69. On Himself
A wearied pilgrim I have wander’d here,Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;Long I have lasted in this world; ’tis trueBut yet those years that I have lived, but few.Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:One man has reach’d his sixty years, but heOf all those three-score has not lived half three:He lives who lives to virtue; men who castTheir ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.