Don Ped. That all the care I took of myself should be thrown away—never exposing myself to the night air; never fatiguing myself beyond a gentle perspiration, so careful of my diet, so regular in my hours, so chaste in my amors [originally amours], and after all this, in the evening of my days to have a long spado run through my guts, and look like a blue-breech’d fly with a corking pin sticking in it!