An Epitaph upon Mrs I. T.

REader if thou hast a teare,
Thou canst not choose but pay it here.
Here lyes modesty, meeknesse, zeale,
Goodnesse, Piety, and to tell
Her worth at once, one that had showne
All vertues that her sex could owne.
Nor dare my praise too lavish bee,
Least her dust blush for soe would shee.
Hast thou beheld in the spring's bowers
Tender buds breake to bring forth flowers:
So to keepe vertues stock, pale death
Tooke her to give her infant breath.
Thus her accounts were all made even,
Shee rob'd not earth to adde to heaven.