Fair, kind, and true, a treasure each alone, <br />A wife, a mistress, and a friend, in one; <br />Rest in this tomb, raised at thy husband's cost, <br />Here sadly summing, what he had, and lost. <br />Come, virgins, ere in equal bands ye join, <br />Come first and offer at her sacred shrine; <br />Pray but for half the virtues of this wife, <br />Compound for all the rest, with longer life; <br />And wish your vows, like hers, may be returned, <br />So loved when living, and, when dead, so mourned.<br /><br />John Dryden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-on-the-lady-whitmore/
