Lucian of Samosata Navigium 40

Besides, it is humiliating that sickness will come to you as to ordinary folk and fever will not set you apart as a king: Death has no fear of your bodyguard, but comes when he will and takes you moaning with no respect for your diadem. From what a height you will fall when, jerked from your royal throne, you depart by the same road as the common crowd, all equal as you are driven in the herd of the dead. Above ground you will leave behind a high mound and a lofty tombstone or a pyramid with inscribed corners, honours too late for you to see. Those statues and temples which cities erect to flatter you, and your great name, all will soon disappear unnoticed and be gone, neglected. But if all remains as long as may be, what enjoyment will now come to one who is beyond feeling? Do you see what further troubles you will have in life from fear, anxiety, and labour, and what will remain with you after you depart?

And surely it is a very humiliating circumstance that you should be apt to fall ill, just like ordinary people? Fevers seem not to understand that you are a king; nor does Death stand in any awe of your bodyguard; when the fancy takes him, he comes, and carries you off lamenting; what cares he for the diadem? Fallen from your high estate, dragged from your kingly throne, you go the same road as the rest of us; there is no ‘benefit of royalty? among the timid flock of shades. You leave behind you upon earth some massive tomb, some stately column, some pyramid of noble outline; but it will be too late then for vanity to enjoy these things; and the statues and temples, the offerings of obsequious cities, nay, your great name itself, all will presently decay, and vanish, and be of no further account. Take it at the best; let all endure for ages: what will it profit your senseless clay? And it is for this that you are to live uneasy days, ever scheming, fearing, toiling!—