%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Great Messenger of MORTALITY: / Or, A Dialogue betwixt DEATH and a LADY. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1660-1660 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 11/05/2018 35577

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1 NONE Death and the Lady FAIR Lady, lay your costly Robes aside, / No longer may you glory in your Pride: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. : The Great Messenger of MORTALITY: / Or, A Dialogue betwixt DEATH and a LADY. The Great Messenger of MORTALITY: Or, A Dialogue between DEATH and a LADY. 1660-1660

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction / health alcohol Americas animals / nature Bible / biblical figures buildings / architecture catastrophe children class clothing / appearance country / nation crime death economics / commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays / seasons infidelity labor / craft law London love maritime marriage military / war monstrosity mythology / Classical news nobility / court politics / government procreation punishment race / ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex / sexuality supernatural / magic travel trickery / deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth / age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 11/5/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America class death religious concepts supernatural / magic youth / age Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 11/5/2018 1:11:44 PM XBallad Stark, Nicole Created XML Version of Ballad 11/5/2018 1:11:44 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/5/2018 1:11:44 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Adkison, Katie Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/5/2018 1:11:44 PM Transcriptionist Two McMahon, Claire Transcription of ballad manuscript 11/5/2018 1:11:44 PM Transcriptionist One Torres Baker, Noa Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/13/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2016 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/6/2016 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2016 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/6/2016 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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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. Shall 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'll tell you then 'Tis 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 call'd 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, Jewels, Gold, and Garments brave, Your Houses, Lands, must all new Masters have.
Tho' thy vain heart to riches was inclin'd, Yet thou must die, and leave them all behind. LADY. My Heart is cold, I tremble at the News. Here's Bags of Gold, if thou wilt me excuse, And seize on those (thus finish thou the Strife) On such as are a weary of their Life, Are there not many bound in Prison strong, In bitter Grief of Soul have languish'd long, From all would find a Grave, a Place of Rest, From all their Grief, in which they are opprest. Besides, there's many with their hoary Head, And Palsy Joints, by which their Joys are fled, Release thou them whose Sorrows are so great. But spare my Life to have a longer Date. DEATH. Tho' they by Age are full of Grief and Pain, Yet their appointed Time they must remain. I come to none before my Warrant's seal'd, And when it is, they must submit and yeild. I take no Bribe, believe me, this is true, Prepare yourself to go, I come for you. LADY. Death, be not so severe, let me obtain A little longer Time to live and reign. Fain would I stay, if thou my Life wilt spare, I have a Daughter beautiful and fair, I'd live to see her wed, whom I adore. Grant me but this, and I will ask no more. DEATH. This is a slender frivolous Excuse. I have you fast, and will not let you loose. Leave her to Providence, for you must go Along with me, whether you will or no. I, Death, command Kings to leave their Crowns, And at my Feet they lay their Sceptres down. If unto Kings this Favour I not give, But cut them off, can you expect to live?
Beyond the limit of your Time and Space? No, I must send you to another Place. LADY. You learned Doctors, now express your Skill, And let not Death of me obtain his Will. Prepare your Cordials, let me Comfort find, My Gold shall fly like Chaff before the Wind. DEATH. Forbear to call their Skill will never do, They are but Mortals here, as well as you. I give the fatal Wound, my Dart is sure, 'Tis far beyond the Doctor's Skill to cure. How freely can you let your Riches fly. To purchase Death, rather than yield to die. But while you flourish'd here in all your Store, You would not give one Penny to the Poor, Tho' in God's Name they Suit to you did make, You would not spare one Penny for his Sake. My Lord beheld wherein you did amiss, And calls you hence to give Account for this. LADY. Oh, heavy News! must I no longer stay? How shall I stand in the great Judgment Day? Down from her Eyes the crystal Tears did flow. She said, None knows what I do undergo. Upon a Bed of Sorrow here I lie, My carnal Life makes me afraid to die. My Sins, alas! are many, gross, and foul. Lord Jesus Christ have Mercy on my Soul. And tho' I do deserve thy righteous Frown, Yet pardon, Lord, and pour a Blessing down: Then with a dying Sigh her Heart did break, And did the Pleasures of this World forsake. Thus may we see the High and Mighty fall For cruel Death shews no Respect at all, To any one of high or low Degree. Great Men submit to Death as well as we. Tho' they are gay, their Lives are but a Span, A Lump of Clay, so vile a Creature's Man.
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