I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
Where is your ancient courage? You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.
Truth hath a quiet breast.
Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
Alas, how love can trifle with itself!