I Say, Without Characters, Fame Lives Long.

Then Know, That I Have Little Wealth To Lose. A Man I Am, Crossed With Adversity; My Riches Are These Poor Habiliments, Of Which If You Should Here Disfurnish Me, You Take The Sum And Substance That I Have.

O Sir, You Are Old; Nature In You Stands On The Very Verge Of Her Confine; You Should Be Ruled And Led By Some Discretion, That Discerns Your Fate Better Than You Yourself.

A Hit, A Very Palpable Hit.

This Is His Uncle's Teaching, This Worcester, Malevolent To You In All Aspects, Which Makes Him Prune Himself And Bristle Up The Crest Of Youth Against Your Dignity.

To Stand Against The Deep Dread-bolted Thunder, In The Most Terrible And Nimble Stroke Of Quick, Cross Lightning.