Classic Poem

What is't, good, prying Friend, you say?
A Hair or two just turning Grey!
Quick, Boy! for the next Barber send;
This Sight my Cloi may offend;
I'll pass for Twenty five , no more,
Tho' I have seen seven Lustrums o'er.
Go, tap the oldest Cask of Wine ;
Invite those merry Blades to Dine;
Bid Arrigoni bring his Lute ;
And brush my best, embroyder'd Suit!
This mighty Hurry, Friend , forgive;
Tis Time , to be in haste , to Live!