The Bard’s Rewrite
A Golden Rest for Silvered Heads
Lo! In the western lands where Phoebus’ chariot sinks each eve ‘neath waves of gold, there lies a city most favored by Fortune’s hand—a place where aged sires and dames, their mortal toils behind them, do rest upon their well-feathered nests. This town, by coin and comfort crowned, hath been named the richest haven for those who bid farewell to labor’s yoke.
Not all who seek solace in their winter’s tide may claim a seat within this gilded keep, for its walls are built not of stone, but of wealth, and only those whose coffers swell may walk its pleasant streets. Here, the aged live not in want nor woe, but in ease and mirth, their days unburdened by the cares that once did weigh them down. The air is sweet, the sun doth smile, and all about them sings the melody of gentle rest.
The Price of Golden Dreams
Yet mark ye well, for such paradise is not freely won. As Shylock did once cry for his pound of flesh, so too doth this city demand its toll. The price of dwelling in such a place is steep, and those whose purses be light may find themselves as King Lear upon the stormy heath—cast out, with naught but the wind for company.
Wouldst thou seek to retire in ease beneath its fair and temperate skies? Then gird thyself, and in thy fruitful years, let thrift be thy companion. For only those whose labors have reaped a golden harvest may hope to claim a place in this most prosperous of sanctuaries.
A Mirthful End or an Empty Purse?
What fate awaits the weary traveler at the twilight of his days? Some shall find themselves as Prospero upon his enchanted isle, masters of their domain, waving their staff to conjure all delights. Others, alas, may see their hopes dashed like a ship upon the rocks, left to wander far from this shining city’s gates, with naught but memories of what might have been.
Thus, let each man and woman take heed: the years do fleet as swiftly as Puck upon a midsummer’s night. Waste them not, but store thy treasures wisely, that when the hour of rest is nigh, thou mayst recline in comfort, and not in sorrow.
