All write at London; shall the rage abate Here, where it most should shine, the muses' seat? Where, mortal or immortal, as they please, The learn'd may choose eternity, or ease?...
If fond of what is rare, attend! Here lies an honest man, Of perfect piety, Of lamblike patience, My friend, James Barker; To whom I pay this mean memorial, For what deserves the greatest....
An Epilogue, through custom, is your right, But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night: To-night the virtuous falls, the guilty flies, Guilt's dreadful close our narrow scene denies....