A Terrible Battle between the two consumers of the whole World: TIME, and DEATH.  
By Samuel rowland's.   depiction of Time and Death 
Printed at London for john Deane, and are to be sold at his shop 〈…〉   

To the wise and well accomplished Gent: M. George Gaywood, health and happiness.  
SIR, the great and good report which my beloved friend (the bearer hereof) hath given of you, hath made me more than half in love with you, which makes me think in some sort (as the rude and rustic phrase is) to scratch acquaintance of you. But sir believe it to be thus, for you shall find it so, that this is not done of purpose to draw from you any bounty or reward to me, for my Pen never was, nor never shallbe, (God saying Amen,) Mercenary: but to let you know that the bringer hereof, who doth acknowledge himself to be more indebted to you then his poor estate or dejected life can make satisfaction for) hath some friends, that will in some measure give you thanks for the more than fatherly kindness you have showed to him. This unspeakable love and kindness of yours extended to him, hath made me to dedicate this silly work unto you, which by the general report of your worthiness, I think unworthy your acceptance. But if it please you to call back again some of the love which you have heretofore borne him, and withal to consider that this is sent to you, but as a gratulation from me for him, than I make no doubt but you will accept it for his sake, if not, yet still I will rest your friend and well-willer, made so by my friend's report.  
S. R   

A bloody Battle betwixt Time and Death.  Time. 

DRead potent Monster, mighty from thy birth,  
Giant of strength, against all mortal power,  
God's great Earl Martial over all the earth:  
Taking account of each man's dying hour,  
Landlord of Graves, and Toombs of Marble stones,  
Lord Treasurer of rotten deadmen's bones.   

Victorious consort, Slautering Cavalier,  
Mated with me, to combat all alive,  
Know worthy Champion, I have met thee here,  
Only to understand how matters thrive:  
As our affairs alike in nature be,  
So let us love, confer, and kind agree.   

Great Register of all things under Sun,  
God's speedy post, that ever runs and flies,  
Ender of all that ever was begun,  
That hast the Map of life before thine eyes:  
And of all Creatures since the world's creation,  
Hast seen the final dusty consummation.   Death. 

Let me entreat thee pardon me a while,  
Because my business now is very great,  
I must go travail many a thousand mile,  
To look with care that Worms do lack no meat:  
There's many crawling feeders I maintain,  
I may not let those Cannibals complain.   

I must send murderers with speed to Hell,  
That there with horror they may make abode,  
I must show Atheists where the Devils dwell,  
To let them feel there is a powerful God:  
I must invyte the Glutton and the Liar,  
Unto a banquet made of flames of fire.   

I must bring PRIDE where Fashions are invented,  
[You idle headed Women, quake and fear]  
Your toyish fooleries will be prevented,  
A shoot of crawling Serpents you shall wear:  
You that endeavour only to go brave,  
What Hell affords, you shall be sure to have.   

I have the swagring Ruffian to dispatch,  
That moth and canker of the common wealth,  
The graceless Thief, that on the prey doth watch,  
The drunkard a carousing of his health:  
And of all sinners such a damned rout,  
As full of work as Death can stir about.   Time. 

This lawful business I do well allow,  
But in my absence how wilt thou proceed?  
I must be present too as well as thou,  
Before Time come thou canst not do the deed  
My Sith cuts down; upon thy dart they die,  
Thou hast an hour glass, and so have I.   

Look my kind Death, here is some sand to run,  
[What do I bid thee look that hast no eyes]  
Let's suffer their last minute to be done,  
Some man reputes the instant when he dies:  
As one example I remember chief.  
Of him that died a Saint, and lived a Thief.   Death 

Thou speakest it true, that penitent indeed  
Had never happy hour till his last,  
But of like second sinner who can read?  
From such a hellish life to heaven past,  
But one, to keep poor sinners from despair,  
And from presumption, one, and he most rare.   

Thou know'st all flesh that is of woman borne,  
Corruptly unto sin gives full consent.  
Serving the Devil with the finest corn,  
Their pleasure, youth, and strength, on him is spent:  
And when the night of age brings painful groans,  
Then in God's dish they cast their rotten bones.   

