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Blind Man.
If this be all the Miſchief thou can do
Your Harbingers deserve more dread than you,
Diſeaſes are your Harbingers, I'm ſure,
Many of which are grievous to endure;
But when once dead, I ſhall not then complain,
of Cold or Hunger, Poverty or Pain.
Death.
There's one Thing more which I to Mind do call,
When once I come, then come I once for all;
And when my ſtroke doth Soul and Body ſever,
What's left undone; muſt be undone forever.
Blind Man.
That is a great Truth, which I've learn'd to know,
There is no working in the Grave below,
To be before Hand therefore will I try.
That then I may have nought to do but die.
But tell me, Sir, do all Men die alike?
Death.
To me they do, for whom God bids I ſtrike;
Look how the Fooliſh die, ſo die the Wiſe,
As do the Righteous, ſo the Sinner dies:
The greateſt Difference will be hereafter,
But that's a Thing which is beyond my Charter;
That I to ſome prove better, to ſome worſe,
To ſome a Bleffing, and to fome a Curſe.
That's none of mine, I dare not undertake it,
'Tis God'sAppointment and MensWorks that make it,
Hence 'tis that Sinners Troubles never ceaſe,
But the end of the upright Man is Peace.
Blind Man.
There now remains but only one Thing more,
Will not your Power be one Day out of Door?
Death.
Muft I needs tell you, Sir, 'tis certain true,
There is a Death for me as well as you;
And mines the worſt, for I muſt die for ever,
You may revive again, but I ſhall never,
Death
