What is thy land, thy name?
Art thou a lord? thy rank proclaim,
Else shaltst be put to shame.
Death. ’Twere well for thee my name to know;
Thy pride soon will I overthrow.
The people here they call me Death;
Of young or old I take no heed,
Alike they wither at my breath.
King. Of Death I oft have heard, indeed,
But cannot of thee now take heed.