618 Vrnes, aud odours, bring away,

619Vapours, sighes, darken the day;

620 Our dole more deadly lookes than dying

621Balmes, and Gummes, and heavy cheeres,

622Sacred vials fill'd with teares,

623And clamors through the wild ayre flying.

624Come all sad, and solempne Showes,

625That are quick-eyd pleasures foes;

626We convent nought else but woes. We convent, &c.

6273. Qu. This funeral path, brings to your housholds grave:

628Ioy ceaze on you againe: peace sleepe with him.

6292. Qu. And this to yours.

6301. Qu. Yours this way: Heavens lend

631A thousand differing waies, to one sure end.

6323. Qu. This world's a Citty full of straying Streetes,

633And Death's the market place, where each one meetes.