An Epitaph, or funerall inscription, upon the godlie life and death of the Right
worshipfull Maister William Lambe Esquire, Founder of the new Conduit in Hol-
borne, etc. Deceased the one and twentith of April, and intumbed in S. Faiths Church
under Powles, the sixt of Maie next and immediately following.
Anno. 1580. Devised by Abraham Fleming.
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ALl flesh is grasse, the * Scripture saith, and vadeth like a flowre,
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And nothing to be permanent, can vaunt it hath the powre.
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The fairest and the foulest thing, that any man can name,
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Hath but a time to live and die, in honour or in shame.
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No articificiall workemanship, no notable devise,
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No valiant act, no noble deede, no puissant enterprise,
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But as in time triumphantly, it challengeth renowne,
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Even so in time from honours hight, at last it tumbleth downe.
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The doubtfull state of mortall man, an argument may bee,
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That nothing is perpetuall, which glansing eie doeth see,
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But transitorie, fraile, and vaine, as time demandes his fee.
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The Sunne & Moone * shall have their chaunge, though gloriously they shine,
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The glistering Starres in firmament, from brightnes shall decline,
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The scattered cloudes, like winding worme, or scortched parchment scroll,
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Shall shrinke together, as in skies they are constraind to roll.
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Then, sith celestiall creatures state, so alterable is,
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That vaine we count each earthlie thing, I judge it not amis.
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We see the seasons of the yeare, successively insue,
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First nipping Winters blustring blasts, with frosts as stiffe as glue,
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Then pleasant Spring with colours clad, of yellow, greene, and blue:
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Next which comes ripening Summer in, and then doth follow fast,
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Quicke Harvest for the husbandman, tacquite his charges past,
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No time hath this prerogative, for evermore to last.
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Lo thus in circle runs the yeare, with compasse round about,
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And his appointed age the world, by portions weareth out.
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Count what we can most excellent, needes must it have an ende,
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Against decay there is no force, nor fortresse to defende.
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How * many Cities stately built, of timber, lime and stone,
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Are come to naught, and in their place a desert left alone?
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Pompe maketh not perpetuall, although it beare a port,
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A Maigame I may name it well, a pastime and a sport,
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Whose glorie glides and slips away, whose pleasure is but short.
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Like Plaiers in an Enterlude, upon a common stage,
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One representing lustie youth, another crooked age,
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One royall Principalitie, another Courtlie state,
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One like a Judge doth sit on bench, another begges at gate,
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Thus counterfet they all degrees, untill the play be donne:
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Even so is man upon the earth, since first his stocke begonne.
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For Adam, though he lived long, yet dead he was at last,
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The Patriarchs and Prophets olde, their pilgrimage have past:
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Kings have resigned up their crownes, and titles of their thrones,
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And many a politike Governour in grave hath laid his bones,
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This prove the * sundrie writings set, on their Sepulchre stones.
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The wisedome of the wise is vaine, the strong mans strength a toy,
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If they by them as instruments, seeke length of life tenjoy:
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And as for wealth, it is but winde, for riches have no holde,
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*Esaie.40,6.
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Eccl.14.17.18
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1.Pet.1.24.
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James.1.10.
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and in many
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places more,
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this with the
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like compari-
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sons are usu-
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all.
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*An allusion to
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the consum-
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mation of this
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world, when
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all things shal
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passe away &
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vanish.
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*The like
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speach is in
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Tullies Epistles
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familiar, writ-
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ten by Sulpi-
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cius to Cicero,
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touching the
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death of his
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daughter Tul-
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lia, wife to
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Dolabella.
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*Memorials
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of their mor-
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talitie which
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sometime li-
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ved in all kind
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of felicitie.
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The monied man must thinke to die, if once he waxeth olde.
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Lo, lo, a present patterne here, all you that list to learne,
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By viewing of this corps corrupt, what you shall be discearne.
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Sometime he was, as others be, a quicke and living man,
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But wounded with the dart of death, revive him nothing can.
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His youthfull yeares, as others have, this good Esquire hath had,
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And crooked age by creeping on, with weakenesse sicke and sad,
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In winding sheete at head and foote, fast knit his corps hath clad.
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Rich in his life, * poore at his death, a steward of the Lordes,
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His talent Christianly laide out, with Gods good will accordes.
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And as in thActes, Cornelius deedes, beare witnesse of his faith,
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(For outwarde workes before the world, beleefe within bewraith:)
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So this religious Gentleman, a Patrone to the poore,
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In allies and in lanes abrode, at home in thentrie doore,
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In open streete, in holie Church, in many a corners crooke,
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(Where, for the poore and impotent, whom kith and kin forsooke,
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With charitable zeale inflamde, this lowelie Lambe did looke,)
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His almes he hath distributed, and given as he sawe neede,
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Cloth for the backe, meate for the mouth, the hungrie soule to feede.
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As loving as a Lambe he livd, and verifide his name,
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He was an eie unto the blind, a legge unto the lame,
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A comfort to the comfortles, a succour to the sicke,
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A father to the fatherles, whome nipping neede did pricke,
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A husband to the desolate, and widowe left alone,
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A favourer and a freend to all, an enimie to none.
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Now * such as had his wooll to weare, lament of him the lacke,
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His flesh did fill their bellies full, his fleese kept warme their backe,
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His pence and pounds preserved them, from many a wringing wracke.
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No misse of mercie was in him, for jointly hart and hand,
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Were pliant to supplie the wantes, of many in this land.
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For this he knew, by giving them, he lent unto the Lord:
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His humblenes no homelines, of sicklie soule abhord.
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So that I may conclude of him, as needes conclude I must,
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If workes may simply of themselves, make righteous men and just,
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(Which I denie, for unto faith this office is assinde:)
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Then is he sanctifide from sinne, and cleansd in hart and minde.
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The fruites of faith which flourished, in him whiles he did live,
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His diverse distributions, and giftes which he did give,
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The monuments which he hath left, behind him being ded,
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Are signes that * Christ our Shepherd hath, unto his sheepfold led,
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This loving Lambe, who like a Lambe dide meekely in his bed:
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His bodie buried in the ground, there to consume to dust,
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His soule in Abrahams bosome restes, in quietnesse I trust:
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A place allotted unto Lambs, there to possesse in peace,
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Such blessings as this Lambe enjoyes, whose like the Lord increase,
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For Jesus sake the spotlesse Lambe. And here my penne shall cease.
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*For I have
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heard it cre-
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dibly repor-
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ted, that he
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left little or
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nothing undi-
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stributed.
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*Poore peo-
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ple shall sone
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feele the losse
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of this Lambe
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by the lacke
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of their relief.
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*For Christ
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will repay thee a
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thousand fold,
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which is gi-
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ven to the suc-
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courles.
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