My vexation at thy presumptuous conduct has robbed me of my colour. […] No more thy hand shall stroke this beard; no more Embrace thy mother’s father, nor thy voice Address me thus: ‘Who wrings thy heart With rude offence? […] If any should forget to honour thy reverend age, I will punish him.’” […] Time and age shall not wither thy foliage, but thy verdure shall be at once the emblem of glory and of immortality!” […] I have commanded this cloud to envelop thy path, and I can dispel it.”