Next to them came seven recorders, who, on being bidden to raise their
hands {55a} to the bar, pretended not to hear the command, for their
palms were so thickly greased. One of them, bolder than the rest, began
to argue, "We ought to have had fair citation, in order to prepare our
reply, instead of being attacked unawares." "Oh, we are not bound to
give you any particular notice," said Death, "because ye have,
everywhere, and everywhile throughout your lives, warning of my advent.
How many sermons on the mortality of man have ye heard? How many books,
how many graves, knells and fevers, how many messages and signs, have ye
seen? What is your Sleep but my brother? Your heads but my image? Your
daily food but dead creatures? Seek not to lay the blame of your ill hap
on my shoulders--ye would not hear of the summons, although ye had it an
hundred times." "Pray what have you against us?" asked one ruddy
recorder. "What indeed?" exclaimed Death, "the drinking the sweat and
blood of the poor, and the doubling your fees." "Here is an honest man,"
he said, pointing to a wrangler behind them, "who knows I never did aught
but what was fair, and it is not fair in you to detain us here, seeing
you have no specific charge to prove against us.
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