The Lorde Braies Epitaphe.

CRie out thou worlde and Court,
and saie that loste ye haue:
A better Iewell for his daies,
then your desarts doe craue.
But small ye waie the losse,
of hym and others eke:
Of whose good nature when ye neede,
ye are full farre to seeke.
Whiche maks your plague the more, though least ye thinke thereon:
When ofte ye wishe them here againe, that long are dedde and gon.
As Gold from Lead is knowne, sutche diffrence is in deede:
In men, and more vnlike thei are, then flowre is vnto weede.
Lorde Braie declares the same, who was so clere a Lampe:
That fewe or none my iudgement giues, are left vs of that stampe.
So currant for the Court, so comely in the felde:
So right a sparke of Natures moulde, hath here been seen but selde.
His face did full present, a manly worthie minde:
His woords set forthe a further skill, then all mens heds could finde.
His life could none mislike, his Nature (throughly good:)
His hande more freely gaue awaie, then worlde well vnderstood.
A harte where honour dwelt, a corps full trimly knitte:
A shape as kinde had breath'd hym out, a hedde where lackt no witte.
O Braie thou borest awaie, the banner of renowne:
Let none thinke scorne to followe thee, in feeld in court nor toune.
I take a heauie leaue, of thee and so I cease:
And leaue thee flikeryng in the aire, before the God of peace.