human
Here likewise lyes Inhumed in one bed, Dear Barbara, The well-beloved wife Of this remembered Knight; Whose souls are fled From this dimure vale To everlasting life, Where no more change, Nor no more separation, Shall make them flye From their blest habitation. Grasse of levitie, Span in brevity, Flower's felicity, Fire of misery, Wind's stability, Is mortality.
gpt
Honey Lane, says good old Stow,