,
A _Dutch_ Woman by Record,
But that's all one, for now alass!
His Blade's not so long as his Sword.

King _Edward_ the Confessor lies
Within this Monument fine;
I'm sure, quoth one, a worser Tomb
Must serve both me and mine.

_Harry_ the Fifth lies there, and there
Doth lie Queen _Eleanor_;
To our first _Edward_ she was Wife,
Which was more than ye knew before.

_Henry_ the Third lies there Entomb'd,
He was Herb _John_ in Pottage;
Little he did, but still Reign'd on,
Although his Sons were at Age.

Fifty six Years he Reigned King,
E'er he the Crown would lay by;
Only we praise him, 'cause he was
Last Builder of the _Abby_.

Here _Thomas Cecil_ lies, who's that?
Why 'tis the Earl of _Exeter_;
And this his Countess is, to Die
How it perplexed her.

[Sidenote: Dol. _Ay, ay, I warrant her, rich Folks are as unwilling to
die as poor Folks._]

Here _Henry Cary_, Lord _Hunsdon_ rests,
What a noise he makes with his Name?
Lord Chamberlain was he unto
Queen _Elizabeth_ of great Fame.

[Sidenote: Sisly. _That's he for whom our Bells ring so often, is it
not_ Mary? Mol. _Ay, ay, the very same._]

And here's one _William Colchester_
Lies of a Certainty;
An Abbot was he of _Westminster_,
And he that saith no, doth lie.

This is the Bishop of _Durham_,
By Death here lay'd in Fetters;
_Henry_ the Seventh lov'd him well,
And so he wrote his Letters.

Sir _Thomas Bacchus_, what of him?
Poor Gentleman not a Word;
Only they Buried him here; but now
Behold that Man with a Sword.

_Humphry de Bohun_, who though he were
Not born with me i'the same Town;
Yet I can tell he was Earl of _Essex_,
Of _Hertford_, and _Northampton_.

He was High Constable of _England_,
As History well expresses;
But now pretty Maids be of good Chear,
We're going up to the Presses.

And now the Presses open stand,
And ye see them all arow;
But never no more are said of these
Then what is said below.

Now down the Stairs come we again,
The Man goes first with a Staff;
Some two or three tumble down the Stairs,
And then the People laugh.

This is the great Sir _Francis Vere_,
That so the _Spaniards_ curry'd;
Four Colonels support his Tomb,
And here his Body's Buried.

That _Statue_ against the _Wall_ with one Eye,
Is Major General _Norris_;
He beat the _Spaniards_ cruelly,
As is affirm'd in Stories.

[Sidenote: Dick. _I warrant ye he had two, if he could have