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Poem by Thomas Urquhart


Epigrams. The First Booke. № 21. To one bewailing the death of another


You have no cause to thinke it strange, that he 
		Hath yeelded up his last, and fatall breath; 
For ’tis no wonder for a man to dye, 
	Whose life is but a journey into Death: 
Nor is there any man of life deprived 
For age, or sicknesse: but because he lived.



Thomas Urquhart


Thomas Urquhart's other poems:
  1. Epigrams. The Third Booke. № 1. How to behave ones selfe in all occasions
  2. Epigrams. The Second Booke. № 31. As it was a precept of antiquity, to leane more to vertue, then parentage: so is it a tenet of christianity, to repose more trust on the blood of christ, then our owne merits
  3. Epigrams. The Second Booke. № 18. That we ought not to be sorie at the losse of worldly goods
  4. Epigrams. The First Booke. № 25. Vertue, and goodnesse are very much opposed by the selfe-conceit, that many men have of their owne sufficiencie
  5. Epigrams. The First Booke. № 38. How Fortune oftentimes most praeposterously pond'ring the aections of men, with a great deale of injustice bestoweth her favours


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