This is Old Age; but then, thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty; which will change 540 To withered, weak, and gray; thy senses then, Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forego, To what thou hast; and, for the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry 545 To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.