Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie,

That Which Is Now A Horse, Even With A Thought The Rack Dislimms, And Makes It Indistinct As Water Is In Water

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?

No Particular Scandal One Can Touch But It Confounds The Breather.

Thou Shouldst Not Have Been Old Till Thou Hadst Been Wise.

And How His Audit Stands Who Knows, Save Heaven?