Who would not censure him a foolish man,  
To loiter out the spring and summer tide?  
And when another reaps, make seed time than  
Expecting what the season had denied,  
Yet such bad husband's hell affords good-cheap  
Will undertake to sow, when others reap.   

Some make my picture a most common thing,  
As if I were continual in their thought,  
A Death's h●d seal upon a great gold ring,  
And round about Memento Mori wrought:  
Which memory with gold cannot agree,  
For he that hates the same best thinks on me.   

I only am a welcome friend to such  
As know by me they enter unto rest,  
And that no second death their souls can touch,  
The peace of conscience harbours in their breast,  
And with the devil, flesh and world, still strive,  
Until at Canaan they do arrive.   

But Time for other thou shalt witness be,  
How most unwilling those same wretches die,  
Their ends thou daily dost behold and see,  
And canst inform the world I do not lie,  
With horror, grief, and anguish discontented,  
In soul, and body, furiously tormented.   Time 

Surely they are, their states cannot be told,  
We apprehend but outward things in sight,  
Most fearful are those objects to behold,  
That curse their birth and time they saw the light;  
Sin hath no salve but mercy, that they crave-not,  
Repentance, findeth grace, and that they havenot.   Death 

I came to kill a Usurer of late,  
And staying by his bed a while for thee,  
His speech was all of mony-bags and plate,  
But not a word of God: nor thought of me▪  
quick, fetch a scrivener, let a bill be drawn,  
Sirrah, your day is broke, i'll keep your pawn.   

Entreat me not: you should have kept time better,  
Thou shalt buy wit, a fool must feel the smart,  
Get me a Sergeant, to arrest a debtor,  
And with that word, my mace went through his heart,  
Thus died the wretch, with Money, Bond, and Bill,  
And if God have him, 'twas against his will.   

When this bad fellows date was thus crossed out,  
I do remember we came to a place  
Where lay a Dives groaning of the gout,  
Crying Lord, Lord, methought he meant for grace:  
Until I heard the burden of his song,  
Was, Lord where may this Doctor stay so long.   

Sir (quoth his wife) 'ttwere good have a Divine;  
Thou art a fool (said he) I need him not,  
I have a heart as perfect sound as thine,  
What is there not a Doctor to be got?  
A Doctor with all expedition wife,  
My legs will make me weary of my life.   Time 

This miser's answer I have noted friend,  
In sickness men on Doctors most rely  
Unto apothecary's shops they send  
Till physic gives them over, they must die:  
And when they see there is no way but one,  
Fetch a Divine, God shall be thought upon.   Death. 

'tis true indeed, but we'll give pilland potion  
To such as whole on outward means depend,  
And come to god for want, more than devotion,  
As forced unto it at their helpless end,  
For ere the doctor could a drink provide  
I stabbed my dart, thus deep into his side.   Death 

From him thou knowst we to a lawyer went,   Time. 

'tis right, we found him arguing of cases,  
This is (quoth he) the very laws intent,  
With that the golden fees came in by braces▪  
where's your instructions, and his declaration?  
I cannot answer thee, till next vacation.   

Come thou in Term thy matter shall be heard,  
Sir I remembered you the other day,  
The bill you wots off, I have now preferred,  
With that stepped I and said, friend Lawyer stay:  
An execution 'gainst your life I have,  
You must unto my jail, is called the Grave.   

Leaving him to the Sexton and the bells,  
We came unto a Merchant in this town  
That mighty bags of money over-tels,  
Wrapped very orderly in his night gown,  
Sirrah (quoth he) is not the post come yet?  
Make speed and sum me up this bill of debt.   

There can no ships come yet, I'll raise my price,  
Oh that the wind would hold but thus a while;  
There comes into my head an odd device,  
The very thought thereof doth make me smile▪  
Some shall be sure to pay if this gear hold,  
The plot is precious, and must yield me gold.   

Thus he sat plotting till I spoiled his brain,  
With Oh I feel myself exceeding sick,  
I gave his heart a gripe, it ground again,  
By this, on price of wares he would not stick  
But lay a gasping, while the bell did toll,  
And there his body lies without a soul.   

Next door to him, we found a London dame  
Upon her bed, with finger aching laid,  
And there most bitterly she did exclaim  
Against the misdemeanours of her maid,  
Base quean (quoth she) how dost thou make me fret?  
To see my ruff of that ilfavord set.   

