A Fusty Nut With No Kernel.

Had I But Served My God With Half The Zeal I Served My King, He Would Not In Mine Age Have Left Me Naked To Mine Enemies.

Sweets With Sweets War Not, Joy Delights In Joy.

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things, Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love.

Alas, Poor Yorick! I Knew Him, Horatio: A Fellow Of Infinite Jest, Of Most Excellent Fancy: He Hath Borne Me On His Back A Thousand Times; And Now, How Abhorred In My Imagination It Is! My Gorge Rims At It. Here Hung Those Lips That I Have Kissed I Know Not How Oft. Where Be Your Gibes Now? Your Gambols? Your Songs? Your Flashes Of Merriment, That Were Wont To Set The Table On A Roar? Not One Now, To Mock Your Own Grinning? Quite Chap-fallen?

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.