I can’t nor won’t believe that you, pale Death, Were sent this day to stop my vital breath, By reason I in perfect health remain, Free from diseases, sorrow, grief, and pain; No heavy heart, nor fainting fits have I, And do you say that I am drawing nigh The latter minute? sure it cannot be; Depart, therefore, you are not sent for me! DEATH. Yes, yes, I am, for did you never know, The tender grass and pleasant flowers that grow Perhaps one minute, are the next cut down? And so is man, though famed with high renown. Have you not heard the doleful passing bell Ring out for those that were alive and well The other day, in health and pleasure too, And had as little thoughts of death as you? For let me tell you, when my warrant’s sealed, The sweetest beauty that the earth doth yield At my approach shall turn as pale as lead; ’Tis I that lay them on their dying bed. I kill with dropsy, phthisic, stone, and gout; But when my raging fevers fly about, I strike the man, perhaps, but over-night, Who hardly lives to see the morning light; I’m sent each hour, like to a nimble page, To infant, hoary heads, and middle age; Time after time I sweep the world quite through; Then it’s in vain to think I’ll favour you. RICH MAN. Proud Death, you see what awful sway I bear, For when I frown none of my servants dare Approach my presence, but in corners hide Until I am appeased and pacified. Nay, men of greater rank I keep in awe Nor did I ever fear the force of law, But ever did my enemies subdue, And must I after all submit to you? DEATH. ’Tis very true, for why thy daring soul, Which never could endure the least control, I’ll thrust thee from this earthly tenement, And thou shalt to another world be sent. RICH MAN. What! must I die and leave a vast estate, Which, with my gold, I purchased but of late? Besides what I had many years ago?— What! must my wealth and I be parted so? If you your darts and arrows must let fly, Go search the jails, where mourning debtors lie; Release them from their sorrow, grief, and woe, For I am rich and therefore loth to go. DEATH. I’ll search no jails, but the right mark I’ll hit; And though you are unwilling to submit, Yet die you must, no other friend can do,— Prepare yourself to go, I’m come for you. If you had all the world and ten times more, Yet die you must,—there’s millions gone before; The greatest kings on earth yield and obey, And at my feet their crowns and sceptres lay: If crownèd heads and right renownèd peers Die in the prime and blossoms of their years, Can you suppose to gain a longer space? No! I will send you to another place.