“There is,” said Michael, “if thou well observe The rule of Not too much , by temperance taught In what thou eat’st and drink’st, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return. So may’st thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop Into thy mother’s lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature. This is old age; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered, weak, and grey; thy senses then, Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo 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, To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.” To whom our Ancestor: