There I to her, as th'author of my blisse, Will builde an altar to appease her yre; And on the same my hart will sacrifise, Burning in flames of pure and chaste desyre: The which vouchsafe, O Goddesse, to accept, Amongst thy deerest relicks to be kept.

When Elrington died, two years after the taking off of Oldfield, his epitaph was written in these flattering lines: "Thou best of actors here interr'd, No more thy charming voice is heard, This grave thy corse contains: Thy better part, which us'd to move Our admiration, and our Love, Has fled its sad remains. "Tho' there's no monumental brass, Thy sacred relicks to encase, Thou wondrous man of art!

However, by the application of levers, it was, at length, raised, and conveyed to a corner of the field, where it lay, for some months, entirely unregarded; nor, perhaps, had we ever been made acquainted with this venerable relick of antiquity, had not our good fortune been greater than our curiosity.