Chapter 1426 of 1964 · 59 words · ~1 min read

LXXXII.

Talk not of seventy years as age; in seven I have seen more changes, down from monarchs to The humblest individuals under Heaven, Than might suffice a moderate century through. I knew that nought was lasting, but now even Change grows too changeable, without being new: Nought's permanent among the human race, Except the Whigs _not_ getting into place.