Honour and vertue, triumphing over the grave Exemplified in a faire devout life, and death, adorned with the surviving perfections of Edward Lord Stafford, lately deceased; the last baron of that illustrious family: which honour in him ended with as great lustre as the sunne sets within a serene skye. A treatise so written, that it is as well applicative to all of noble extraction, as to him, and wherein are handled all the requisites of honour, together with the greatest morall, and divine vertues, and commended to the practise of the noble prudent reader. By Anth. Stafford his most humble kinsman. This worke is much embelish'd by the addition of many most elegant elegies penned by the most accute wits of these times.

On the untimely Death of the Lord STAFFORD.

NOt to adorne his herse, or give Him another age to live, Need we to pretend at wit, His worth hath intercepted it: Whose every vertue doth require A Muse that onely can admire. Death, though he strove, his utmost fear'd, He could not take him unprepar'd. H'had ripenesse in his Infancy, And liv'd well in Epitomie. Of what we hop'd in others, he At th' same age had maturity. But he is dead: we may outdare Death now, as having nought to feare; The world hath lost her chiefest blisse, Heaven the onely gainer is. One blow hath kil'd more then the plague, and we In losing one, have lost plurality. A sense might have beene better spar'd, your price We would have thought too but a sacrifice, Such as was I saacks Ram, that sav'd in one Iust Patriarch, a generation. One star we may see shoot, without a grone, But should we lose a constellation,

'Twould puzzle Astrologie, nay almost By losing one, your science would be lost. Fate's wisdome see, that he might leave our tast In rellish, he cut off your choycest last.

H. B.