DEATH's Universal Summons: Or, a general Call; to all Mankind, to the Grave: In a Dialogue betwixt a presumptuous Sinner, and the great Messenger of Mortality; With the righteous Man's cheerful Entertainment of Death.  
To which is Added, ●he dismal Doom and State of the Rich and Covetous Man after his Death: to be seriously Considered by all Christians.   depiction of Death in the guise of a skeleton with an arrow confronting a man 
Sold at the Hope and Anchor in Patrick street: Dublin.   

DEATH's Universal Summons, etc.  SINNER. 
WHat Soul amazing Message do I hear!  
What dreadful Tidings soundeth in min● Ear  
Strange is the Message! and as strangely told!  
And must the Messenger not be controlled?  
It was but now, that Men of great Repute,  
With Princely presents, did make humble suit  
To gain my favour, hoping to espy  
A Copy of an Answer in mine Eye.  
And now, must such a breathless Ghost as this,  
(In whom no Beauty, Form, or Splendour is)  
Make me to bear the burden of his Yoke?  
And make me tremble with his threatened stroke?  
What Melancholy humour hath possessed  
The Closet of my brave Heroic Breast?  
Where's that undaunted Mind I'd want to have,  
That now am frighted with this Meager slave:  
Shall I be daunted with one simple word,  
That never us d to fear a naked Sword:  
I that have made Men tremble at my breath,  
Shall I be daunted at the Name of Death:  
I that have boldly ventured to deny!  
To yield subjection to a Deity.  
Must I at Death's imperious Summons yield,  
And not so much as dare to stand the Field:  
Why Rests thou me, pale Death? I do command  
Thee, on my high displeasure, stay thy Hand.  DEATH. 
●'M come to tell thee, thou shalt surely Dye!  
Presumest thou to ask a Reason why:  
●et this suffice, I'm sent to strike the stroke,  
●nd neither must, nor can, nor will revoke:  
Tho' thou hast made Men tremble at thy word,  
And scorned the terror of the Conquering Sword;  
●Tis no true Valour, but presumptuous breath,  
To think great swelling words can conquer Death.  
Thy stubborn Heart, that hast refused to know  
The word of God, shall feel his power now.  
Vain bubble Earth, presumptuous piece of Clay,  
Yield up thy breath thou must this present Day.  SINNER. 
THat once I must submit to Death is true,  
For Death will me, and all the world subdue:  
But, why doth Death his Message tell so soon:  
Why must my Morning-sun go down at Noon:  
I'm like a full blown flower, in my prime:  
My great Concerns call for a longer time:  
If such as I (by Death) be snatched away,  
The World of necessity must decay:  
When Pillars fall, that do up-hold the Rafter,  
Undoubtedly, the House will follow after.  
Man in his strength of Age cannot be spared,  
He's like the Helm, by which the Ship is steered.  
How many may be better spared than I,  
To whom thou ought to let thine Arrows fly:  
He that by reason of Decrepit Age,  
Sees Death approaching like a nimble Page,  
With his Attendance (sorrow, pain, and grief,)  
Will humbly sue to Death, to find Relief:  
Or he that is oppressed with poverty,  
Enclosed in Prison-walls perpetually:  
How willingly would these poor Souls embrace  
Death in their Arms: but mine's another Case:  
The smiling World, with sense-delighting Charms,  
Keeps me inlcosed in her folded Arms.  
I feel no sorrow, am not pinched with grief,  
I make no suit to Death to find relief.  
Dread King of Terrors, grant me this request,  
Stay yet a while before thou me Arrest.  DEATH. 
IF neither Youth, nor Infant Innocence,  
Nor Piety, nor Pride, nor Insolence,  
Nor Wealth, nor Wisdom, never could obtain  
One Days Reprieve from Death, then 'tis in vain  
for thee to think my Action to remove,  
Thy Death's decreed, 'tis signed and sealed above:  
I take no Bail, but must have present pay:  
My Warrant will admit of no delay.  SINNER. 
Why dost thou bring false Tidings to my Ears  
Had not King Hezekiah fifteen Years  
Added unto his Life, at his request,  
Why may not I with him, be also blest:  
Why may not I with him, find so much Grace,  
At my request, to gain a longer space:  
I'll use the means, in hope to find success,  
As Hezekiah did, I'll do no less:  
Rather than I by Death will be controlled,  
I'll drink down Pearls and bath in Liquid Gold,  
I've good Physicians, to whose skill I'll trust:  
I'll make my Treasures fly like Summers-dust.  DEATH. 
'TIs true, indeed, thou hast an Instance given,  
That once a Man prevailed for Life with Heaven;  
The like to which, was never seen before:  
Nor can we say, it ever will do more:  
Moses obtained it not, tho' he desired,  
But in the Wilderness his days expired.  
This one Example is no rule for thee,  
Although thou wert as good a Man as he.  
He that prevailed for Life, obtained a sign,  
By which he knew the Promise was Divine,  
A Miracle of wonder! God doth force  
Don Phoebus' fiery Steeds to change their Course:  
Changing their constant motion, makes the Sun  
Go back fifteen Degrees that he had run:  
Which signs, instances, serves to let thee know,  
What God by his Almighty power can do.  
Gives not the smallest Reason, to believe  
Thou shalt the same great benefit receive.  
Be not deluded with vain Thoughts, for I  
Come to proclaim thy Death immediately,  
Tho' thou couldst bathe in Liquid Gold, and hast  
Whole Mines of Treasures on thy Lusts to waste:  
Thy sense-deluded Doctors have no power,  
To lengthen out thy Thread of Life an Hour.  SINNER. 
HOw unexpectedly am I surprised,  
Before I have about my Soul advised:  
●eath, like a Fowler, hath me now ensnared:  
●nd die I must, before I be prepared:  
〈◊〉 give me space, I may amend my ways:  
●ut me not off just in my Noon of days.  DEATH. 
O Foolish Man! the time that God hath given  
Th'st lavished out, and never thought of Heaven  
●or yet of Hell, that place of punishment:  
●or of thy sins: nor ever wouldst Repent,  
Till now, that thou art at the point of Death,  
And art a gasping for thy latest breath:  
But now it is too late, thou gasps and dies:  
The Trees cut down and falls, and so it lies,  
Until that Soul-amazing Trumpet make  
The Earth to tremble, and her dust to ' wake:  
And then shall every Soul of Man appear  
Before the Judge of Heaven and Earth, and there  
To Righteous Judgement God will have regard,  
And give to every one a just reward:  
The Just of everlasting Comfort shall not miss:  
As for the Wicked, this their sentence is:  
Depart ye Cursed, that did hate the Light,  
Go enter now into Eternal Night!  
Depart you Workers of Iniquity!  
Go Live forever, yet forever Die!  
I know you not! you have in sin delighted!  
Your Souls shall now forever be be-nighted  SINNER. 
O That the Minutes I have yet to spend,  
Were numberless! O that they had no End!  
But Death's approaching, that unwelcome slave!  
Tells me, no longer time I here must have!  
My Course is finished: Ah! but void of Faith!  
Wherefore, most dreadful is the thoughts of Death.  
Farewell, my pleasures! Now gins my woe!  
Farewell, farewel the means of Grace also!  
Farewell good Counsel, Counsel I have rejected!  
And, Farewell evil Counsel I affected!  
Farewell my Lusts, that have of Hopes bereft me!  
've brought me to my Grave, and there 've lef● m●  

