Laudator Temporis Acti

Epistolæ Ho-elianæ: The Familiar Letters of James Howell, ed. Joseph Jacobs (London: David Nutt, 1890), pp. 645-646 (from Book IV, Letter L, to T. Harris):

The Times continue still untoward and troublesome; therefore now, that you and I carry above a hundred years upon our backs, and that those few grains of Sand which remain in the brittle glasses of our lives are still running out, it is time, my dear Tom, for us to think on that which of all future things is the most certain, I mean our last removal, and emigration hence to another World: 'Tis time to think on that little hole of earth which shall hold us at last. The time was, that you and I had all the fair Continent of Europe before us to range in; we have been since confin'd to an Island, and now Lincoln holds you, and London me: We must expect the day that sickness will confine us to our Chambers, then to our Beds, and so to our Graves, the dark silent Grave, which will put a period to our pilgrimage in this World.