As I was in one of my unquiet and pensive moods, somebody called after me, and plucked me by the cloak, which proved to be a person of a venerable age; his clothes miserably poor and tattered; and his face, just as if he had been trampled upon in the streets, which did not yet hinder but that he had still the air and appearance of one that deserved much honour and respect. “Good father,” said I to him, “why should you envy me my enjoyments? Pray’e let me alone, and do not trouble yourself with me or my doings. You’re past the pleasure of life yourself, and can’t endure to see other people merry, that have the world before them. Consider of it; you are now upon the point of leaving the world, and I am but newly come into’t, but ’tis the trick of all old men to be carping at the actions of their juniors.” “Son,” said the old man, smiling, “I shall neither hinder nor envy thy delights, but in pure pity I would fain reclaim thee. Dost thou know the price of a day an hour or a minute? Didst ever examine the value of time? If thou hadst, thou wouldst employ it better; and not cast away so many blessed opportunities upon trifles; and so easily, and insensibly, part with so inestimable a treasure. What’s become of thy past hours? have they made thee a promise to come back again at a call, when thou hast need of them? Or, canst thou show me which way they went? No, no; they are gone without recovery; and in their flight, methinks, Time seems to turn his head, and laugh over his shoulder in derision of those that made no better use of him, when they had him. Dost thou not know that all the minutes of our life are but as so many links of a chain that has death at the end on’t? and every moment brings thee nearer thy expected end, which perchance, while the word is speaking, may be at thy very door; and doubtless at thy rate of living, it will be upon thee before thou art aware. How stupid is he that dies while he lives, for fear of dying! How wicked is he that lives, as if he should never die; and only fears death when he comes to feel it! which is too late for comfort, either to body or soul: and he is certainly none of the wisest that spends all his days in lewdness and debauchery, without considering that of his whole life any minute might have been his last.”