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. Scepter and crown must tumble down, And, in the dust, be equal made With the… — James Shirley Copy Share Image
Hark, how chimes the passing bell! There's no music to a knell; All the other sounds we hear, Flatter, and but cheat our ear.… — James Shirley Copy Share Image
Only the actions of the just, Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. — James Shirley Copy Share Image
Victorious men of earth, no more Proclaim how wide your empires are; Though you bind in every shore And your triumphs reach as far… — James Shirley Copy Share Image
How little room Do we take up in death, that, living, know No bounds! — James Shirley Copy Share Image
“The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armor against Fate. Death lays his icy hand on… — James Shirley Copy Share Image
The glories of our blood and state, Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hand on… — James Shirley Copy Share Image
