"O, Nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this
rain-water out o' door. Good Nuncle, in; ask thy daughter's blessing:
here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools."

SVIETLOVIDOFF.

"Rumble thy bellyful! spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children."

Ah! there is strength, there is talent for you! I'm a great artist! Now,
then, here's something else of the same kind, to bring back my youth to
me. For instance, take this, from Hamlet, I'll begin . . . Let me see,
how does it go? Oh, yes, this is it. [Takes the part of Hamlet]

"O! the recorders, let me see one.--To withdraw with you. Why do you go
about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?"

IVANITCH. "O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
unmannerly."

SVIETLOVIDOFF. "I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this
pipe?"

IVANITCH. "My lord, I cannot."

SVIETLOVIDOFF. "I pray you."

IVANITCH. "Believe me, I cannot."