Thomas Nashe (1567-1601 / England)

1 Adieu, farewell earth's bliss,
2 This world uncertain is;
3 Fond are life's lustful joys,
4 Death proves them all but toys,
5 None from his darts can fly:
6 I am sick, I must die.
7 Lord, have mercy on us!

8 Rich men, trust not in wealth,
9 Gold cannot buy you health;
10 Physic himself must fade;
11 All things to end are made;
12 The plague full swift goes by:
13 I am sick, I must die.
14 Lord, have mercy on us!

15 Beauty is but a flower
16 Which wrinkles will devour;
17 Brightness falls from the air,
18 Queens have died young and fair,
19 Dust hath clos'd Helen's eye:
20 I am sick, I must die.
21 Lord, have mercy on us!

22 Strength stoops unto the grave,
23 Worms feed on Hector brave,
24 Swords may not fight with fate,
25 Earth still holds ope her gate;
26 Come, come, the bells do cry.
27 I am sick, I must die.
28 Lord, have mercy on us!

29 Wit with his wantonness
30 Tasteth death's bitterness:
31 Hell's executioner
32 Hath no ears for to hear
33 What vain art can reply:
34 I am sick, I must die.
35 Lord, have mercy on us!

36 Haste, therefore, each degree
37 To welcome destiny:
38 Heaven is our heritage,
39 Earth but a player's stage:
40 Mount we unto the sky.
41 I am sick, I must die.
42 Lord, have mercy on us!