To the Reverend Shade of His Religious Father

That for seven lusters I did never comeTo do the rites to thy religious tomb;That neither hair was cut, or true tears shedBy me, o'er thee, as justments to the dead,Forgive, forgive me; since I did not knowWhether thy bones had here their rest or no,But now 'tis known, behold! behold, I bringUnto thy ghost th' effused offering:And look what smallage, night-shade, cypress, yew,Unto the shades have been, or now are due,