The old man looked him in the face straightway, And answer’d thus: “Because I cannot find A man--e’en though I walk’d as far as Inde-- Neither in any city, nor villàge, Willing to change his youth for mine old age; And therefore must I have my old age still As long a time as it is heaven’s will. Nor will e’en Death receive my life, alas! Thus like a restless wayfarer I pass, And on the ground, which is my mother’s gate, Keep knocking with my staff early and late, And say to her--‘Dear mother, let me in. Lo, how I vanish, flesh and blood and skin-- Alas, when shall my bones remain at rest? Mother, I want to change with you my chest, Which in my room so long a time hath been, Yea, for a cloth of hair to wrap me in!’ But yet to me she will not do that grace, Wherefore so pale and wrinkled is my face. “But, sirs, in you it is no courtesy To speak to an old man disdainfully, Unless he shall offend in word or deed. In Holy Writ ye may your own selves read, Before an aged man whose hair is grey Ye should rise up--and therefore I you pray Offer to an old man no mischief now More than you would that men did unto you In your old age, if you so long abide, And God be with you, whither you walk or ride! I must go on, whither I have to go.” “Nay, thou old churl, thou shalt not quit us so.” Cried out the other rioter anon, “Thou partest not so lightly, by St. John! Thou hast just spoken of that traitor Death Who all our friends through all the country slay’th, So now I warrant thee, thou art his spy; Tell where he is, this Death, or thou shall die. “You needn’t deny that you know of his whereabouts--for you are in his plot to get rid of us young folks, you wretched old thief!” Now, sires, than if that yow be so leef To fynde Deth, torn up this croked way, For in that grove I laft him,[184] by my fay, Under a tree, and ther he wil abyde. remain Ne for your bost he nyl him no thing hyde. boast Se ye that ook? right ther ye schuln him fynde. God save yow, that bought agein mankynde, again And yow amend. Thus sayth this olde man,