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

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.

Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!

This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away; go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye

Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.