Scene 13.
Enter Madam Jantil in her habit with a white Taper lighted in her hand, the Tomb bring thrust upon the Stage she goeth to the Tomb, then kneels down and seems as praying, after that she rises, hold∣ing out the Torch with the other hand speaks as follow.
These Verses being writ by my Lord, the Marquess of Newcastle.
MAdam Iantil.
Welcome sad thoughts that's heapt up without measure,
They're joys to me and wealthy Sons of treasure;
Were all my breath turn'd into sighs 'twould ease me,
And showrs of tears to bath my griefs would please me;
Then every groan so kind to take my part,
To vent some sorrows still thus from my heart;
But there's no Vacuum, O my heart is full,
As it vents sorrows new griefs in doth pull;
Is there no comfort left upon the Earth?
Let me consider Vegitable birth;
The new born virgin Lilly of the day,
In a few hours dyes, withers away;
And all the odoriferous flow'rs that's sweet,
Breath but a while, and then with Death do meet;
The stouter Oak at last doth yield, and must
Cast his rough skin and crumble all to dust;
But what do Sensitives? alas they be,
Beasts, Birds and flesh to dy as well as we;
And harder minerals though longer stay
Here for a time, yet at the last decay,
And dye as all things else that's in this World,
For into Deaths Arms every thing is hurll'd;
Alass poor man thou'rt in the worst Estate,
Thou diest as these, yet an unhappier fate;
Thy life's but trouble still of numerous passions,
Torments thy self in many various fashions;