My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.

I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.

Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.