It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.

Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

Good old grandsire ... we shall be joyful of thy company.

Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.

Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.