So maist thou live, till like ripe Fruit thou drop
Into thy Mothers lap, or be with ease
Gatherd, not harshly pluckt, for death mature:
This is old age.
Paradise Lost, Book 11 (1674 version)
Men must endure
Their going hence even as their coming hither.
Ripeness is all.
King Lear, 5.2.9–11 (Arden edition)
