Being Holiday, The Beggar's Shop Is Shut.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.

There Was Never Yet Philosopher That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently

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?

So, You Are Very Welcome To Our House. It Must Appear In Other Ways Than Words, Therefore, I Scant This Breathing Courtesy.

Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.