Goodbye, my loved child, my happiness,

My sin was too hope too much of you, my loved boy,

Taken by determined fate, on the exact day

Oh, could I never have become a father now!

Why does a man grieve over state that he envies?

To have so soon escaped the world’s impurity and rage

and if no other punishment is enough, continue to live?

Rest in peace, and if asked say “Here lies Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry”

For whoevers sake in the future, his vows will be like so

as what he loves may never like too much