Your manners housewife you have quite forgot,  
As sure as death i'll make your joints to bow,  
You whore, the poking iron is too hot,  
Durst thou presume to vex thy mistress now,  
If I were well thou quean I would not miss  
To had my fists about thine ears ere this,   

Let me not rise, for if I do; no more:  
Few words are best, I think you will repent it,  
I'll make you feel your sides this fortnight sore,  
Except Death cross my purpose and prevent it:  
With that I stepped between to part the Fray,  
The Maid scaped blows, and Mistress broke her day.   

A Muskie-Gentle, we did visit then,  
A Silken Gallant, very curious fine,  
That kept a swaggering crew of Servingmen,  
Whose rapyer-hylts imbrued with gold did shine,  
And for he would from all contention cease,  
He wisely bound his weapons to the Peace.   

One that would send his challenge to his Foe,  
And brave him out with paper in disgrace,  
But to the field, he always scorned to go,  
For he kept men, that would supply the place:  
He would preserve his life, yet send his Glove,  
His person must attend on Lady's love.   

Well this same signeur with the tender skin,  
That dedicateth all his days and hours  
To dancing, drunkenness, and Venus' sin,  
Never respecting Time and Death's stern powers  
Was met by me thinking his life secure,  
I killed the knave to keep my hand in ure.   

Where went we then, dost thou remember Time?   Time 

Yes very well, we visited a Poet,  
That tired invention day and night with rhyme  
And still on Venus' service did bestow it:   Death 

'tis true indeed a Poet was the next,  
With foolish idle love extremely vexed.   Time 

All that he did endeavour to devise,  
Was only Venus' praise, and Cupid's power,  
Within his head he had a mint of lies,  
On truth he never spent, in's life an hour:  
His fictions were to feed those in their pride,  
Who take delight to hear themselves belied.   

For slander, women to have virtues many,  
Admired their beauties, when they lack good faces,  
Say they have wit at will, not seeing any,  
Tell them their empty minds are full of graces:  
Why then they think you love them past compare,  
And every toy they wear becomes them rare.   

This Poet thus a sonneting we found,  
Rhyming himself even almost out of breath,  
Cupid (quoth he) thy cruel Dart doth wound,  
Oh grant me love, or else come gentle Death:   Death 

I heard him say, come gentle death in jest;  
And in good earnest granted his request.   Time 

Leave him a rotting, than we marched along  
Unto a Godly reverent grave divine,  
Whose faith on Christ was grounded firm and strong,  
And all his hope to heaven did he incline;  
At prayer devout, we found him on his knees,  
And with these words he spoke, his heart agrees.   

The wounds that JESUS suffered for my sin,  
Are mouths that cry, O love him with thy heart,  
The thorns that pierced thorough his flesh and skin,  
Are tongues, (pronouncing) Love is his desert,  
The torturing whips, that did to anguish move him,  
Are Echoes sounding, Wretched Sinner love him.   

With Peter's sins in greatness mine abound,  
Who by his oaths and curses Christ denied,  
And with the woman in Adultery found,  
The filthiness of sin in me doth bide:  
With magdalen's in multitudes they be,  
Her seven Devils, have infected me.   

The shame of sin upon my soul doth fall,  
That on the wretched Publican did light,  
The cruelty of sin I have with Paul  
To prosecute the holy and upright:  
And with the Thief, that all his life did ill,  
Unto my grave, my sins attend me still.   

Oh come sweet jesus, for thy servant comes,  
I do believe, Lord help my unbelief:  
My debt of sins amount to mighty sums,  
Of Mercies treasure only thou art chief:  
Though sins be red as scarlet, yet I know,  
Thy precious blood can wash them white as snow,   

To be dissolved, greatly I desire,  
This world doth pass, the things thereof are vain,  
To be with Christ, I only do require,  
And see the City where his Saints do reign,  
He is my life, Death is a gain to me,  
With that his soul ascends where Angels be.   Death 

A happy soul, one that had learned to die,  
And rightly understood his earthly state,  
Whose constant faith enfor'cd the Devil fly,  
That still assaulteth men with deadly hate,  
For thou knowst Time how that same hellhound strives  
About the hour that men yield up their lives.   

