Epitaph for Everyman

When Tellus out of Chaos sped
The Fates agreed in mirth.
The glorious and inglorious dead
Should be as one in earth.
The hero on his prancing bay.
The sweeper with his barrow.
[unclear: Have] common mercy-seat in clay
With nightingale and sparrow.
The [unclear: Hit] lord rates a [unclear: eoronct.]
The self a battered [unclear: straw;]
But once within death's [unclear: sttelmtsh] net
Both rate the grisly jaw.
The [unclear: lavtr twangs his htartst rings] fond.
It is lady smiles her approbation.
But drowned in time's relentless pond
No more they make their sweet libation.
Oh Everyman, how few your years!
How transient your joy and sorrow.
Your titles, honours, and your fears
[unclear: Dissulte] in death's eternal morrow.