And sable Morpheus had his curtains spread,
And silent night had laid the world to bed,
'Mongst other night-birds which did seek for prey,
A blunt exciseman, which abhorr❜d the day,
Was rambling forth to seeke himself a booty
'Mongst merchant's goods which had not paid the duty:
But walking all alone, Death chanc'd to meet him,
And in this manner did begin to greet him.

DEATH.

Stand, who comes here? what means this knave to

peepe

And sculke abroad, when honest men should sleepe? Speake, what's thy name? and quickly tell me this, Whither thou goest, and what thy bus'ness is?

EXCISEMAN.

Whate'er my bus'ness is, thou foule-mouth'd scould, I'de have you know I scorn to be controul'd

By any man that lives; much less by thou,

Who blurtest out thou knowst not what, nor how;

I goe about my lawful bus'ness; and

I'le make you smarte for bidding of mee stand.

DEATH.

Imperious cox-combe! is your stomach vext?
Pray slack your rage, and harken what comes next:
I have a writt to take you up; therefore,

To chafe your blood, I bid you stand, once more.

EXCISEMAN.

A writt to take mee up! excuse mee, sir,
You doe mistake, I am an officer

In publick service, for my private wealth;

My bus'ness is, if any seeke by stealth
To undermine the states, I doe discover

Their falsehood; therefore hold your hand,-give over.

DEATH.

Nay, fair and soft! 'tis not so quickly done

As

you conceive it is: I am not gone

A jott the sooner, for your hastie chat

Nor bragging language; for I tell you flat

'Tis more then so, though fortune seeme to thwart us,
Such easie terms I don't intend shall part us.
With this impartial arme I'll make you feele
My fingers first, and with this shaft of steele
I'le peck thy bones! as thou alive wert hated,
So dead, to doggs thou shalt be segregated.

EXCISEMAN.

I'de laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare
To lay thy fingers on me; I'de not spare

To hack thy carkass till my sword was broken,
I'de make thee eat the wordes which thou hast spoken;
All men should warning take by thy transgression,
How they molested men of my profession.

My service to the states is so welle known,

That should I but complaine, they'd quickly owne

My publicke grievances; and give mee right
To cut your eares, before to-morrow night.

DEATH.

Well said indeed! but bootless all, for I
Am well acquainted with thy villanie;
I know thy office, and thy trade is such,
Thy service little, and thy gaines are much:
Thy braggs are many; but 'tis vaine to swagger,
And thinke to fighte mee with thy guilded dagger:
As I abhor thy person, place, and threate,
So now I'le bring thee to the judgement seate.

EXCISEMAN.

The judgement seate! I must confess that word

Doth cut my heart, like any sharpnèd sword:
What! come t' account! methinks the dreadful sound
Of every word doth make a mortal wound,
Which sticks not only in my outward skin,
But penetrates my very soule within.

'Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death
Would once attempt to stop excisemen's breath.
But since 'tis so, that now I doe perceive
You are in earnest, then I must relieve
Myself another way: come, wee'l be friends,
If I have wrongèd thee, I'le make th' amendes..
Let's joyne together; I'le pass my word this night
Shall yield us grub, before the morning light.
Or otherwise, (to mitigate my sorrow),

Stay here, I'le bring you gold enough to-morrow.

DEATH.

To-morrow's gold I will not have; and thou
Shalt have no gold upon to-morrow: now
My final writt shall to th' execution have thee,
All earthly treasure cannot help or save thee.

EXCISEMAN.

Then woe is mee! ah! how was I befool'd!

I thought that gold, (which answereth all things) could
Have stood my friend at any time to baile mee!
But griefe growes great, and now my trust doth faile

me.

Oh! that my conscience were but clear within,
Which now is rackèd with my former sin;
With horror I behold my secret stealing,
My bribes, oppression, and my graceless dealing;
My office-sins, which I had clean forgotten,
Will gnaw my soul when all my bones are rotten:
I must confess it, very griefe doth force mee,
Dead or alive, both God and man doth curse mee.
Let all Excisemen hereby warning take,

To shun their practice for their conscience sake.

FINIS.

London: printed by I. C[larke], 1659.

VI.

The Messenger of Mortality :

Or Life and Death contrasted in a Dialogue betwixt
Death and a Lady.

ONE of the most beautiful and plaintive poems of "Elia," (Charles Lamb), was suggested by this old dialogue. The tune is given in Chappell's "National English Airs." In Carey's "Musical Century," 1738, it is called the "Old tune of Death and the Lady." The four concluding lines of the present copy of "Death and the Lady" are found inscribed on tomb-stones in village church-yards in every part of England. They are not, however, contained in an old broadside edition now in the possession of Dr. Rimbault, and with which our reprint has been carefully collated.

DEATH.

FAIR lady, lay your costly robes aside,
No longer may you glory in your pride;
Take leave of all your carnal vain delight,
I'm come to summon you away this night!

LADY.

What bold attempt is this? pray let me know
From whence you come, and whither I must go?
Must I, who am a lady, stoop or bow

To such a pale-fac'd visage? Who art thou?

DEATH.

Do you not know me? well! I tell thee, then,
It's I that conquer all the sons of men!

No pitch of honour from my dart is free;

My name is Death! have you not heard of me?

LADY.

Yes! I have heard of thee time after time,

But being in the glory of my prime,