As now I stand, so stood I when a child,
A rosy, chubby boy!--I am youthful to
A miracle! My arm is firm as 'twas
At twenty. Feel it!

True. [Feeling SIR WILLIAM'S arm.] It is deal!

Sir Wil. Oak--oak,
Isn't it, Master Trueworth? Thou hast known me
Ten years and upwards. Thinkest my leg is shrunk?

True. No.

Sir Wil. No! not in the calf?

True. As big a calf
As ever!

Sir Wil. Thank you, thank you--I believe it!
When others waste, 'tis growing-time with me!
I feel it, Master Trueworth! Vigour, sir,
In every joint of me--could run!--could leap!
Why shouldn't I marry? Knife and fork I play
Better than many a boy of twenty-five -
Why shouldn't I marry? If they come to wine,
My brace of bottles can I carry home,
And ne'er a headache. Death! why shouldn't I marry?

True. I see in nature no impediment.