For acting here life's tragic-comedy, The lookers-on will say we act not well, Unless the last the former scenes excel: But age is froward, uneasy, scrutinous, Hard to be pleased, and parsimonious; But all those errors from our manners rise, Not from our years; yet some morosities 670 We must expect, since jealousy belongs To age, of scorn, and tender sense of wrongs: Yet these are mollified, or not discern'd, Where civil arts and manners have been learn'd: So the Twins' humours,[2] in our Terence, are Unlike-this harsh and rude, that smooth and fair. Our nature here is not unlike our wine, 677 Some sorts, when old, continue brisk and fine; So age's gravity may seem severe, But nothing harsh or bitter ought t'appear. Of age's avarice I cannot see What colour, ground, or reason there should be: Is it not folly, when the way we ride Is short, for a long voyage to provide? To avarice some title youth may own, To reap in autumn what the spring had sown; And, with the providence of bees, or ants, Prevent with summer's plenty winter's wants. But age scarce sows till death stands by to reap, And to a stranger's hand transfers the heap; 690 Afraid to be so once, she's always poor, And to avoid a mischief makes it sure. Such madness, as for fear of death to die, Is to be poor for fear of poverty. [1] 'Tarentine': Archytas, much praised by Horace. [2] 'Twins' humours': in his comedy called 'Adelphi.' THE FOURTH PART.