who justly rates himself below an ass ! 
 
io6 EPIGRAMS. 
 
 49. — On a Rule, 
 
 Tis good to speak no ill of other men, 
 And of ourselves to speak no good agen. 
 
 50. — On a Cheater, 
 
 Cheater of gold, hast thou such quenchless thirst ! 
 I would 'twere melted, then drink till thou burst. 
 
 51. — On a Scotch Presbyterian, 
 
 An old Scotch Presbyterian, sour and sly, 
 The l^Qxd. preserve me always us'd to cry : 
 To whom a buxom wench did jeering say, 
 Preserving you, were sugar thrown away : 
 Preserves are ever made of sweetest fruits ; 
 With your sour nature vinegar best suits : 
 Alter therefore your prayer, and from this day, 
 Good Lord, pray pickle me, in future say. 
 
 52. — Oft the Drummers oj the Westminster Militia 
 beating a long time before their ColoneVs Quarters, 
 
 My lads, your Colonel I fear 
 
 Will near be waked by drumming. 
 
 Ring the bar bell,"^ he '11 straight appear, 
 With coming, gemmen, coming ! 
 
 * He formerly kept a tavern. 
 
EPIGRAMS. 107 
 
 53. — On the Fair Sex, 
 
 Women are dainty vessels, 
 
 Yet tender, weak, and soft : 
 They must sometimes be borne withal, 
 
 Since they do bear so oft. 
 
 54. — On a Violefit Dispute between two Musicians, 
 
 Sweet Tweedledum, dear Tweedledee, 
 
 Ye sons of cat-gut, pray agree ; 
 Strange 'twixt two fiddlers there should be, 
 
 So great a want of harmony. 
 
 55. — O71 a Worthless Character, 
 
 Robert complain d much one day 
 That Frank had ta^en his character away : 
 I take your character, says Frank, G-d z — s, 
 I would not have it for ten thousand pounds ! 
 
 56. — On Mrs Fury, 
 
 To look like an angel the ladies believe, 
 
 Is the greatest of blessings that heaven can give, 
 
 But faith, they're mistaken ; for nymphs, I assure you, 
 
 Its a far greater blessing to look like a Fury. 
 
io8 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 57. — On Womejis Fa tilts. 
 
 We men in many faults abound, 
 
 In women two alone are found ; 
 
 The worst that from their sex proceeds, 
 
 Is naught in words, and naught in deeds. 
 
 58. — On Man and Woman, 
 
 When man and woman dies, as poets sung, 
 
 His heart 's the last that stirs, of her 's the tongue. 
 
 59. — On Physicians, 
 
 Physicians are most miserable men. 
 
 That cannot be denied, 
 For they are never truly well, but when 
 
 Most men are ill beside. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 
 
 On John Adams, 159. 
 
 On Mrs Allaker, 205. 
 
 On the Marquis of Anglesea's Leg, 227. 
 
 On Mrs Ehzabeth Archer, 96. 
 
 On Peter Aretin, 129. 
 
 On an Author, "j^. 
 
 On a Baker, 207. 
 
 On Don Barbuda, 197. 
 
 On John Barnet, 39. 
 
 On a Barren Woman, 168. 
 
 On Nell Batchelour, 216. 
 
 On a Bellows Maker, 50. 
 
 In Bengeo Old Churchyard, 105. 
 
 On Mr Blacket, 3. 
 
 On a Blacksmith, 21, 55. 
 
 In Blakemore Church, 27. 
 
 On Judge Boat, 237. 
 
 On a Bottle of Hock, 17. 
 
 On Thomas Boxer, 151. 
 
 On Brawne, an Irish Beggar, 7. 
 
 On a Brewer, 35. 
 
 On Richard Burke, 74. 
 
no 
 
 INDEX 70 THE EPITAPHS, 
 
 On 
 
 a Candle, 244. 
 
 On 
 
 a Card Maker, 41. 
 
 On 
 
 Joan Carthew, 200. 
 
 On 
 
 a Favourite Cat, 83. 
 
 On 
 
 William Moore Caulfield, 215. 
 
 Cheltenham Waters, 85. 
 
 In 
 
 Chigwell Churchyard, 113. 
 
 On 
 
 a Child, 182. 
 
 In 
 
 the Churchyard of Seven Oaks, Kent, 245. 
 
 In 
 
 Cirencester Churchyard, 164. 
 
