A generall rehearsall of warres, called Churchyardes choise wherein is fiue hundred seuerall seruices of land and sea as seiges, battailes, skirmiches, and encounters. A thousande gentle mennes names, of the beste sorte of warriours. A praise and true honour of soldiours. A proofe of perfite nobilitie. A triall and first erection of heraldes. A discourse of calamitie. And ioyned to the same some tragedies & epitaphes, as many as was necessarie for this firste booke. All which workes are dedicated to the hounourable sir Christopher Hatton knight, ... Written by Thomas Churchyard Gent. 1579.

The Epitaphe of the worthie Erle of Essex.

I Blushe to write, in verse, a matter of suche weight, That makes the hearars shed some teares, and moueth sorrowe streight: In graue and statly stile, this tale should sounded be: Too base for suche greate cause I finde, my slender muse and me. My harte doeth bléede in breast, my pen in hande doeth shake, Mine inward sprits doe wepe for woe, this sad discourse to make, But though with heauie newes, a while I fill your eares, The fame I write of this great mā, to ioy shall turne your tears Yea greate of birthe and minde, and fewe so greate as he, For daiely through desarts he grewe, in greatnesse by degree: A Caesars harte he boare, that neuer shronke nor quaild, A courage that against his foes, in all attemptes preuaild. A hedde that could conceiue, as farre as cause was found, A bodie apt for warlike broiles, where bountie did abound: Yea for his bountie greate, a prince in very deede, That made no more account of gold, then of a rotten reede. The noble giftes he gaue, a worlde of worthies wan, Was neuer seen, in Britaine bred, for bountie suche a man. An Erle and liuely Lorde, as milde as is the Doue, Whose courtuous speeche & pleasant port, did purchace peoples loue. A freend to all good men, as faste and true as steele, That would not wagg w^t worlds abuse, & turn about like whéele A pearlesse subiect sure, that Englandes honour sought,

And carde not with what losse of goods, his countrey gaine was bought Full bent to Marciall feats, a Mars in deede well tried, Abroad in féeld where men are known, and cowards easly spied: The care of publique weale, laie wakyng in his eyes, A noble Soldiour framde by kinde, in best and brauest gyes. A house and houshold kept, so frankly euery where, That all the lookers on would saie, some prince was placed there The Soldiours swarmd like Bées, about his stately gate, He was a Lanterne of this land, and Mirrhour of the state. In all thyngs that he did, then what a losse had they: That comes to sée his noble shrine, and findes the sainct awey. O fréends that honord hym, and faithfull seruaunts bothe, Come wéepe with me, & shew thereby, some signe of your great trothe For I haue lost a fréend, and for his sake I vowe, To plant my penne vpon his tombe, and rest from writyng now Till I his like maie finde, whiche hardly shalbe don: O Essexe of renowmed fame, thy race is nobly ron.

FINIS.