Mrs. _Margery_, who had
the Art of moralizing and drawing Instructions from every Accident,
took this Opportunity of reading them a Lecture on the Uncertainty of
Life, and the Necessity of being always prepared for Death. You should
get up in the Morning, says she, and to conduct yourselves, as if that
Day was to be your last, and lie down at Night, as if you never
expected to see this World any more. This may be done, says she,
without abating of your Chearfulness, for you are not to consider
Death as an Evil, but as a Convenience, as an useful Pilot, who is to
convey you to a Place of greater Happiness: Therefore, play my dear
Children, and be merry; but be innocent and good. The good Man sets
Death at Defiance, for his Darts are only dreadful to the Wicked.
After this, she permitted the Children to bury the little Dormouse,
and desired one of them to write his Epitaph, and here it is.
_Epitaph on a_ DORMOUSE, _really
written by a little_ BOY.
I.
In Paper Case,
Hard by this Place,
Dead a poor Dormouse lies;
And soon or late,
Summon'd by Fate,
Each Prince, each Monarch dies.
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