" Next door was
Death-by-Cold, and when I came opposite him I could hear much shuddering
and shivering, and at his door, were many books, pots and flagons, a few
sticks and bludgeons, compasses, cords and ship's tackle. "Scholars have
gone this way," said I. "Yea, lonely and helpless, far from the succour
of those who loved them, their very garments stolen from them. Those,"
he continued, pointing to the pots, "are relics of the boon companions,
whose feet were benumbed under the benches, while their heads were
seething in drink and noise; those things over there belonged to those
who journeyed amid snow-clad mountains, and to North Sea traders." The
next was a lanky skeleton called Fear-Death--so transparent you could see
he had no heart; at his door, too, there were bags and chests, bars and
strongholds. Through this one went userers and traitors, oppressors and
murderers, though many of these last called at the next door, at which
was a Death named Gallows, with a rope ready round his neck. Next to him
was Love-Death, and at his feet thousands of musical instruments and
song-books, love-letters, spots and pigments to beautify the face, and
hundreds of tinselled toys for the same purpose, together with a few
swords: "With these rivals have fought duels for their mistresses, and
some have killed themselves," said Sleep.
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