Guildford
Reader, pass on, ne’er waste your time
On bad biography and bitter rhyme;
For what I am, this cumb’rous clay insures,
And what I was, is no affair of yours.
Beddington
Thomas Greenhill.
Under thy feet interr’d is here
A native born in Oxfordshire;
First life and learning Oxford gave,
Surry him his death and grave;
He once a Hill was fresh and Greene,
Now withered is not to be seene;
Earth in earth shovell’d up is shut,
A Hill into a Hole is put;
But darksome earth by Power Divine,
Bright at last as the sun may shine.