It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! *It’s sad. Love looks like a nice thing, but it’s actually very rough when you experience it.*

Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.

They are but beggars that can count their worth.

O, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

A good old man, sir. He will be talking. As they say, when the age is in, the wit is out.