Death prepares one gen'ral fate
For the lowly and the great,
Humble cot and palace tall. Equal laws the Sisters make, Kings' and peasants' threads they take,
And one weapon cuts them all.

The great, the vile, the coward, and the brave,
Are food alike for worms, companions in the grave.
The prince and parasite together lye,
No fortune can exalt, but Death will climb as high.

Death is the port where all may refuge find,
The end of labour, entry unto rest.

Death was for-the other people.