For in man's sickness Satan doth conceive,  
It may be mortal, that disease may end-him,  
And therefore no temptation he will leave,  
That to eternal torment he may send-him:  
'tis time (saith he) to do my most endeavour,  
If now I lose his soul, 'tis lost for ever.   

First then he'll tempt him to impatient mind,  
To grudge and to repine, at God's correction,  
Whereto with pain and grief he seems inclined,  
But finding grace preventeth that infection,  
He seeks to draw him to a pride of heart,  
To think himself a man of great desert.   

And one in whom perfection doth abound,  
That constantly adversities can bear,  
For his good works deserving to be crowned,  
And that of sin he need not stand in fear:  
If this cannot his soul for hell prepare,  
He labours then to drive him to despair.   

Compares God's judgements and his sins together,  
And bids his conscience look upon the law,  
Where damned souls remain, he must go thither,  
No mercy such a sinner ever saw;  
It stands not with God's justice for to savehim,  
The Devils come, and only he must have-him.   

Thus plots that foe, and thus he oft prevails,  
And doth enlarge his kingdom wondrous thus;  
Millions of souls go helward with these gales,  
When men from memory do banish us:  
" To count thee precious all men have great reason:  
" To think on me, is never out of season.   Time. 

Death, it is true but that same monster sin,  
That brood of hell, that devils eldest child,  
Which with the fall of Adam did begin,  
And all his offspring odious hath defiled:  
That Viper of the soul doth still appear,  
To all those sinners entertain it here.   

Sin, the despising of God's Majesty,  
And the contempt of his Eternal power,  
The death of Virtue, Grace's enemy,  
Canker of true felicities fair flower,  
The obscure darkness of man's understanding,  
Rebel to all the laws of Gods commanding.   

Sin, the director unto all mishap,  
The fetters of th'eternal vault of hell,  
The tempters net he useth to entrap,  
The price wherewith the Devils buy and sell,  
The seed of Satan daily by him sown  
In those hard hearts which are become his own.   

Sin, everlasting poison, cureless kill,  
The imitation of the evil spirits,  
Folly of men, to which the world runs willing,  
Pleasing destruction, filled with loathed delights,  
Souls pestilence, from dark infections Den,  
The cause of all God's plagues that light on men.   

Hath over man such rule and Empire got,  
And generally on earth bears such a sway,  
That there's not one doth good and sinneth not,  
The righteous falleth seven times a day:  
This is the cause the Lion roars about,  
And heavens narrow way, is hard found out.   Death 

True time: Well, than we went with expedition  
(Killing about some hundred by the way)  
Unto the mansion of a rare physician,  
That with my subjects bore a mighty sway,  
Of sick, and lame, and gouty, cry sort,  
Gave all of him a wonderful report.   

Within his hand he held a urinal,  
Which after he had viewed a little space,  
This party (quoth he) very shortly shall  
Be perfect well, and in a healthy case:  
There is no danger, do as I have wild,  
Yet that same person I had newly killed.   

To many he gave notes, what they should take,  
Some pill, some potion, others must let blood,  
And divers compounds some with speed must make,  
And on his life this physic would do good,  
Quoth I, Physician cure thyself fond man,  
Thou diest this hour, prevent it if thou can.   

About this time much work I had to do,  
As woeful London did both feel and see,  
A dreadful plague began six hundred two,  
Which did continue out six hundred three,  
The bloody business I had then in hand,  
Became a terror unto all the land.   

Deadly destruction was in ev'ry street,  
A daily mourning and a daily dying,  
Great use of Coffin, and of winding Sheet,  
From empty houses many hundreds flying:  
Each faculty, profession, and degree,  
took counsel with their legs to run from me.   

But how they sped experience can declare,  
How many left their lives upon the way,  
Poor mortals in my hands are brittle ware,  
Like Vapour, Bubble, Flower, withered Hay;  
Where can they run, but I am still behind-them?  
Where can they live secure, but I will find-them?   

The Citizens that out of plague time, ever  
Are entertained with welcomes in all Towns,  
To shun like Serpents, each man did endeavour,  
Amongst the rustic rude vi●ciuill Clowns,  
The name of Londoner, that very breath,  
Had power to terrify as much as death.   

