Ask him who shook Rome’s destinies—
Shatter’d her state!
There’s not a dungeon wretch that dies,
But is as great.
What’s the world’s pride! What it hath been—
A thing that’s groveling and unclean—
A spur to lust—a cloak of sin—
Seemingly fair;
Yet when the damp grave locks us in,
How mean we are.