When, being angry, boldly he declares
Those things were acted under happy stars,
From which the commonwealth found good effects,
But otherwise they came from bad aspects. 
Many great things of Fabius I could tell,
But his son’s death did all the rest excel;
(His gallant son, though young, had Consul been)
His funeral oration I have seen
Often; and when on that I turn my eyes,
I all the old philosophers despise. 180
Though he in all the people’s eyes seem’d great,
Yet greater he appear’d in his retreat;
When feasting with his private friends at home,
Such counsel, such discourse from him did come,
Such science in his art of augury,
No Roman ever was more learn’d than he;
Knowledge of all things present and to come,
Rememb’ring all the wars of ancient Rome,
Nor only there, but all the world’s beside;
Dying in extreme age, I prophesied 190
That which is come to pass, and did discern
From his survivors I could nothing learn. 
This long discourse was but to let you see
That his long life could not uneasy be. 
Few like the Fabii or the Scipios are
Takers of cities, conquerors in war. 
Yet others to like happy age arrive,
Who modest, quiet, and with virtue live: 
Thus Plato writing his philosophy,
With honour after ninety years did die. 200
Th’ Athenian story writ at ninety-four
By Isocrates, who yet lived five years more;
His master Gorgias at the hundredth year
And seventh, not his studies did forbear: 
And, ask’d why he no sooner left the stage? 
Said he saw nothing to accuse old age. 
None but the foolish, who their lives abuse,
Age of their own mistakes and crimes accuse. 
All commonwealths (as by records is seen) 209
As by age preserved, by youth destroy’d have been. 
When the tragedian Naevius did demand,
Why did your commonwealth no longer stand? 
’Twas answer’d, that their senators were new,
Foolish, and young, and such as nothing knew;
Nature to youth hot rashness doth dispense,
But with cold prudence age doth recompense. 
But age, ’tis said, will memory decay,
So (if it be not exercised) it may;
Or, if by nature it be dull and slow. 
Themistocles (when aged) the names did know 220
Of all th’Athenians; and none grow so old,
Not to remember where they hid their gold. 
From age such art of memory we learn,
To forget nothing which is our concern;
Their interest no priest nor sorcerer
Forgets, nor lawyer, nor philosopher;
No understanding memory can want,
Where wisdom studious industry doth plant. 
Nor does it only in the active live,
But in the quiet and contemplative; 230
When Sophocles (who plays when aged wrote)
Was by his sons before the judges brought,