An answer. +
I F that thy wicked wife had spon the thread, And were the weauer of thy wo: Then art thou double happy to be dead, As happely dispatched so. (5) If rage did causelesse cause thee to complayne, And mad moode mouer of thy mone: If frensy forced on thy testy braine: Then blist is she to liue alone. So, whether were the ground of others grefe, (10) Because so doutfull was the dome: Now death hath brought your payne a right relefe, And blessed be ye both become: She, that she liues no longer bound to beate The rule of such a froward hed: (15) Thou, that thou liuest no lenger faine to feare The restlesse ramp that thou hadst wed, Be thou as glad therfore that thou art gone, As she is glad she doth abide: For so ye be a sonder, all is one: (20) A badder match can not betide.
An epitaph of maister Henry
F Rom worldly wo the mede of misbelefe, From cause of care that leadeth to lament, From vaine delight the ground of greater grefe, From feare for frendes, from matter to repent, (5) From painefull pangs last sorowe that is sent, From dred of death sith death doth set vs free: With it the better pleased should we be. This lothsome life where likyng we do finde, Thencreaser of our crimes, doth vs bereue (10) Our blisse that alway ought to be in minde. This wily world whiles here we breath aliue, And flesh our fayned fo, do stifly striue To flatter vs assuryng here the ioy, Where we, alas, do finde but great annoy.