EDWIN'S PILLS, &c, SONG

Here lies William of Valence, a right good Earl of Pembroke, And this is his monument which you see I'll swear upon a book, He was Earl Marshall of England when Henry the Third did reign, Above five hundred years ago, but never will be so again.

Here the Lord Talbot lies, the town of Shrewsbury's Earl, Together with his Countess fair, who was a most delicate girl; Next to him there lieth one Sir Richard Peckshall hight, Of whom we only this do say, that he was a Hampshire Knight. Here lies the third King Edward's brother, of whom our records tell Nothing of note, nor say they whether he be in heaven or hell; This same was John of Elderstone, he was no costermonger, But Cornwall's Earl; and here's one died because he could live no longer.

Now think your penny well spent, good folks, and that you're not beguil'd, Within this cup doth lie the heart of a French Ambassador's child, But how the devil it came to pass, on purpose or by chance, The bowels they lie underneath, but the body is in France.

Here lies Oxford's Countess, and there also the Lady Burleigh her mother, And there her daughter a Countess too, lie close by one another; These once were bonny dames, and though there were no coaches then, Yet cou'd they jog their tails themselves, or get them jogg'd by the men.

Oh! woe is me, those high-born sinners that now do pray so stoutly, Living they never pray'd at all, yet their statues pray devoutly; This fair monument which you see, I'd have you to understand, It is a virtuous Lady fair who died of a prick in her hand.

In this fair monument which you see adorned with so many pillars, Doth lie the Countess of Buckingham, and her husband Sir George Villiers; This old Sir George was grandfather, and the Countess she was granny To the great Duke of Buckingham, who led by the nose King Jamy.

Here lies Sir Robert Eatam, a Scotch Knight, this man was secretary, He scribbled compliments for two Queens, Queen Ann, and eke Queen Mary; This same was Mary Queen of Scots, whom Buchanan doth so bespatter, She lost her head at Fotheringhay, whatever was the matter.

Henry the Seventh lies here entomb'd with his fair Queen beside him, He was the founder of this chapel, Oh! may no ill betide him, And here they stand upright in a press, with their bodies made of wax, A globe and a wand in either hand, and their robes upon their backs.

To another Chapel now come we, the people follow, and chat, This is the Lady Cottington, the people cry, whose is that? Why, Sir Thomas Bromley lieth here, death wou'd not him reprieve, With his four sons, and daughters four, that once were all alive.

Here lies Sir John Eullerton, and that is his Lady I trow, And that is Sir John Pickerton whom none of you did know; Here lies the Earl of Torrington, the world ne'er saw a madder, His Countess fair she lies beside him, and now you go up a ladder.

Richard the Second lies here entomb'd with his fair Queen, Queen Ann, Edward the Third lies there hard by, and he was a gallant man; This is the sword of John of Gaunt, a blade both true and trusty, The Frenchmen's blood was ne'er wip'd off, which makes it look so rusty.

Harry the Fifth lies here entomb'd with his fair Queen, Queen Eleanor, To our first Edward she was wife, that's more than you knew before; Now down the ladder come we again, the man goes first with a staff, Two or three tumble down the stairs, and all the people laugh.

Sir Robert Vere lies here entomb'd, who the Spaniards hide so curried, Four Colonels brave support his tomb, and here his body's buried; That statue up against the wall with one eye, is Major General Norris, He bang'd the French most cruelly, as is affirm'd in stories.

Here lies Sir John Holles, who was a Major General, To Sir John Morris that brave blade, and now you may depart all; For now the show is at an end, all things are done and said, The citizens pay for their wives, and the apprentices kiss the maids.