"But now at thirty years my hair is gray–– (I wonder what it will be like at forty? I thought of a peruke the other day) My heart is not much greener; and, in short, I Have squander'd my whole summer while 'twas May, And feel no more the spirit to retort; I Have spent my life, both interest and principal, And deem not, what I deem'd, my soul invincible."