The ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds: Through which our merit leads us to our meeds. How willful blind is he then, that would stray, And hath it in his powers, to make his way! This world death's region is, the other life's: And here, it should be one of our first strifes, So to front death, as men might judge us past it. For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.

Thy praise or dispraise is to me alike; One doth not stroke me, nor the other strike.

Thus, in his belly, can he change a sin, Lust it comes out, that gluttony went in.

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy! My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay, Exacted by thy f…

Be of good cheer about death and know this as a truth - that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death.

Accordingly, death is a harbor of peace for the just, but is believed a shipwreck for the wicked.

Mas, sea verdad o sueno, obrar bien es lo que importa. Si fuere verdad, por serlo; si no, por ganar amigos para cuando despertemos.