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

Now I will believe that there are unicorns.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!

Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.