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: We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.
: My King! My Jove! I speak to thee my heart! Prince Hal
: I know thee not, old man; fall to thy prayers!/ How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
: There lives not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old.
: [stroking his vast gut
] Do I not shrink? Do I not dwindle? My skin hangs upon me like an old woman's loose gown.