A good old man, sir. He will be talking. As they say, when the age is in, the wit is out.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well

Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless; lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!