 On 
 
 a Clergyman of the name of Chest, 1 14. 
 
 On 
 
 a Coachman, 217. 
 
 On 
 
 a Coalheaver, 63. 
 
 On a Celebrated Cook, 79. 
 
 On 
 
 a Coroner, 223. 
 
 On 
 
 a Costermonger, 90. 
 
 On 
 
 a Country Cobbler, 171. 
 
 On 
 
 a Country Innkeeper, 203. 
 
 On 
 
 a Country Squire, 46. 
 
 On 
 
 a Covetous Person, 36. 
 
 On 
 
 Tom Crossfield, 18. 
 
 On 
 
 Robert Crytoft, 137. 
 
 In 
 
 Cunwallow Churchyard, Cornwall, 173. 
 
 Curious Epitaph, 239. 
 
 On 
 
 Sir Williain Curtis, 219. 
 
 On 
 
 Thomas Day, 212. 
 
 On 
 
 Mrs Death, 54. 
 
 " Death is a Fisherman," 84. 
 
 On 
 
 a Deistical Writer, 147. 
 
 On Mrs Delamotte, 9. 
 
 In 
 
 Ditchington Churchyard, 141. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. in 
 
 On Robert Dodd, a Glazier, 236. 
 On a Favourite Dog, 176. 
 On Thomas D'Urfey, 174. 
 On a Dyer, 71. 
 
 On Edward Edwards, 240. 
 On Edward Everard, 103. 
 Epigrammatic Epitaph, 132. 
 On an Epicure, 61. 
 On an Exciseman, 206. 
 
 On Mr Fish, 125. 
 
 On Dr Fisher, ^Z. 
 
 On Foote the Comedian, 13. 
 
 On Four Sisters, 229. 
 
 To the Four Wives of W. J. Home, 146. 
 
 On Thomas Fox, 191. 
 
 On Benjamin Franklin, 73. 
 
 On Rebecca Freeland, 162. 
 
 French Epitaph, 172. 
 
 From the Greek, 124. 
 
 On Dr Fuller, 241. 
 
 On Gay the Poet, 194. 
 On George Goldwire, 130. 
 On Oliver Goldsmith, 62. 
 On Mr Goodrich, Z'], 
 On a Good Wife, 23. 
 On Mr Granville, 242. 
 On Katharine Gray, 106. 
 On a Great Eater, 167, 238. 
 On Isaac Greentree, 134. 
 
112 INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 
 
 On Sir John Guise, 225. 
 On Margaret Gwyn, 143. 
 
 On John Hall, 24. 
 
 On Russell Hall, iii. 
 
 On Thomas Halliday, 189. 
 
 On a Henpecked Squire, 120. 
 
 '' Here lie I, at the chancel door," 166. 
 
 On Phoebe Hessel, 157. 
 
 On John Heyrick, "]"], 
 
 On George Hill, 57. 
 
 On Richard Holmes and his Wife, 199. 
 
 On a Huntsman, no. 
 
 On an Infant, 8, 142, 160, 165, 185. 
 On an Inveterate Ale Drinker, 148. 
 An Irish Epitaph, 116. 
 On an Iron Heel, 12. 
 On Peter Izod, 188. 
 
 On Richard Jackson, 93. 
 
 On Dr Samuel Johnson, 118, 133. 
 
 On Joseph Jones, 211. 
 
 On Thomas Kemp, 234. 
 On Kildare, 128. 
 In Kilmurry Churchyard, 4. 
 In Kingston Churchyard, 226. 
 On Joan Kitchin, 107. 
 
 On a Lady of good Sense, 126. 
 On a Landlady, 231. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS, 113 
 
 On Mr Law, 158. 
 
 On a Lawyer, 26. 
 
 On John Lee, 51. 
 
 On Mrs Lee and her son Tom, 52, 
 
 On a Liar, 247. 
 
 At Lilhngham, Dorset, 155. 
 
 On a Linen-Draper, 145. 
 
 On Emma Horatia Lisle, 80. 
 
 On E. and M. Littleboy, 170. 
 
 On Sarah Lloyd, 104. 
 
 On a Locksmith, 64. 
 
 On John Macpherson, 180. 
 
 On William Maginn, 33. • 
 
 On a Man Hung in Chains, 22. 
 
 On a Man named Fish, 125. 
 
 In Michael Church, 30. 
 
