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He that on his pillow lies,
Fear-embalmed before he dies
Carries, like a sheep, his life,
To meet the sacrificer's knife,
And for eternity is prest,
Sad bell-wether to the rest.

— James Shirley

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Death

More quotes by James Shirley

Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.

Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

Scepter and crown
Must tumble down,
And, in the dust, be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

The honour is overpaid,
When he that did the act is commentator.

The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: James Shirley (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.