Let him be friend or kinsman, what he will,  
Master, or servant, husband, or the wife:  
You must keep out, says jobson with his bill,  
The plagus about him neighbours on my life:  
Hear is no meat and drink for horse or man,  
Starve if thou wilt, or get it where thou can.   

God which detested cruelty seeing this,  
Gave us commission over all the land,  
That flesh and blood might know the plague was his,  
And he had power to strike or hold his hand:  
Then we his officers to work did go,  
And make the Country taste of Cities wo.   

How could they shun their own infection now?  
That held the Londoners contagious foes,  
What virtue can their wormwood smells allow,  
To charm the plague, for coming near their nose  
Angellica is but a rotten root,  
Hearbe-grace in scorn, I trample underfoot.   

unicorns horns not worth a marrowbone,  
Though men esteem so precious of the dust,  
Bugell is even as good as Beazer stone,  
If I but say, Sirrah away you must:  
Prepare thy soul, repent the guilt of sin,  
Coffin, and sheet, attend to take thee in▪   

I wonder what men think that daily see,  
Their friends and kindred carried to the grave,  
How they can count themselves secure to be,  
That not an hours time, of lifetime have;  
That find they are but tenants here at will,  
Yet live, as they could live freeholders still.   

Where's old Methuselah that long lived man?  
Whers's all the fathers saw so many days?  
Their lives were but the length of David's span,  
A vapour that most suddenly decay:  
theyare borne, grow strong, wax old, fall sick; and die,  
So other do: and others them supply.   

Where's that strong man that did so many kill?  
And admirable things by valour did,  
That carried Asah gates to Hebron hill,  
And rend a Lion like a tender kid:  
Look in the grave where this great man doth lie,  
There's no strength left, to kill a silly fly.   

where's that most rare and comely shaped prince,  
That would have pulled his Father from his throne?  
Whose like no age hath seen for feature since,  
Nor any age before his age had known:  
Not a lock left of all his goodly hair,  
Hundreds ago, his skull was bald, and bare.   

where's Hector gone, and Hercules become?  
What news with Pompey and Achilles now?  
Where marcheth Alexander with his drum,  
To Caesar's sceptre who doth yield or bow:  
Where are these great and mighty conquering one's,  
Time, show an ounce of dust of all their bones.   Time 

Death prithee stay, let this discourse stand by,  
And make me answer unto one request,  
Some doubt and difference is twixt thee and I,  
Which to resolve in my conceit were best,  
And this it is; The world exclaims on me,  
For divers actions that are done by thee.   

If thou stab children in their mother's womb,  
Or kill a king as soon as he is crowned,  
Or make the bloody field the Soldiers tomb,  
Or in the Seas cause thousands to be drowned,  
Why presently what will the people say?  
Their Time was come: thus Time bears blame away.   Death 

If this be all, let it not grieve thy heart,  
To hear thyself abused now and then,  
But i'll revenge, I vow it with my dart,   Time 

I marry wilt thou, but I prithee when:   Death 

To soon by many days i'll meet with some,  
If thou but say, strike for their Time is come.   Time 

I that's another matter, now you speak:  
By my glass all thy tragedies are acted,  
The prison of man's soul thou canst not break,  
With walls of flesh and blood, and bones compacted;  
Nor give the same enlargement to go free,  
Before my hand, to thy commission be.   

Thou know'st Time is God's agent in affairs,  
And hath been so, ever since the creation,  
Thou know'st he seateth Monarches in their chairs,  
Admitting kings unto their coronation:  
If long they reign, Time gives their years the length,  
If short they rule, Time cutteth off their strength.   

The ornaments of heaven, sun, and Moon,  
With all the glittering bravery of stars,  
Are taught by me, their morning, night, and noon,  
I order them, which else disorder mars:  
Their motions, revolutions, and aspects,  
Time with his just proportion, due directs.   Death 

Why what a bragging and a coil dost keep?  
Best take my dart, be Time, be Death and all,  
I'll into graves, and there go lie and sleep,  
And answer thou when God's affairs do call:  
Be Lord of Coffin, Pickaxe, Sheet, and spade,  
And do my work, with those in ground are laid.   