 On Henry Miles, 10. 
 
 On Mr Mills, no. 
 
 On a Miller, 28. 
 
 On a Miser, 5, 42, Zi^ 
 
 On Matthias Mitchell, 192. 
 
 On Mr More, 144. 
 
 On Edward Morgan, 221. 
 
 On Roger Morton, 109. 
 
 On Dr Mounsey, 224. 
 
 On Matthew Mudd, 67. 
 
 Nautical Epitaphs, 88, 89. 
 
 On Sir Isaac Newton, 201, 218. 
 
 On an Old Maid, 169. 
 
114 INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS, 
 
 On Lady O'Looney, 149. 
 
 ** On a Thursday she was Born," 115. 
 
 On One who died from Eating Melon, 113. 
 
 On Mrs Onions, 187. 
 
 At Painswick, Gloucestershire, 135. 
 
 On Dame Mary Page, 69. 
 
 On John Palfreyman, 178. 
 
 On a Parish Clerk, 70, 97. 
 
 On John Parson, 175. 
 
 On Dicky Pearce, 139. 
 
 On James Peck, 6. 
 
 On Mr Pepper, a Publican, 75. 
 
 On Petrarch, 31. 
 
 On John Phillips, 136. 
 
 On a Physician, 78. 
 
 On a Pinmaker, 210. 
 
 On Alexander Pope's Nurse, 86. 
 
 On a Porter, 249. 
 
 On a Postillion, 72. 
 
 On a Pressman, 14. 
 
 On the Prince of Wales, 20. 
 
 On Matthew Prior, the Poet, 91. 
 
 On Samuel Proctor, 60. 
 
 On John Prosser, 29. 
 
 On William Prynne, 38. 
 
 On a Punster, 138. 
 
 On a Quack, 59. 
 
 On a Quarrelsome Man, 181. 
 
 On Wilham Quick, 37. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS, 115 
 
 On Isaac Reed, 195. 
 
 On Richard Richards, i. 
 
 In Ripon Churchyard, 34. 
 
 In Rochester Churchyard, 230. 
 
 On Mary Rogers, 100. 
 
 On John Ross, 161. 
 
 On Mrs Ann Rossoman, 184. 
 
 On Frank Rowe, a Stone-Cutter, 117. 
 
 On S. Rumbold, 119. 
 
 On a Sailor, 2. 
 
 In Si Giles' Churchyard, 228. 
 
 In St John's, Horsleydown, 88. 
 
 On Sarah, in Kilmurry Churchyard, 4. 
 
 On a Scold, 58. 
 
 On a Scolding Wife, 163. 
 
 On a Scolding Woman, 95. 
 
 On Margery Scott, 53. 
 
 On Charles Selwyn, 65. 
 
 On a Sexton, 190. 
 
 On John Shaw, an Attorney, 47. 
 
 On Edward Thomas Sheep, 177. 
 
 On Dr Sheridan, 196. 
 
 " Sickness was my Portion," &c., 19. 
 
 On a Slovenly Woman, 202. 
 
 On William Smith, 94. 
 
 On a Smuggler, 66. 
 
 On Martha Snell, 150. 
 
 On Mr Speid, 49. 
 
 On Dr Stafford, 102. 
 
 In Staplehurst Churchyard, 186. 
 
 On Pat Steele, 16. 
 
ii6 
 
 INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 
 
 
 On Stephen the Dwarf Fiddler, 40, 
 
 
 On Captain Stone, 213. 
 
 
 On Mrs Storks, 99. 
 
 
 On Mr Strange, a Lawyer, 122. 
 
 
 On a Stump Orator, 25. 
 
 
 On WilUam Sturt, 15. 
 
 
 On John Sullen, 82. 
 
 
 On a Swift-footed Man, 204. 
 
 
 On William Symons, 56. 
 
 
 On a Tailor and Barber, 32. 
 
 
 On a Tall Man, 179. 
 
 
 On a Talkative Old Maid, 232. 
 
 
 At Tavistock, Devon, 153. 
 
 
 On John Teddy, 235. 
 
 
 On Ten Persons Drowned, 222. 
 
 
 " The World 's a City," &c., 105. 
 
 
 On Theodore, last King of Corsica, 44. 
 
 
 On Thomas Thetcher, 128. 
 
 
 In Thetford Churchyard, 183. 
 
 
 On a Tombstone in Crettow Churchyard, 115. 
 
