|John Bartlett (18201905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.|
|AUTHOR:||John Dryden (16311700)|
|QUOTATION:||Of no distemper, of no blast he died,|
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowd long,
Even wonderd at, because he droppd no sooner.
Fate seemd to wind him up for fourscore years,
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more;
Till like a clock worn out with eating time,
The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
|ATTRIBUTION:||dipus. Act iv. Sc. 1.|