Epitaph. Caecil. Boulser quae post langue∣scentem morbum non sine inquietudine spiritus & conscientiae obiit.
* 1.1MEthinks Death like one laughing lyes,
Shewing his teeth, shutting his eys,
Only thus to have found her here
He did with so much reason fear,
And she despise.
For barring all the gates of sin,
Death's open wayes to enter in,
She was with a strict siege beset,
To what by force he could not get,
By time to win.
This mighty Warrior was deceived yet,
For what he, muting in her powers, thought
Was but their zeal,
And what by their excess might have been wrought,
Her fasts did heal.
Till that her noble soul, by these, as wings,
Transcending the low pitch of earthly things,