“Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, A…
“Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, and poppy ‘or charms can make us sleep as well And better than they stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.”