Movement VI. Saraband

Adieu, farewell earth's blisse,

This world uncertain is,

Fond are lifes lustfull joyes,

Death proves them all but toyes.

None from his darts can flye,

I am sick I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.

Rich men, trust not in wealth,

Gold cannot buy you health;

Physic himself must fade.

All things to end are made.

The plague full swift goes by;

I am sick, I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.

Beauty is but a flower,

Which wrinkles will devour,

Brightness falls from the air,

Queens have died young and fair,

Dust hath closed Helen's eye.

I am sick, I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.

Strength stoops unto the grave,

Worms feed on Hector brave

Swords may not fight with fate

Earth still holds ope her gate;

Come, come! the bells do cry;

I am sick, I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.

Wit with his wantonness

Tasteth death's bitterness

Hell's executioner

Hath no ears for to hear

What vain art can reply;

I am sick, I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.

Haste therefore each degree,

To welcome destiny:

Heav'n is our heritage,

Earth but a player's stage,

Mount we unto the sky.

I am sick, I must die--

Lord have mercy on us.