As to the rest, I abominate that incidental repentance which old age brings along with it.  He, who said of old, that he was obliged to his age for having weaned him from pleasure, was of another opinion than I am; I can never think myself beholden to impotency for any good it can do to me: 

     “Nec tam aversa unquam videbitur ab opere suo providentia,
     ut debilitas inter optima inventa sit.”

     ["Nor can Providence ever seem so averse to her own work, that
     debility should be found to be amongst the best things.” 
     —­Quintilian, Instit.  Orat., v. 12.]

Our appetites are rare in old age; a profound satiety seizes us after the act; in this I see nothing of conscience; chagrin and weakness imprint in us a drowsy and rheumatic virtue.  We must not suffer ourselves to be so wholly carried away by natural alterations as to suffer our judgments to be imposed upon by them.  Youth and pleasure have not formerly so far prevailed with me, that I did not well enough discern the face of vice in pleasure; neither does the distaste that years have brought me, so far prevail with me now, that I cannot discern pleasure in vice.  Now that I am no more in my flourishing age, I judge as well of these things as if I were.

          ["Old though I am, for ladies’ love unfit,
          The power of beauty I remember yet.”—­Chaucer.]

I, who narrowly and strictly examine it, find my reason the very same it was in my most licentious age, except, perhaps, that ’tis weaker and more decayed by being grown older; and I find that the pleasure it refuses me upon the account of my bodily health, it would no more refuse now, in consideration of the health of my soul, than at any time heretofore.  I do not repute it the more valiant for not being able to combat; my temptations are so broken and mortified, that they are not worth its opposition; holding but out my hands, I repel them.  Should one present the old concupiscence before it, I fear it would have less power to resist it than heretofore; I do not discern that in itself it judges anything otherwise now than it formerly did, nor that it has acquired any new light:  wherefore, if there be convalescence, ’tis an enchanted one.  Miserable kind of remedy, to owe one’s health to one’s disease!  Tis not that our misfortune should perform this office, but the good fortune of our judgment.  I am not to be made to do anything by persecutions and afflictions, but to curse them:  that is, for people who cannot be roused but by a whip.  My reason is much more free in prosperity, and much more distracted, and put to’t to digest pains than pleasures:  I see best in a clear sky; health admonishes me more cheerfully, and to better purpose, than sickness.  I did all that in me lay to reform and regulate myself from pleasures, at a time when I had health and vigour to enjoy them; I should be ashamed and envious that the misery and misfortune of my old age should have credit over my good healthful, sprightly, and vigorous years, and that men should estimate me, not by what I have been, but by what I have ceased to be.