Give, and it shall be given to you: good measure and pressed down and shaken together and running over shall they give into your bosom. For with the same measure that you shall mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.
I am this day fourscore years old. Are my senses quick to discern sweet and bitter? Or can meat or drink delight thy servant? Or can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women? Why should thy servant be a burden to my lord, the king?
But I beseech thee let thy servant return, and die in my own city, and be buried by the sepulchre of my father, and of my mother. But there is thy servant Chamaam, let him go with thee, my lord the king, and do to him whatsoever seemeth good to thee.
Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, before the time of affliction come, and the years draw nigh of which thou shalt say: They please me not: