CATO. What you urge, Scipio, from right reason flows: All parts of age seem burthensome to those Who virtue's and true wisdom's happiness Cannot discern; but they who those possess, 10 In what's impos'd by Nature find no grief, Of which our age is (next our death) the chief, Which though all equally desire t'obtain, Yet when they have obtain'd it, they complain; Such our inconstancies and follies are, We say it steals upon us unaware: Our want of reas'ning these false measures makes, Youth runs to age, as childhood youth o'ertakes. How much more grievous would our lives appear, To reach th'eighth hundred, than the eightieth year? 20 Of what in that long space of time hath pass'd, To foolish age will no remembrance last. My age's conduct when you seem t'admire (Which that it may deserve, I much desire), 'Tis my first rule, on Nature, as my guide Appointed by the gods, I have relied; And Nature (which all acts of life designs), Not, like ill poets, in the last declines: But some one part must be the last of all, Which like ripe fruits, must either rot or fall. 30 And this from Nature must be gently borne, Else her (as giants did the gods) we scorn. LÆLIUS. But, Sir, 'tis Scipio's and my desire, Since to long life we gladly would aspire, That from your grave instructions we might hear, How we, like you, may this great burthen bear. CAT. This I resolved before, but now shall do With great delight, since 'tis required by you. LÆL. If to yourself it will not tedious prove, Nothing in us a greater joy can move, 40 That as old travellers the young instruct, Your long, our short experience may conduct. CAT. 'Tis true (as the old proverb doth relate), Equals with equals often congregate. Two consuls[2] (who in years my equals were) When senators, lamenting I did hear That age from them had all their pleasures torn, 47 And them their former suppliants now scorn: They what is not to be accused accuse, Not others, but themselves their age abuse; Else this might me concern, and all my friends, Whose cheerful age with honour youth attends, Joy'd that from pleasure's slav'ry they are free, And all respects due to their age they see. In its true colours, this complaint appears The ill effect of manners, not of years; For on their life no grievous burthen lies, Who are well natured, temperate, and wise; But an inhuman and ill-temper'd mind, Not any easy part in life can find. 60 LÆL. This I believe; yet others may dispute, Their age (as yours) can never bear such fruit Of honour, wealth, and power to make them sweet; Not every one such happiness can meet.