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A Dialogue between a Blind
man and Death.
Blind Man,
TH E more Men ſee, the leſs they do enquire,
The worſe they ſee, the more they do deſire,
Others to grant what Blindneſs cannot give,
And for Intelligence grow inquiſitive;
They ask to be inform'd, who cannot ſee,
I knew't by ſad Experience, woes me!
Death.
Where are you, Sir? what fitting all alone?
I did ſuppofe 'twas you by this ſad Moan
Coming this way to gather what's my due,
I thought it not amiſs to call on you.,
Blind Man.
I do not know that Voice, 'tis fure fome Stranger,
And by his Words he ſeems to bode me danger.
Death.
You gueſs aright, Sir, and before I go,
Know me you ſhall, whether you will or no.
Blind Man
Why, what are you? Pray tell me what's your Name
And what's your Buſineſs, alſo whence you came?
Death
I will declare what no Man can deny,
There's none ſo great a Traveller as I;
Yet you muſt know I am no wandring Rover,
For my Dominions lie the World all over;
I march through Court and Country, Town and City
I know not how to fear, or how to pity.
The higheſt Cedar, and the loweſt Flower,
Sooner or later do both feel my Power.
The might'eſt Emp'rors do ſubmit to me,
Nor is the pooreſt tatter'd Beggar free.
