And sorrow with her full-mouth’d blast
Salutes our painful birth
To put out all our joys, and puff out all our mirth.
Nor infant innocence, nor childish tears,
Nor youthful wit, nor manly pow’r,
Nor politic old age,
Nor virgins pleading, nor the widows pray’rs,
Nor lowly cell, nor lofty tow’r,
Nor prince, nor peer, nor page,
Can ’scape this common blast, nor curb her stormy rage.