Thou art for kings, and thou dost this and that,  
And without thee, there's nothing to be done,  
To crown, depose, and do I know not what,  
Nay thou art busy with the Moon and Sun:  
Thou hast an ore in ev'ry body's boat,  
Upon my conscience thou beginnest to dote.   

I have been Death almost six thousand years,  
Yer never heard thee vaunt so vain before,  
Thou coun'st thyself my better it appears,  
But if thou dost, thy aim is wide a score;  
I tell thee Time, thou dost incense me now,  
Knowing myself a better man than thou.   

At least thyself knows I am full as good,  
Being God's steward, sins reward to pay,  
He that denies it I will see his blood,  
Be he the greatest Monarch lives this day;  
If he were Caesar of the earth's whole Globe,  
I'll make him poorer than the Devil made job.   

The mony-bag whose Idols in his chest,  
Whose Gods his gold, whose golds his prisoner,  
Whose thoughts are ever haunted with unrest,  
And loves that best, becomes his murderer:  
I take him sudden from huge heaps of treasure,  
The slave was scraping all his life times leisure.   

Wounds, heart, and blood, that will not sell his swearing  
To him would give him forty pound a year,  
That vows a tale is dull and harsh in hearing,  
Unless by oaths the matter be made clear:  
Oft when the tempter chiefly doth provoke-him,  
His mouth being filled with bitter oaths, I choke him.   

The swaggering Ruffian in his heady brawls,  
Whose hand is ever on his poniard hilt,  
That bloody frays his recreation calls,  
Chiefly delighted with foul murders guilt:  
Whose thoughts are only for the stab pretence,  
I have a trick for him and all his fence.   

The quaintly suited Courtier in attire,  
Whose looks are fixed no lower than the sky,  
Is crossed by me, in height of his desire,  
And under ground I make his carrion lie:  
He scorned the earth, and that I make his bed,  
Wrapped in a rotten sheet, from foot to head.   

And wheresoever, or what ere he be,  
For countenance, for credit and condition,  
Dignity, calling, office, or degree,  
Peasant, or prince, patiented, or else Physician:  
Even from the Crown and sceptre to the plough,  
I make all look as I myself do now.   

Perhaps thou thinkest because thy beard is grey,  
I own officious reverence to thine age,  
And must believe whatsoever thou say,  
Applauding thee chief actor on earth's stage:  
I'll never do it, Time expect it not,  
For at my hand there's nothing to be got.   

But prithee tell me, what is he fears Time?  
Not one upon my life that doth expect thee,  
For all the sinful brood of Adam's slime,  
Do every day, and every hour neglect thee:  
To use time well, who is not slow and slack?  
But with their evils, all men load thy back.   

Pirates and thieves take Time to fit their turn,  
Time must assist them ere they can prevail,  
The fawning flatterer doth Time suborn,  
To give him leisure for his lying tale;  
The lustful Lecher borrows thee by night,  
And makes Time pander to his sins delight.   

The scatter good, in Time consumes the wealth,  
That might sustain both him and his successor,  
The drunkard takes his Time to pledge a health  
Till drink, to wit and fence be an oppressor;  
Nay not an evil since the world begun,  
But Time was accessary till 'twas done.   Time. 

Well prithee slander on, i'll hear thee out,  
And thy untruths, with truth I will confute,  
Touching the wronging me, thou goest about,  
Thou art not able for thy life dispute:  
Death, thou'rt a lying fellow in this case,  
I scorn thee I, for using Time so base.   Death 

What (Father graybeard, doth your choler rise?  
Can you so ill digest to hear your crimes?   Time 

Why goodman boneface, with your vaulty eyes,  
What is't to me if men abuse their Times?  
Where learned your dry and empty pate the skill,  
That Time should answer for men's doings il.   

Man is ordained by th'almighty maker,  
To spend his Time of earthly pilgrim's state  
So holy, that he prove foul sins forsaker  
And with fair virtue finish out his date:  
I being the Time and limit for that use,  
My ill employment, is the world's abuse?   

