Answer:
My second is performed by my first, and it is thought a thief by the marks of my whole might be caught.
When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever.
What goes in the water red, and comes out black?
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?