A DIALOGUE Between a Blindman and Death.  Blindman. 
The more men see, the less they do inquire;  
The worse they see, the more they do desire  
Others to grant what Blindness cannot give,  
And for Intelligence grow inquisitive.  
They ask to be informed, who cannot see;  
I know't by sad experience, Woe is me!  Death 
Where are you, Sir? What sitting all alone?  
I did suppose 'twas you by that sad moan:  
Coming this way to gather what's my due,  
I thought it not amiss, to call on you.  Blindman. 
I do not know that voice; 'tis sure some Stranger;  
And by his words, he seems to bode me danger.  Death. 
You guess aright, Sir; and before I go,  
I'll make you know me, whether you will or no.  Blindman. 
Why what are you? Pray tell me what's your Name,  
And what's your business, and from whence you came.  Death. 
I will declare what no man can deny,  
There's none so great a Traveller as I:  
Yet you must know, I am no wand'ring Rover,  
For my Dominion lies the World all over;  
I march through Court and Country, Town and City,  
I know not how to fear, nor how to pity.  
The highest Cedar, and the lowest Flower,  
Sooner or later do both feel my Power:  
The mightiest Emperor doth submit to me,  
Nor is the poorest tattered Beggar free;  
In Peace, I glean here one, and there another;  
Sometimes I sweep whole streets, both one and tother.  
In time of War, thus much I can divine;  
Whoever gets the day, the Triumphs mine.  
I am a potent and a high Commander,  
'Twas I that conquered the Great Alexander,  
Though mighty Nations under's foot he trod,  
And had th' Ambition to be thought a God;  
Yet, after all the Victories he had won,  
I made him know he was but Philip's Son.  
Were you Goli●●h great, or Sampson-strong,  
Were you as wise, as rich as Solomon:  
Were you as Nestor, Old; as Infant, Young;  
Had you the fairest Cheeck, the sweetest Tongue;  
Yet you must stoop, all these will nought avail:  
For my Arrest does not admit of Bail;  
And to deal plainly, Sir, my name is Death,  
And 'tis my business to demand your Breath.  Blindman. 
My Breath and Life shall both go out together,  Death. 
And on that Errand 'twas, that I came hither.  
I'll have both Breath and Life without delay:  
You must and shall dispatch; come, come, away.  Blindman. 
What need such Posting haste? Pray Change your mind;  
'Tis a poor Conquest to surprise the Blind.  Death. 
You may not call it Posting, nor Surprise;  
For you had warning when you lost your Eyes.  
Nor could you hope your House could long be free,  
After the Windows were possessed by me.  Blindman. 
But Life is sweet; and who'd not, if he might,  
Have a long day, before he bid good Night?  
O spare me yet awhile! slight not my Tears.  Death. 
Hard Hearts and hungry Bellies have no Ears.  Blindman. 
I am not yet quite ready for the Table.  Death. 
All's one to me; I am inexorable.  Blindman. 
Yet, by your favour, I may step aside.  Death. 
Be not deceived, for 'tis in vain to hide:  
My forces are dispersed through all places;  
And act for me without respect of Faces:  
I have a Thousand ways to shorten Life,  
Besides a Rapier, Pistol, Sword, or Knife:  
A Fly, a Hair, a splinter of a Thorn,  
A little Scratch, the cutting of a Corn,  
Have sometimes done my business heretofore,  
So to the full, that I need wish no more.  
Should all these fail, enough of humours lurk  
Within your Body, Sir, to do my work.  Blindman. 
Well then, let some one run to my Physician,  
Tell him I want his aid in this Condition.  Death. 
Run, Boy, and fetch him; call th' whole College, do:  
For I intent to have them shortly too.  
I value not their Portions and their Pills,  
Nor all the Cordials in the Doctor's Bills:  
When my time's come, let them do what they can,  
I'll have my due, so vain a thing is man.  
Should Galen and Hypocrates both join,  
And Paracelsus too, with them Combine,  
Let them all meet to Countermand my strength  
Yet shall they be my Prisoners at length.  
I grant that Men of Learning, Worth and Art,  
May have the better of me at the Start;  
But in long Running they'll give out and tire,  
And quit the field, and leave me my des●●●  
As for those Quacks, that threaten to 〈◊〉 me,  
They are my Friends; and speed some Patients to me.  Blindman. 
Well, If I must, I'll yield to you the day  
'tis so Enacted, and I must Obey:  
Henceforth I count myself among you 〈…〉 rs,  
For 'tis, I see, the measure of my Bet 〈…〉  
But tell me now, when did your Power 〈…〉 ce?  Death. 
My Power began from Adam's first Offence.  Blindman. 
From Adam's first Offence! O base beginning!  
Whose very first Original was Sinning.  Death. 
My Rising did from Adam's Fail begin;  
And ever since, my strength and sting's 〈◊〉 Sin.  Blindman. 
To know wherein the Enemy's strength doth lie,  
In my Conceit is half a Victory:  
Have you Commission now for what you do?  Death. 
I have Commission: what's all this to you●  Blindman. 
Yes very much; for now I understand  
I am not totally at your command:  
My Life's at his who gave you this Commission;  
To him I'll therefore make with my Petition:  
I'll Seek his Love, and on his Mercy trust;  
And when my Sins are pardoned, do your worst.  Death. 
