Else why these fearful signs of coming wrath
That press us downward like a hateful yoke!
Our schemes of life are but a passing breath;
Our hardest labour ends in quick decay;
The good of others hastens but our death.
One of the People.
Enough; since Heaven hath now decreed this day
Our bitter end, its misery profound,
Why need we more for pity's sake to pray?
Another.