The old folk, time's doting chronicles.

With this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature.

Let him smell his way to Dover!

Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.

At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies.

I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.