But  Lord Crist! whan that it remembreth me Upon my yowthe  and on my jolitee  It tickleth me aboute myn herte roote. Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote That I have had my world as in my tyme. But age  alias! that al wole envenyme  Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith. Lat go  farewel! the devel go therwith! The flour is goon  ther is namoore to telle  The bren  as I best kan  now most I selle.
Geoffrey Chaucer
aging, old, age