Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of King James the First. 1847. Lines from “London’s Miserie, etc.” XCIII. Richard Milton
SUCH 1 is the force of Death’s fell conquering hand, That none in this world can his power withstand. ’Tis not the power of a mighty king Can serue to free him from Death’s deadly sting, Much less the title of a lord or knight 5 Can keepe their persons from this pale-fac’t wight. ’Tis not the wisdome of a learned man— No, there is neither arte nor wisedome can Be forcible enough, with arte or will, Eyther to stay Death’s stroke, or him beguile. 10 Marke it, I pray you, how he makes men reele; His bow is iron sure, and his arrowes steele. How many through his might doe daily dye, How many likewise doe there sprawling lye, How many also dead in fields are found, 15 And suddainly in streetes do fall to ground Euen as they passe, and them before were well, And felt but little paine vntill they fell.
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