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

I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.

Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.

Take all the swift advantage of the hours.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.