What simple reason hath thy brain in store,  
That dost all sense so utterly forget?  
Shall I be charged to answer sinners score,  
That never passed my word to pay their debt:  
Prove that, and let all that is good detest me,  
thou'rt a lean knave: Take witness and arrest me.   Death 

By my darts point, (I swore not so this year,  
I'll fight with thee, next time we meet in field,   Time 

Why if thou hast a stomach try it here,  
I fear thee not, my sith is newly steeled:  
And take this warning ere the fray gins,  
Look to your legs, i'll crack those rotten shins.   

My shins you whoreson ugly prating slave,   Death 

Sirrah i'll keep you at the point aloof,  
For dotard know there's not a bone I have,  
But 'tis composed of stuff, full cannon proof,  
Lay on my legs an hour by thy glass,  
Als one, to hue a pillar made of brass.   Time 

Peace bragging fool, I laugh thy vaunts to scorn,  
Thy tongue inclines to much unto thy lying,  
Fear children with thy force but newly borne,  
And terrify the sick that lie a dying:  
I know the hour when God did first begin thee,  
Thy mould and making, and how much is in thee.   

Thy office is to murder and to kill,  
Stabbing of men, is solace to thy heart,  
Thou goest about and carriest with thee still,  
A Spade, and Pickaxe, Hourglass, and Dart:  
With one tool, thou dost give a cowards wound  
Unseen, and with other turn men under ground.   

Thou lookest like the inside of a tomb,  
All rotten bones, with sinews bound together,  
Thy guts are gone, for they lack belly room,  
And all thy flesh is lighter than a feather:  
Thy head is like an empty dry oil jar,  
Where neither teeth, nor nose, nor eyes there are.   

From ear to ear thou hast a mouth unshut,  
With arms and hands like to a gardeners rake,  
Thy ribs show like a leather jerkin cut,  
Thy voice resembles hissing of a snake:  
Thy legs appear a pair of Crane-stilts right,  
And all thy forms more ugly than a spirit.   

Thy picture stands upon the Alehouse wall,  
Not in the credit of an ancient story,  
But when the old wives guests begin to brawl,  
She points, and bids them read Memento mori:  
Look, look (says she) what fellow standeth there,  
As women do, when crying Babes they fear.   

No memory of worth to thee belongs,  
To call thee famous is condemned error,  
And though sometime thou'rt baletted in songs,  
Thy names employed unto no use but terror,  
Thy company both rich and poor defy,  
Loathsome to ear, most ugly to the eye.   Death 

Time, I perceive thou art disposed to rail,  
So am not I, my head is not so vain,  
Thy terms are very base, most scurvy stale,  
And thou'rt a testy old fool, for thy pain:  
What needst thou use this speeches unto me,  
A man so handsome thou wilt never be.   

Best shapen form, by nature's powerfulness,  
And sweetest face on which loves eyes do fawn,  
The chiefest stature, praised for comeliness,  
Are but my picture when the Curtains drawn:  
Remove the veil of flesh and blood away,  
'tis Death's true picture all the world will say.   

But what art thou, a foul misshapen monster,  
Behind all bald, a lock elle long before,  
With cloven feet, whereby a man may construe,  
Charon from hell hath brought thee late a shore,  
Which if he did, thy swiftness doth declare,  
Thou ranst away and never paid his fare.   

Actaeon's feet, (I would thou hadst his horns)  
Winged like an Owl, a Cat hath lent thee eyes▪  
A fugitive that never back returns,  
One that will run with Titan's horse in skies:  
Never to be entreated, stopped, or stayed,  
For whom repose and rest was never made.   

And dost thou think i'll pocket up disgrace,  
Of such a paltry rustic peasant boor,  
Nay rather I defy thee to thy face,  
Thou know'st me honest, though thou know'st me poor:  
I care for no man, all that live fear me,  
A fig for the whole world. A rush for thee.   Time 

Well art thou now revenged? prithee have done?  
Thou strivest to have the last word I dare swear it,   Death 

Why should I not as long as you begun,  
Fie, fie, I am ashamed that any man should hear it:   Time 

For were it known, we two were at contention,  
The world would laugh, and term it Mad dissension.   Death 

Give me thy hand, embrace, let choler pass:  
For my part I do bear thee no ill-will,   Time 

Take heed (good Death) thy bones will crack my glass,   Death. 