That you may know how far my Power exterds  
I will divorce you from your dearest Friends  
You shall resign your Jewels, Money, Plate:  
Your Earthly Joys shall all be out of date.  
I will deprive you of your dainty fare;  
I'll strip you to the skin, naked and bare.  
Linen or woollen you shall have to wind y 〈…〉  
As for the rest, all must be left behind y 〈…〉  
Bound hand and foot, I'll bring you to my D●●●,  
Where constant dreadful Darkness reigns, and then  
Your only Dwellinghouse shall be a Cave;  
Your Lodging-Room, a little narrow Grave;  
A Chest, your Closet; and a Sheet, your Dress;  
And your Companions, Worms and Rottenness.  Blindman. 
If this be all the mischief you can do,  
Your Harbingers deserve more dread than you.  
Diseases are your Harbingers, I'm sure;  
Many of which, 'tis grievous to endure;  
But when once dead, I shall not then Complain  
Of Cold, or Hunger, Poverty or Pain.  Death. 
There's one thing more, which here to mind I call,  
When once I come, then come I once for all:  
And when my stroke doth Soul and Body sever,  
What's left undone, must be undone for ever!  Blindman. 
That's a great Truth, and I have learned to know  
That there's no working in the Grave below.  
To be before hand therefore I will try,  
That then I may have nought to do but die.  
But tell me, Sir, do all men die alike?  Death. 
To me they do; for whom God bids, I strike;  
Look how the Foolish dye, so die the Wise;  
As do the Righteous, so the Sinner dies.  
There's afterwards a difference, though, 'tis true;  
But that's a thing with which I've nought to do.  
That I to some prove better, to some worse;  
To some a Blessing, and to some a Curse;  
That's none of mine; I may not undertake it;  
'Tis God's appointment, and men's works, that make it.  
Hence 'tis that Sinners Troubles never cease,  
And that the End of th' Upright Man is peace.  Blindman. 
There now remains but only one thing more;  
Will not thy power be one day out of door?  Death. 
Yes, I must needs confess 'tis very true;  
There is a Death for Me, as well as You;  
And mine's the worst, for I must die for ever;  
You may revive again, but I shall never.  Blindman. 
By all that hath been said, I now do see,  
You needed not have been so rough with me.  Death. 
Come, let that pass— The kinder to appear,  
I will reveal a secret in your Ear.  
The Death of Christ upon the painful Cross,  
Which seemed to be my Gain, turned to my Loss.  
As in his Hair, the strength of Samson lay,  
And with his Hair, went Sampson's strength away.  
So I've no strength, but what I had from Sin;  
Nor have I Sting, but what lies hid therein:  
Christ Suffering Death, to put this sting away,  
Hath made me his, whom I supposed my Prey.  
My Strength is now decayed, my Sting rebated:  
My Boldness Checked, and my Dominion mated;  
And I am now both faint and feeble grown,  
Much like poor Samson, when his streagth was gone:  
In my own Craft I was Completely routed,  
My Jaws are broken, and my Holder's outed.  
What now I catch, I have no power to keep;  
My very Name is changed, from Death to Sleep:  
I seized on Christ indeed, that I did do;  
Nay more, I bound him in my Prison too;  
But all my strongest Doors, Bars, Bolts, and Bands,  
Were but mere Nothing in his mighty Hands:  
He broke them all, and left my doors wide open,  
And all his Servants Prisoners of Hope:  
For though they die, yet with devout Affection,  
They do expect a joyful Resurrection;  
And with their Master to be brought again,  
That they with him for ever may Remain.  
Thus Christ by dying, did become Victorious:  
And from his Bed of Darkness rose more glorious:  
And I by Binding Him, made myself fast;  
And His, I know will prove my Death at last.  Blindman. 
These words give Comfort and Instruction too;  
Henceforth I shall be better pleased with you.  
Decreed it is for all men once to die;  
After that Judgement, than Eternity.  
To Prayer therefore will I join Endeavour,  
So to live here, that I may live for Ever.  
And seeing they that have, and keep Christ's words:  
Whether they live or die, be all the Lords;  
Repentance, Faith, and New Obedience shall  
Fit and prepare me for my Funeral.  
From whence I trust, my Saviour will translate me,  
In Season due, beyond their reach that hate me;  
Even to that place of Life and Glory too,  
Where neither Death, nor Sin, hath aught to do  
This hope in me, that Word of his doth cherish,  
He that believes in Me, shall never perish.  
Now welcome Death, upon my Saviour's Score!  
Who would not die, to live for Evermore?  Death. 
Sir, I perceive you speak not without Reason:  
I'll leave you now, and call some other Season.  Blindman. 
Call when you please, I will await that Call;  
And while I stand make ready for my Fall!  
In the mean time, my constant Prayer shall be,  
From Sudden and from Endless Death, Good Lord deliver me.  

The Conclusion.  
Judge not of Death by Sense, lest you mistake it;  
Death's neither Friend nor Foe, but as you make it.  
Live as you should, you need not then Complain;  
For where to Live, is Christ; to Dye, is Gain.   
FINIS.   

LICENCED, According to Order.  
LONDON: Printed by George Larkin, at the Coach and Horses without Bishopsgate, a little beyond Old Bedlam. 1686.