Draw near, fond man, and dress thee by this glass,
Mark how thy bravery and big looks must pass
Into corruption, rottenness and dust;
The frail supporters which betray'd thy trust.
O weigh in time thy last and loathsome state!
To purchase heav'n for tears is no hard rate.
Our glory, greatness, wisdom, all we have,
If mis-employ'd, but add hell to the grave:
Only a fair redemption of evil times
Finds life in death, and buries all our crimes.