An Epitaph on Partridge

Here, five Foot deep, lies on his Back, A Cobler, Starmonger, and Quack; Who to the Stars in pure Good-will, Does to his best look upward still. Weep all you Customers that use His Pills, his Almanacks, or Shoes; And you that did your Fortunes seek, Step to his Grave but once a Week: This Earth which bears his Body's Print, You'll find has so much Vertue in't, That I durst pawn my Ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you full as well, In Physick, Stolen Goods, or Love, As he himself could, when above.