The Great Messenger of Mortality: Or,
A Dialogue betwixt DEATH and a LADY;
From whence it appears,
That Death is no Respecter of Persons, either for Birth or Beauty; so that as sure as we are
born, we shall certainly die. Therefore, Let us prepare ourselves against that Hour and
Time, that he may appear as a welcome Messenger that bringeth glad Tidings.
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DEATH.
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FAIR Lady, lay your costly Robes aside,
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No longer may you glory in your Pride,
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Take leave of all your carnal vain Delight,
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I'm come to summon you away this Night.
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LADY.
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What bold Attempt is this? Pray let me know
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From whence you come, and whither must i go?
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Shall i who am a Lady yield or bow
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To such a pale-fac'd Visage, Who art Thou?
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DEATH.
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Do you not know me? Well, I'll tell you then,
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'Tis I that conquer all the Sons of Men;
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No pitch of Honour from my Dart is free,
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My Name is Death, Have you not heard of me?
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LADY.
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Yes, I have heard of you Time after Time,
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But being in the Glory of my Prime,
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I did not think that thou wouldst call so soon,
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Why must my Morning Sun go down at Noon?
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DEATH.
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Talk not of Noon, you may as well be mute,
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This is no Time at all for to dispute;
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Your richest Jewels, Gold and Garments brave,
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Your Houses and Lands they must new Masters have.
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LADY.
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My Heart is cold, and tremble at the News,
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Here's Bags of Gold if thou wilt me excuse,
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And seize on those, thus finish thou the Strife,
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With such who are a weary of their Life;
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Are there not many bound in Prison strong,
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In bitter Grief of Soul have anguish'd long,
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From all would find a Grave a Place of Rest,
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From all their Grief in which they are opprest.
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Besides, there's many with their hoary Head,
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And Palsey Joints, by which their Jaws are fled.
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Release thou them, whose Grief and Sorrow's great,
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And spare my Life to have a longer Date.
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DEATH.
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Though they with age are full of Grief and Pain,
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While their appointed Time they must remain.
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I come to none before my Warrant's seal'd,
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And when it is they must submit and yield;
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I take no Bribes, believe me, this is true,
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Prepare yourself to go, I am come for you.
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LADY.
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Death, Be not so severe, let me obtain
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A little longer Time to live and reign.
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Fain would I stay, if thou my Life wilt spare;
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I have a Daughter beautiful and fair,
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I'd live to see her wed, whom I adore,
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Grant me but this, and then I'll ask no more.
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DEATH.
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This is a slender frivolous Excuse,
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I have you fast, and will not let you loose;
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Leave her to Providence, for you must go
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Along with me, whether you will or no:
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I Death command great Kings to leave their Crown,
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And at my Foot they lay their Scepters down.
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If unto Kings this Favour I'll not give,
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But cut them down, Can you suppose to live
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Beyond the Limits of your Time and Space?
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No, I must send you to another Place.
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LADY.
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You learned Doctors, now express your Skill,
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And let not Death of me obtain his Will;
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Prepare your Cordials, let me Comfort find,
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My Gold shall fly like Chaff before the Wind.
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DEATH.
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Forbear to call, their Skill will never do,
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They are but Mortals here as well as you;
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I give the Wound, my Dart is sure,
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'Tis far beyond a Doctor's Skill to cure.
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How freely can you let your Silver fly,
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To purchase Life, rather than yield to dy?
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But while you flourish here in all your Store,
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You cannot spare one Penny to the Poor.
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In all your Pomp the Poor you then did hate,
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And, like rich Dives, scourg'd them from your Gate.
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But tho' you did, those whom you thus did scorn,
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They like yourself into this World were born.
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Tho' for your Alms they did both cringe and bow,
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They bore God's Image here as well as you.
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Tho' in his Name their Suit to you they make,
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You would not give one Penny for his Sake;
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My Lord beheld wherein you did amiss,
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And call'd you hence to give account for this.
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LADY.
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O heavy News, Must I no longer stay?
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How shall I stand, good God, in thy great Day?
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Down from her Eyes the dying Tears did flow,
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And said, There's none knows what I undergo:
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Upon a Bed of Sorrow here I lie,
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My Carnal Life makes me afraid to Die;
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My Sins, alas, are many, gross and foul,
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Lord Jesus Christ have Mercy on my Soul,
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And though I do deserve thy righteous Frown,
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Yet pardon, Lord, and pour a Blessing down.
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Then with a dying Sigh her Heart did break,
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And did the Pleasures of this World forsake.
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Here may we see the High and Mighty Fall;
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For Death he shews us no Respect at all,
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To anyone of High and Low Degree,
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Great Men submit to Death as well as we
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Though they are gay, their Lives are but a Span,
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A Lump of Clay, so poor a Creature's MAN.
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