An Epitaph on a Child of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel

Weep with me, all you that readThis little story;And know, for whom a tear you shedDeath's self is sorry.'Twas a child that so did thrive5In grace and feature,As heaven and nature seemed to striveWhich owned the creature.

Years he numbered scarce thirteenWhen fates turned cruel,10Yet three filled zodiacs had be beenThe stage's jewel;And did act what now we moan,Old men so duly,As, sooth, the parcae thought him one,15He played so truly.

So by error, so his fateThey all consented;But viewing him since, alas too late,They have repented,20And have sought to give new birth,In baths to steep him;But being so much too good for earth,Heaven vows to keep him.