Certain Few Woordes Spoken concerninge one Benet Corbett after her Decease

Here, or not many feet from hence,
The virtue lies call’d Patience.
Sickness and Death did do her honour
By loosing paine and feare upon her.
Tis true they forst her to a grave,
That’s all the triumph that they have....
A silly one.... Retreat o’er night
Proves conquest in the morning-fight:
She will rise up against them both....
All sleep, believe it, is not sloth.
And, thou that read’st her elegie,
Take something of her historie:
She had one husband and one sonne;
Ask who they were, and then have doone.