If a man who turnip cries
Cry not when his father dies, ’tis a proof that he would rather have a turnip than a father.
“So many do not get to choose,” Death said, “I take them away swiftly like a thief in the night, before they ever realize it is me. I will take you the same way as I took your dear friend, Augustus… Do you not recall him or have you forgotten him so easily?”
“How dare you speak his name!” I felt my anger rising.
“Ah,” exclaimed Death, “I see you remember him… Have you forgotten that day?”
“I do not want to speak of it!” I shouted at him. “Leave me alone! I have nothing more to say to you. Leave, leave!”
“You do not summon me away,” Death said. “I came here for you, and you, I will take when your heart ceases beating. I came for you as I came for Augustus. Do not fight me.”
“I do not want to hear any more!” I covered my ears.
“You fool,” Death said. “Augustus, didn’t beg for his life as you do now.”
I turned away from Death and cried.
“No, no,” was all I could repeat. “He was my friend.”
“Ah, yes, poor Augustus,” Death said quietly.
“Did he feel anything?” I weakly asked.
“His death was swift,” Death replied.