Epigrams of all sorts, made at divers times on several occasions by Richard Flecknoe.

On the death of the Lady Jean Cheynée.

THe softest Temper, and the mildest Breast Most apt to pardon, needing pardon least; Whose blush was all her Reprehension, Whilst none ere heard her chide, nor saw her frown: All sweetness, gentleness, and dovlike all, Without least anger, bitterness or gall; Who scarce had any passion of her own, But was for others all compassion: A Saint she liv'd, and like a Saint she dy'd, And now is gone where onely Saints abide. What will she be when she's with Angels, when She even was one whilst here she was with men? What will she be in heaven when she comes there, Whose life and manners were so heavenly here? Make much of her you Saints, for God knows when Your Quires will ever have her like agen.