Death eats up all things, both the young lamb and old sheep; and I have heard our parson say, death values a prince no more than a clown; alls fish that comes to his net; he throws at all, and sweeps stakes; hes no mower that takes a nap at noon-day, but drives on, fair weather or foul, and cuts down the green grass as well as the ripe corn: hes neither squeamish nor queesy-stomachd, for he swallows without chewing, and crams down all things into his ungracious maw; and tho you can see no belly he has, he has a confounded dropsy, and thirsts after mens lives, which he guggles down like mothers milk.
