Jer. O fortunate hour! bless’d minute! happy day!
Able to ravish even my sense away!
Now I remember too—O sweet remembrance!—
This day my years strike fifty, and in Rome
They call the fifty year the year of jubilee,
The merry year, the peaceful year, [the] jocund year,
A year of joy, of pleasure and delight;
This shall be my year of jubilee, for ’tis my fifty.
Age ushers honour; ’tis no shame; confess:
Beard, thou art fifty full, not a hair less.