Epitaph on a Poor Alchymist

The ashes of a Golden Ass,
Not worth a monument of brass,
Or Chymist subtle as his gold
Reader this earthen urn doth hold;
Who, his gold vanisht all to air
And dear-bought cinders, through despair
And Deaths more certain Chimestrie,
The Quintessence of Fool did die,
Thus sublimated and calin'd
To nothing, but poor dust refin'd.