I would be loath to do thee so much ill:  
Lay down thy sith, as I lay down my dart:  
Shake hands, and so be friends before we part.   Time 

Where goest thou now, Marry hark in thine ear:   Death 

I have a Lady presently to kill:  
One that's at dice, and doth no danger fear?  
But have at all she says, come set me still:  
She is at passage, passing sound and well▪  
And little thinketh on the passing-bel.   

And then I go to bail an honest man,  
Lies in the Counter for a little debt,  
Whom's creditor in most extremes he can  
Doth deal withal, now he is in the net;  
He swears he'll keep him there this dozen year,  
Yet the knave lies, this night i'll set him clear.   

And then I go to see two fellows fight,  
(With whom there is no reason to be had)  
About a cup of wine they drank last night,  
One swore 'twas good, and other vowed 'twas bad;  
I'll give one that, no Chirurgeon's like to heal,  
And with the t'other let the hangman deal.   

And hundreds more, come Time with speed along,  
About our business we have stood here now:  
Till Priest, and Clerk, and Sexton have the wrong,  
More dead work for their profit let's allow:  
My dart is dry, there's no fresh blood thereon,  
We suffer sick to lie too long and groan.   
Hark a monstrous rich fellow a Citizen.  Time. 

we'll take him with us even in the way,  
(Prithee be thou a quiet man a while)  
Some hour, by my glass he hath to stay,  
Before the date be come of his exile;  
And then in such a hole he shall be placest,  
He is not like be seen again in haste▪   

The villains rich, exceeding rich indeed,  
And loves a bag of gold most dearly well,  
His wife is of a proud and dainty breed,  
And for embracing fashions doth excel:  
She married him for pure love to his wealth,  
But hath a friend for other thing by stealth.   

His children long, as miser's children do,  
To be a sharing, ery months a year,  
They hope he'll die, their minds consent thereto,  
And then their gallant humours will appear,  
The angels kept in darkness by his might,  
Shalby their power approach and come to light.   

Vintner's make welcomes ready for they come,  
Let them not want (I pray) Potato pies,  
And Cheaters with false dice look out for some,  
No little profit to your snares will rise:  
But Bawds and whores have you a special care,  
To fit them penniworths with your pocky ware:   

As the oppresser got it wicked in,  
The prodigal will send it vainly out,  
One wickedness requites another's sin,  
If vengeance have a plague to bring about:  
For what is got by rapine and by wrong,  
The Devil will be doer in't ere long.   

Let them have Lordships, and be Lords of Towns,  
Let them enjoy the world, at wit and will,  
Let them bequeath five hundred mourning gowns,  
And prosper all their days in doing ill:  
Give back their goods when life is almost spent,  
As judas when to hang himself he went.   

What of all this, it warrants not from hell?  
The wicked getting is not justified,  
Because the rich disposeth riches well,  
Wrong gotten, and well given when he died:  
For 'tis like him, steals from another's store,  
And of that coin gives alms unto the poor.   

The usurer whom God forbids as plain,  
Take any interest, as the thief from stealing,  
And yet will venture soul for money gain,  
Oppressing all that undergo his dealing,  
Thinks it enough to make an honest will,  
How ere he got his goods, that shall not skill.   

Thus men delude, deeeive, beguile, betray  
Themselves, their souls, their hope, their happiness:  
Running the common beaten passage way,  
That leads to hell, the haunt of all distress:  
And like the foolish Virgins knock too late,  
When there's no entrance in at heavens gate.   

One builds a house, and titles that his own,  
Gives it his name, to keep his name in sound,  
When presently a grave with one square stone,  
Will serve his bodies turn to lie in ground,  
Ten thousand pounds his costly house requires,  
A coffin of a crown's all death desires.   

Another falls to purchasing of land,  
he'll have it out of Orchard, field, and wood,  
And only with his humour it doth stand,  
To get much in his hand, and do no good:  
This Mole that in the earth is moiling thus,  
With six foot ground is satisfied by us.   Death 

No more, away, look here my glass is out,  
Thou art to tedious Time in telling tales,  
Our bloody business let us go about,  
Thousands are now at point of death, breath fails:  
To work, to work, and lay about thee man,  
Let's kill as fast, as for our lives we can.   

Hark, listen Time, I pray give ear,  
What bell is that a tolling there?   
FINIS.