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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539431" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly<br>Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity<br>Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme<br>Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme<br>He keepes those warme that else would sue to thee,<br>Even thee, to ease them of theyr penury.<br>Sorrow I would, but cannot thinke him dead,<br>Whose parts are rather all distributed<br>To those that live; His pitty lendeth eyes<br>Unto the blind, and to the cripple thighes,<br>Bones to the shatter'd corps, his hand doth make<br>Long armes for those that begg and cannot take:<br>All are supply'd with limbs, and to his freind<br>Hee leaves his heart, the selfe-same heart behind;<br>Scarce man and wife so much one flesh are found<br>As these one soule; the mutuall ty that bound<br>The first prefer'd in heav'n to pay on earth<br>Those happy fees which made them strive for death,<br>Made them both doners of each others store,<br>And each of them his own executor:<br>Those hearty summes are twice confer'd by either,<br>And yet so given as if confer'd by neither.<br>Lest some incroching governour might pare<br>Those almes and damne himselfe with pooremens share,<br>Lameing once more the lame, and killing quite<br>Those halfe-dead carcases, by due foresight<br>His partner is become the hand to act<br>Theyr joynt decree, who else would fain have lackt<br>This longer date that so hee might avoyd<br>The praise wherewith good eares would not be cloy'd,<br>For praises taint our charity, and steale<br>From Heav'ns reward; this caus'd them to conceale<br>Theyr great intendment till the grave must needs<br>Both hide the Author and reveale the deeds.<br>His widdow-freind still lives to take the care<br>Of children left behind; Why is it rare<br>That they who never tied the marriage knott,<br>And but good deeds no issue ever gott,<br>Should have a troupe of children? All mankind<br>Beget them heyres, heyres by theyr freinds resign'd<br>Back into nature's keepeinge. Th' aged head<br>Turn'd creeping child of them is borne and bredd;<br>The prisons are theyr cradles where they hush<br>Those piercing cryes. When other parents blush<br>To see a crooked birth, by these the maim'd<br>Deform'd weake offcasts are sought out and claim'd<br>To rayse a Progeny: before on death<br>Thus they renew mens lives with double breath,<br>And whereas others gett but halfe a man<br>Theyr nobler art of generation can<br>Repayr the soule itselfe, and see that none<br>Bee cripled more in that then in a bone,<br>For which the Cleargy being hartned on<br>Weake soules are cur'd in theyr Physition,<br>Whose superannuat hatt or threadbare cloake<br>Now doth not make his words so vainly spoke<br>To people's laughter: this munificence<br>At once hath giv'n them ears, him eloquence.<br>Now Henryes sacriledge is found to bee<br>The ground that sets off Fishborne's charity,<br>Who from lay owners rescueing church lands,<br>Buys out the injury of wrongfull hands,<br>And shewes the blackness of the other's night<br>By lustre of his day that shines so bright.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Sweet bee thy rest until in heav'n thou see<br>Those thankefull soules on earth preserv'd by thee,<br>Whose russet liv'ryes shall a Robe repay<br>That by reflex makes white the milky way.<br>Then shall those feeble limbs which as thine owne<br>Thou here didst cherish, then indeed bee known<br>To bee thy fellow limbs, all joyn'd in one;<br>For temples here renew'd the corner stone<br>Shall yeild thee thanks, when thou shall wonder at<br>The churches glory, but so poore of late,<br>Glad of thy almes! Because thy tender eare<br>Was never stop'd at cryes, it there shall heare<br>The Angells quire. In all things thou shalt see<br>Thy gifts were but religious Usury</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Strode">William Strode</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539431" data-title="An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor de William Strode" data-description="What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly
Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity
Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme
Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme
He keepes those warme that else would sue to thee,
Even thee, to ease them ..."></div>
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