On the Increase of Human Life

Fate deals out human life by seven-year spaces: Time was you would be thought in her good graces With nine of these; when David lived ’twas ten; If more She gave, ’twas only now and then, A few cold years of winter, and the last, Tho’ charged with toil and sorrow, quickly past. But in our age more bounteous Fate appears, And often grants a dozen-fold seven years; Nay, be but still and temperate like the Quakers, Perhaps she’ll make your dozen up a baker’s.