 
 On a Tombstone at Ecclesfield, 92. 
 
 
 On a Tombstone in Essex, 156. 
 
 
 On John Treffrey, 209. 
 
 
 On Robert Trollop, 48. 
 
 
 On Joan Trueman, 248. 
 
 
 On Thomas Turar, 43. 
 
 
 On Two Brothers, 45. 
 
 
 On Two Children of a Chimney-Sweep, 220. 
 
 
 On Two Danish Soldiers, loi. 
 
 
 On Two Infants, 68. 
 
 
 On Twin Sisters, 233. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPITAPHS. 117 
 
 On an Undertaker, 214. 
 
 On Sir John Vanbrugh, 198. 
 
 On Mr Wake, 11. 
 
 On Dr Walker, 112. 
 
 In West Grinstead Churchyard, 246. 
 
 On a Wife, 121. 
 
 On Wilham Willing, 243. 
 
 On Wilham Wilson, 154. 
 
 On General Wolfe, 193. 
 
 On Sir Thomas Woodcock, 123. 
 
 On Thomas Woodcock, 98. 
 
 On a Woodman, 208. 
 
 In Worcester Churchyard, 140. 
 
 On Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, 108. 
 
 On Arabella Young, 231. 
 On a Young Man Killed during a Display of 
 Fireworks, 152. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPIGRAMS. 
 
 — >^-^— - 
 
 On a Blacksmith, 47. 
 
 On a Blusterer, 36. 
 
 To any Chancellor of the Exchequer, 22. 
 
 On Charity, 8. 
 
 " Charles for a woman lost his head," 20. 
 
 On Charles I.," 45. 
 
 On Charlotte, 44. 
 
 On a Cheater, 50. 
 
 On Mr Colman, 32. 
 
 " Cried Dick to Will," 3. 
 
 On a Cuckold, 14. 
 
 On Debt, 15. 
 
 On the river Dee, 5. 
 
 On the Duke of Buckingham's Request, 34. 
 
 On the Drummers beating a long time before 
 
 their Colonel's Quarters, 52. 
 
 On a Dutch Vessel refusing to take up a late 
 
 Aerial Voyager, 46. 
 
 On an Epigram, 2. 
 
 Epigram, 3, 9, 20. 
 
INDEX TO THE EPIGRAMS. 119 
 
 On the Fair Sex, ^2>* 
 
 On Fanny, 30. 
 
 On Fictitious Authorship, 40. 
 
 On Flora's sending a Present of a Michaelmas 
 
 Goose to Mr , 29. 
 
 On Mrs Fury, 56. 
 
 Headless Compliment, 18. 
 
 To an Infant, 19. 
 
 On Dr Johnson, 11. 
 
 On the Late Parliamentary Defeat, 37. 
 
 On Looking on himself asleep, 10. 
 
 On Love, 39. 
 
 On a Man and his Ass, 48. 
 
 On Man and Woman, 58. 
 
 On Marriage, 25. 
 
 From Martial, 12. 
 
 On a Mask, 31. 
 
 Mayn't a Man Marry his Grandm.other, 13. 
 
 On Milton, 4. 
 
 On Nothing, 38. 
 
 On the Organist of St Peter and Paul at 
 
 Bath, 33. 
 
 Philosophical Epigram, 43. 
 
 On Physicians, 59. 
 
 On a Picture in Hampton Court Palace, 17. 
 
1 20 INDEX TO THE EPIGRAMS. 
 
 On Mr Pingo's Medal, 26. 
 On a Prigger, 27. 
 
 7^ 
 
 On a Rule, 49. ^>^^^ iS | 
 
 On a Scotch Presbyterian, 51. 
 On Seeing an Acquaintance with a Shabby- 
 Coat, 7. 
 On Smithfield, 28. 
 On a Squinting Coxcomb, i. 
 On Stella wearing a " Jacob's Ladder," 23, 24. ' 
 "Stick no Bills,'- 41. 
 On Swearing, 6. 
 
 On a Talkative Peer, 16. 
 
 On Taxes, 32. 
 
 To a Thief, 35. 
 
 On a True Irishman, 10. 
 
 On a Violent Dispute between two Musicians, 54. 
 
 On the Wedding-Ring, 42. 
 On John Wilkes, 21. 
 On Women's Faults, 57. 
 On a Worthless Character, 55. 
 
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