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God's Mercy abus'd, Death ſent.
His Glaſs juſt run, he's even out of Breath,
Ready to yield his Life to conquering Death,
Who will no longer Favour his old Age,
But is reſolved in his Death t'engage;
It peeps behind the Curtain in his Face,
And draws the ſame then dreadful is his Caſe;
His Tongue doth faulter and his Veins they ſtart
Like Sticks aſunder, nay his very Heart
Ceaſeth its Motion, and his Virals gone;
So that at laſt he's colder than a Stone:
His Kinsfolk dear his dying Eyes do ſhut,
And for his Bed into a Coffin put.
But when his Soul hath parted clean away,
And left the Body like a lump of Clay,
The Carcaſe is no colder than the Love,
of Wife and Friends, who do forgetful prove,
And 'cauſe he cannot go he's carried forth,
Accompany'd with all his Friends of Worth:
Hir'd Mourners ſhow his Years and Pomp ſo brave,
Convey him to his cold and ſad like Grave;
But when they come to Death's pale Habitation,
And ſees the Pit which gape with Deſolation,
They throw the naked Coffin in, of all
His Freinds, not one for Love will with him fall
All get them gone, he ſtill alone doth ly,
A rotten Worm-bait, Tale of Mortality.
The Vanity of his Wealth.
Thus ends his earthly Splendor and his pleaſure.
Wife, Children, Kinsfolk and his Bags of Treaſure,
Are left behind to hold the ſame Eſtate
A little while, but Follow muſt his Fate:
Nay they're not fure t'enjoy it half a Day,
For Death doth oft ſweep Families away.
The Infant's inſtantly depriv'd of's Mother,
Husband from's Wife, the Siſter from her Brother
Children
