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Epitaph found on a crossroad on a Statue. by Mr Hamilton on himself, now Marquis of [[underline]] Abercorne. -- [[/underline]] Here rot the remains of a poor silly youth Who never drank wine, & who always spoke truth His head and his heart were too often at strife And he never took one prudent step in his life. He had not the graces, God help him that has By birth not a beggar, he looked what he was. But he never could pass for a pretty fellow His bones were too bare, and his face was too yellow. He strove to be valued by those he loved best But had not the talents of pleasing the rest. They thought him a mass of reserve, pride, & whim They might think what they pleased, it was all ˄ [[addition]] one [[/addition]] to him. Some thought he had not wit, and some thought he had Some thought him well meaning, all thought him mad For he seem'd not to know what all men advance That freindship is nonsense, & honor romance.
