Seeing this aged person, Siddhārtha inquired of his charioteer:—‘What human form is this, so miserable and so distressing, the like of which I have never seen before?’ The charioteer replied:—‘This is what is called an old man.’ The prince again inquired:—‘And what is the exact meaning of this expression “old”?’ The charioteer answered:—‘Old age implies the loss of bodily power, decay of the vital functions, and failure of mind and memory. This poor man before you is old and approaching his end.’ Then asked the prince:—‘Is this law universal?’ ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘this is the common lot of all living creatures. All that is born must die.’ Soon afterwards another strange sight presented itself—a sick man, worn by disease and suffering, pale and miserable, scarcely able to draw his breath, was seen tottering on the road. Then the prince inquired of his charioteer:—‘Who is this unhappy being?’ The charioteer replied:—‘This is a sick man, and such sickness is common to all.’ Soon afterwards there passed before them a corpse, borne on a bier. Then asked the prince:—‘Who is this borne onwards on his bed, covered with strangely-coloured garments, surrounded by people weeping and lamenting?’ ‘This,’ replied the charioteer, ‘is called a dead body; he has ended his life; he has no further beauty of form, and no desires of any kind; he is one with the stones and the felled tree; he is like a ruined wall, or fallen leaf; no more shall he see his father or mother, brother or sister, or other relatives; his body is dead, and your body also must come to this.’ Next day on his going out by a different gate there appeared advancing with measured steps a man with a shaven crown, and monk’s robe—his right shoulder bare, a religious staff in his right hand, and a mendicant’s alms-bowl in his left. ‘Who is this,’ the prince inquired, ‘proceeding with slow and dignified steps, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, absorbed in thought, with shaven head and garments of reddish colour?’ ‘This man,’ said the charioteer, ‘devotes himself to charity, and restrains his appetites and his bodily desires. He hurts nobody, but does good to all, and is full of sympathy for all.’ Then the prince asked the man himself to give an account of his own condition. He answered:—‘I am called a homeless ascetic; I have forsaken the world, relatives, and friends; I seek deliverance for myself and desire the salvation of all creatures, and I do harm to none.’ After hearing these words, the prince went to his father and said, ‘I wish to become a wandering ascetic (parivrājika) and to seek Nirvāna; all worldly things, O king! are changeable and transitory.’