Here you will find the Poem AN EPITAPH On his most honoured Friend Richard Earl of Dorset of poet Henry King
Let no profane ignoble foot tread neer This hallow'd peece of earth, Dorset lies here. A small sad relique of a noble spirit, Free as the air, and ample as his merit; Whose least perfection was large, and great Enough to make a common man compleat. A soul refin'd and cull'd from many men, That reconcil'd the sword unto the pen, Using both well. No proud forgetting Lord, But mindful of mean names and of his word. One that did love for honour, not for ends, And had the noblest way of making friends By loving first. One that did know the Court, Yet understood it better by report Then practice, for he nothing took from thence But the kings favour for his recompence. One for religion, or his countreys good That valu'd not his Fortune nor his blood. One high in fair opinion, rich in praise; And full of all we could have wisht, but dayes. He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear To vent a sigh for him, or lend a tear; May he live long and scorn'd, unpiti'd fall, And want a mourner at his funerall.
