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Epitaph: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

Here lie the remains of James Pady, Brickmaker, in hope that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his former perishable materials. C. Epitaphs from Addiscombe Church-yard, Devonshire. Here lies Anne Mann; she lived an Old maid and died an old Mann. Bath Abbey. And the voice of men shall call, "He is fallen like us all, Though the weapon of the Lord was in his hand:" And thine epitaph shall be- "He was wretched ev'n as we;" And thy tomb may be unhonoured in the land.— ROBERT BUCHANAN — The Modern Warrior. St. 7.

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh; Here HAROLD lies-but where's his Epitaph? If such you seek, try Westminster, and view Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.— BYRON — Substitute for an Epitaph.

Shrine of the mighty! can it be, That this is all remains of thee?— BYRON — Giaour. L. 106.

And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely temper'd clay was made So fine that it the guest betray'd. Else the soule grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sinne And so was hatch'd a cherubin.— THOS. CAREW — Inscription on Tomb of

Lady Mary Wentworth. It is so soon that I am done for, I wonder what I was begun for! Epitaph in Cheltenham Church-yard. Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to Heaven conveyed, And bade it blossom there.— COLERIDGE — Epitaph on an Infant.

Peas to his Hashes. Epitaph on a London Cook. Underneath this crust Lies the mouldering dust Of Eleanor Batchelor Shoven, Well versed in the arts Of pies, custards and tarts, And the lucrative trade of the oven. When she lived long enough, She made her last puff, A puff by her husband much praised, And now she doth lie And make a dirt pie, In hopes that her crust may be raised. Epitaph on a Yorkshire Cook. In Memory of GEORGE PHILLPOT, Who died March 22nd, 1850, aged 74 years. Full many a life he saved With his undaunted crew; He put his trust in Providence,

Calmly he looked on either Life, and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear: From Nature's temp'rate feast rose satisfy'd, Thank'd Heaven that he had lived, and that he died.— POPE — Epitaph X.

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night. God said "Let Newton be!" and all was light.— POPE — Epitaph XIII.

Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; In Wit a man; Simplicity, a child.— POPE — Epitaph XI.

To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art! draw near! Here lies the friend most lov'd, the son most dear; Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.— POPE — Epitaph on Harcourt.

Under this marble, or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what they will, Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead, Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head, Lies one who ne'er car'd, and still cares not a pin What they said or may say of the mortal within; But who, living and dying, serene, still and free, Trusts in God that as well as he was he shall be.— POPE — Epitaph.

Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lies what once was Matthew Prior; The son of Adam and of Eve; Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?— PRIOR — Epitaph. Extempore.

I came at morn-'twas spring, I smiled, The fields with green were clad; I walked abroad at noon, and lo! 'Twas summer,-I was glad; I sate me down; 'twas autumn eve, And I with sadness wept; I laid me down at night, and then 'Twas winter, -and I slept.— MARY PYPER — Epitaph. A Life.

Johnny Carnegie lies here Descendit of Adam and Eve, Gif only can gang hieher, I'se willing give him leve. S. Epitaph in an old Scottish Churcyard.

After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.— Shakespeare — Hamlet. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 548.

And if your love Can labour aught in sad invention, Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night.— Shakespeare — Much Ado About Nothing. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 291.

Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.— Shakespeare — Henry V. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 230.

Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs.— Shakespeare — Richard II. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 144.

On your family's old monument Hang mournful epitaphs.— Shakespeare — Much Ado About Nothing. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 208.

You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, Than to live still and write mine epitaph.— Shakespeare — Merchant of Venice. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 117.

These are two friends whose lives were undivided: So let their memory be, now they have glided Under the grave; let not their bones be parted, For their two hearts in life were singlehearted.— SHELLEY — Epitaph.

The turf has drank a Widow's tear; Three of her husbands Slumber here. Epitaph at Staffordshire. Thou third great Canning, stand among our best And noblest, now thy long day's work hath ceased, Here silent in our minster of the West Who wert the voice of England in the East.— TENNYSON — Epitaph on Lord Stratford

De Redcliffe.