The King (Francis I.) sits at feast under a baldachin sprinkled with fleurs-de-lis. Death, as a cup-bearer, pours his last draught. Today he is king and tomorrow he will be in the grave, deprived of all his rank, because one cannot bring anything with them beyond the veil of death.
It is possible to provide security against other ills, but so far as death is concerned we men live in a city without walls. -- Epicurus