Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman by William Strode

One pitt containes him now that could not dye
Before a thousand pitts in him did lye;
Soe many spotts upon his flesh were shewne
'Cause on his soule sinne fastned almost none.

by William Strode

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On A Gentlewoman's Blistred Lipp

On A Gentlewoman's Watch That Wanted A Key

On A Great Hollow Tree

A Girdle

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