I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.
My pride fell with my fortunes.
The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!
Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.
Make use of time, let not advantage slip.