Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.