Middlesex
Stepney
On Mary Angel.
To say an angel here interr’d doth lye,
May be thought strange, for angels never dye;
Indeed some fell from heav’n to hell;
Are lost and rise no more;
This only fell from death to earth,
Not lost, but gone before;
Her dust lodg’d here, her soul perfect in grace,
Among saints and angels now hath took its place.
On Daniel Saul.
Here lies the body of Daniel Saul,
Spitalfield’s weaver—and that’s all.
William Wheatly.
Whoever treadeth on this stone,
I pray you tread most neatly;
For underneath the same doth lie
Your honest friend, Will Wheatly.