Lo! thus the Wicked in a snare is caught:  
Their burning Taper with a sting goes out:  
He leaves all Joy and Comfort when he dies:  
But with the Righteous, it is otherwise:  
The Righteous in this world is like a stranger,  
Floating as it 'twere, upon a Sea of danger,  
Death's but a present gale to waft them o'er,  
And brings him safe to his desired shore:  
Where he is free from fears of future harms,  
From Rocks and Sands, from Pirates, and from storms.    

A Righteous Man's Entertainment of Death.  

FEw were my Days, and short hath been my Race,  
Now in my Arms I freely Death Embrace:  
Through Death, as through a Prospect, I behold  
A Crown that's far more Excellent than Gold.  
Farewell you Rocks and Sands! farewell you Storms!  
Farewell Tempestuous Seas! for, in my Arms,  
My Friend I do Embrace, that will relieve me:  
The World's temptations now no more will grieve me  
My Soul is free from grief, my Eyes from tears:  
My Hand from sinning, and my Heart from fears  
Of falling short of Heaven, that promised rest,  
With which all true Believers shall be blest.  
I leave a World of sorrow, grief and pain,  
In full Assurance to Arise again:  
I turn my back upon a Night of sorrow,  
And shall awake to a joyful Morrow:  
A Morning beautified with splendour bright,  
Whose glorious Noon shall never see a Night:  
Tho' Death do now my fleshly part surprise,  
Stopping my Breath, and closing up mine Eyes:  
When Death shall both his stroke and Message cease,  
Then shall my Soul enjoy Eternal Peace:  
Yea, now their pointed shafts have lost their sting,  
Although on Earth thou Reignest as a King:  
●n Heaven, Death must lay aside his Dart:  
●Tis but on Earth, that it must act its part:  
Then welcome Death, thine Arrows cannot harm me:  
Nor shall thy threatened stroke, of hope, dis-arm me.    

The dismal Doom and State of the Rich and Covetous Man after his Death.  

WHen once his Dissolution-Hour is come,  
Out go●s the Soul to hear her Final Doom.  
Th' Rich Man's black Ghost (all Horror and Dispair)  
Is from its Prison snatched to th' dismal Bar.  
Behind him the impatient Devils roar,  
His Sins (those worst of Devils) stand before.  
With terrors thus besieged in every place,  
He hears a Voice, but might not see the Face.  
" Go thou accursed, Vile Caitiff, hence away  
" To damned Ghosts. Come Devils, take your Prey  
Struck with this Thunder, down he sunk he fell,  
And was a triumph to the Fiends of Hell.  
Th' ingenious Tyrants did a Council pack,  
Their Malice set their Wits upon the Wrack.  
When they had jointly studied to torment,  
For their pale Prisoner then in haste they sent,  
They chain d and staked him to a furious Flame,  
Where constant streams of Brimstone feed the same.  
Behold Sins Martyr and Hell's Sacrifice!  
He Yells and Howls and vents unpityed Cries,  
He finds no friendly Ear or tender Eye,  
He feels a thousand Deaths but cannot die.  
Like burning Brass he's fired in every part,  
A Vulture lives upon his Living Heart.  
God's gone, he's gone. And what an Hell is this  
To be deprived of everlasting Bliss!  
O this Eternal Banishment is worse  
Than all the Remnant of the Dooms Day Curse.   O Consider this, you that forget God lest he tea you in pieces, and there be none to deliver yo● Psal. 50.22. 
FINIS.