In short whoever you may be, To this conclusion you'll agree, When everyone is somebodee, Then no one's anybody!

Music do I hear?Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,When time is broke and no proportion kept!So is it in the music of men's lives.

Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

No longer mourn for me when I am deadThan you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fledFrom this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell.

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

When beggars die there are no comets seen;The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.