Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England | Page 9

language; for I tell you flat
'Tis more than so, though fortune seem to
thwart us,
Such easy terms I don't intend shall part us.
With this
impartial arm I'll make you feel
My fingers first, and with this shaft
of steel
I'll peck thy bones! AS THOU ALIVE WERT HATED,
SO
DEAD, TO DOGS THOU SHALT BE SEGREGATED.
EXCISEMAN.
I'd laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare
To lay thy fingers on me;
I'd not spare
To hack thy carcass till my sword was broken,
I'd
make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken;
All men should
warning take by thy transgression,
How they molested men of my
profession.
My service to the State is so well known,
That should I
but complain, they'd quickly own
My public grievances; and give me
right
To cut your ears, before tomorrow night.
DEATH.
Well said, indeed! but bootless all, for I
Am well acquainted with thy
villany;
I know thy office, and thy trade is such,
Thy service little,
and thy gains are much:
Thy brags are many; but 'tis vain to swagger,

And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger:
AS I ABHOR THY
PERSON, PLACE, AND THREAT,
So now I'll bring thee to the
judgment-seat.
EXCISEMAN.
The judgment-seat! I must confess that word
Doth cut my heart, like
any sharpened 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 soul 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 do perceive
You are
in earnest, then I must relieve
Myself another way: come, we'll be
friends;
If I have wronged thee, I'll make th' amends.
Let's join
together; I'll pass my word this night
Shall yield us grub, before the
morning light.
Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow),
Stay here, I'll
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 writ shall to th' execution have thee,
All
earthly treasure cannot help or save thee.
EXCISEMAN.
Then woe is me! ah! how was I befooled!
I thought that gold (which
answereth all things) could
Have stood my friend at any time to bail
me!
But grief grows great, and now my trust doth fail me.
Oh! that
my conscience were but clear within,
Which now is racked 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 grief doth force me,
Dead or alive, both God and
man doth curse me.
LET ALL EXCISEMEN hereby warning take,

To shun their practice for their conscience sake.
Poem: THE MESSENGER OF MORTALITY; OR LIFE AND
DEATH CONTRASTED IN A DIALOGUE BETWIXT DEATH
AND A LADY.
[One of Charles Lamb's most beautiful and plaintive poems was
suggested by this old dialogue. The tune is given in Chappell's Popular
Music, p. 167. 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 contained,
however, in the broadside 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-faced 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,
I did not think you would have called so soon.
Why must
my morning sun go down at noon?
DEATH.
Talk not of noon! you may as well be mute;
This is no time at all for
to dispute:
Your riches, garments, gold, and jewels brave,
Houses
and lands must all new owners have;
Though thy vain heart to riches
was inclined,
Yet thou must die and leave them all behind.
LADY.

My heart is cold; I tremble at the news;
There's bags of gold, if thou
wilt me excuse,
And seize on them, and finish thou the strife
Of
those that are aweary of their life.
Are there not many bound in prison
strong,
In bitter grief of soul have languished long,
Who could but
find the grave a place of rest,
From all the grief in which they are
oppressed?
Besides, there's many with a hoary head,
And palsy
joints, by which their joys are fled;
Release thou them whose sorrows
are so great,
But spare my