rest you merry!

I see the trick an’t; here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas comedy.

Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.

Heigh-ho, sing heigh-ho! Unto the green holly

Be merry, be merry.

Come on, sit down, come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites; you’re pow’rful at it.

There—and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Now get you to my lady’s chamber and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.

Ursula, bring my picture there.

So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them.

Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murder’s rages, Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages.

Afore God, a mad host.

My tables—meet it is I set it down That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain! At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.

Art made tongue-tied by authority.

O, what damned minutes

Let me end the story

What old December’s bareness every where!

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly.

“This is my glove,” by this hand I will take thee a box on the ear.

They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol

Mad call I it, for to define true madness, What is’t but to be nothing else but mad?

Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides, Who covers faults, at last with shame derides.

As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch’d.

Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch’d with foul moles and eye-offending marks

Vast sin-concealing chaos

O, be some other name!

You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow

Thou hast painfully discover'd; are his files As full as thy report?

Doth he still rage? [Exit Bigot.]

'tis trash. Farewell. - Troilus and Cressida (II, 1)

Where did you study all this goodly speech?

If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleas’d me, complexions that lik’d me, and breaths that I defied not

What fair lady’s that?

A health, gentlemen! Let it go round.

Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels, that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former days.

Do you see this? Look on her! Look her lips, Look there, look there!

What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?

I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, ’Twould fall upon ourselves.

Your painted gloss discovers, To men that understand you, words and weakness.

Well, Susan is with God, She was too good for me.

Not much employment for you. You understand me?

If you can behold it, I’ll make the statue move indeed, descend

For them all together, which maintain’d so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them.

This closing with him fits his lunacy.

all slops

Bring me no more reports, let them fly all.

O, horrible, O, horrible, most horrible!

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

For this relief much thanks. ’Tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.