AN EPITAPH UPON
the death of the Right worthy and Worsh: Gent. S: Edward Stanhope Knight deceased:
and whilst that he lived, Doctor of the Civill Law, & one of the Maisters of his Majesties high
Court of Chauncery: Vicar generall of England: Chauncellor of London: & one of the Maisters of
the fine office, etc. Who continued Chauncellor of London, in the time of five Bishops, and three of Canterbury, for
the space of thirty yeares or thereabouts: Who deceased the 16. day of March. An. Dom. 1607.
|
THe time and destinie weare set at strife,
|
Honor and Vertue was their mutuall claime,
|
Fate at the death, the season at the life,
|
Of worthy Stanhope, equally did aime,
|
Death did the'ambage of the cause decide,
|
Whose censure both are willing to abide.
|
Strong was the plea of changles desteny,
|
Quoth she, I pleade the cause of humane Fate,
|
Where does he live that is not borne to die,
|
From the Throan'de pallace to the beggars state.
|
And to corrupt this umpire this did say,
|
Thou shalt have share to give his life away.
|
The time abusde hartsicke for Reformation,
|
Pleaded her wronges, oh plea too truly just:
|
Craving to have the Cato of our Nation,
|
Not rest the manage of his worthy trust.
|
Death brib'de by fate, gave sentence he must die
|
And so expirde the life of equitie.
|
Whome Time with teares, thus direfully bemones,
|
Oh sonne of Justice dropt from heaven bye:
|
The shape of honor shrowded with thy bones,
|
Concealed from the world in Earth must lye.
|
And the poore wronged wretch that craves redresse,
|
Must careles languish in his deepe distresse.
|
Reverend and grave rich mine of perfect merit,
|
As in discent so in his vertues great,
|
Religious in his life, his Clemencie,
|
A patterne absolute of high Estate,
|
Stanhope in death will teach to all that live,
|
What right to wrong, what paine to sinne to give.
|
Where now shall learning boast of her perfection,
|
Where Justice vouch herselfe sincerely right
|
How shall the poore man get a safe protection?
|
Gainst powerfull wrong or fell oppressions spight,
|
Stanhope is dead, wherein our hope did stand,
|
Why should our hopes be built upon the sand.
|
Who shall the perfect linguisht be esteemed?
|
Or who the statesman, who the Lawier called?
|
Who the Apollo of our Age be deemed?
|
Since he is dead, in whome there was enstalled.
|
A Linguists tongue, states policy, and wit,
|
That might the Apollo of a world befit.
|
Such was his life, and such his industry,
|
As not his titles him, but them he graced:
|
Encouraging the good to piety,
|
When they beheld the ill by him defaced.
|
Over his toumbe, Ile carve this Paragraphe,
|
His Vertues shall out-live his Epitaphe,
|
|
|
|
|
|