Come heavy souls oppressed with the weight
Of crimes, and Pangs, or want of your delight,
   Come drown in Lethe's sleepy Lake,
      Whatever makes you ake.
      Drink healths from poyson'd bowles
Breath out your cares together with your souls.
         Cool Death's a salve
         That all may have
   There's no distinction in the grave;
Lay down your loads before deaths iron dore,
Sigh, and sigh out, groan once, and groan no more.