A
DIALOGUE
BETWEEN
Death and a Lady
Very suitable for these Times.
Death.
FAIR Lady lay your costly Robes aside,
No longer may you glory in your Pride;
Take Leave of all your carnal vain Delight,
I'm come to Summon you away this Night.
Lady.
What bold attempt is this, Pray let me know
From whence you came, of whither must I go;
Shall I, who am a Lady yeild or bow,
To such a pale fac'd Visage, who art thou?
Death.
Do you not know me? Well, I'll tell you then,
'Tis I that conquer all the Sons of Men;
No Pitch fo Honour from my Dart is free,
My Name is Death, have you not heard of me?
Lady.
Yes, I have heard of you time after time,
But being in the Glory fo my Prime,
I did not think that thou wouldst call so soon,
Why must my Morning Sun go down at Noon?
Death.
Talk not of Noon, you may as well be mute,
This is no time at all for to dispute.
Your richest Jewels, Gold, and Garments brave,
Your Houses, Lands they must new Masters have,
Though thy vain Heart to Riches was inclin'd,
Yet thou, alas! must leave them all behind.
Lady.
My Heart is cold, I tremble at the News,
Here's Bags of Gold if thou wilt me excuse,
And seize on those, thus finish thou the Strife,
With such who are aweary of their Life.
Are there not many bound in Prison strong,
In bitter grief of Soul have languish'd long.
From all would find a Grave a Place of Rest,
From all their Grief in which they are opprest?
Besides there's many with their Hoary Head,
And Palsie Joynts, by which their Joys are fled.
Release thou them whose Grief and Sorrow's great,
And spare my Life to have a longer Date.
Death.
Tho' they with Age are full of Grief and Pain,
While their appointed Time they must remain,
I come to none before my Warrent's seal'd,
And when it is they must submit and yield:
I take no Bribes, believe me, it is true,
Prepare your self to go, I come for you.
Lady.
Death, be not so severe, let me obtain,
A little longer Time to live and Reign;
Fain would I stay, if thou my Life wilt spare,
I have a Daughter Beautiful and Fair,
I'd live to see her Wed, whom I adore;
Grant me but this and then I'll ask no more.
Death.
This is a slender frivolous Excuse,
I have you fast, and will not let you loose;
Leave her to Providence, for you must go
Along with me whether you will or no.
I Death command great Kings to leave their Crown,
And at my Feet to lay their Scepter down;
If unto Kings this Favour I'll not give,
But cut them down, can you expect to live
Beyond the Limits of your time and space?
No, I must send you to another Place.
Lady.
You learned Doctors now express your Skill;
And let not Death of me obtain his Will;
Prepare your Cordials, let me Comfort find,
My Gold shall fly like Chaff before the Wind.
Death.
Forbear to call, their Skill will never do,
They are but Mortals here as well as you.
I give the fatal Wound, my Dart is sure,
'Tis far beyond a Doctor's Skill or cure.
How freely can you let your Silver fly
To purchase Life, rather than to yield to die:
But while you flourish'd here in all your Store,
You would not spare one Penny to the Poor.
In all your Pomp the Poor you then did hate,
And like rich Dives, scourg'd them from thy Gate.
But tho' you did those whom thus you did scorn,
They like to you into this World were born;
Tho' for your Alms they did both cringe and bow,
They bore GOD's Image here as well as you.
Tho' in his Name their Suit to you they make,
You would not give one Penny for his sake;
My Lord beheld wherein you did amiss,
And calls you hence to give account for this.
Lady.
O heavy News! Must I no longer stay?
How shall I stand good God, in thy great Day
Down from her Eyes the dying Tears did flow
And said, there's none knows what I undergo
Upon a Bed of Sorrow here I lie,
My carnal Life makes me afraid to die;
My Sins, alas! are many great and foul,
Which have deformed my immortal Soul;
And tho' I do deserve the righteous Frown,
Yet Pardon, Lord and pour a Blessing down;
Then with a dying Sigh her Heart did break,
And did the Pleasures fo the World forsake.
Here we may see the High and Mighty fall,
For Death he sheweth no Respect at all,
To any one of high or low Degree,
Great Men submit to Death as well as we;
Tho' they are gay, their Lives are but a Span,
A Lump of Clay, so poor a Creature's MAN.
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