And Barzillai said unto the king, How long have I to live, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem?
Ver. 34. How long have I to live?] q.d., My breath is corrupt - or, my spirits are spent - my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me, as Job 17:1. Pedetentim morior, as that old poet Alexis said, I die piecemeal, sensim sine sensu, every day yielding somewhat to death. It is therefore high time for old people to make up their litte bundles, and prepare to begone hence, as Sturmius wrote to Zanchy.