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No, no, no, your son was misled

No, no, no, your son was misled with a
snipped-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron
would have made all the unbaked and doughy
youth of a nation in his color. Your daughter-in-law
had been alive at this hour, and your son here
at home, more advanced by the King than by that
red-tailed humble-bee I speak of.

’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady.
We may pick a thousand salads ere
we light on such another herb.

I would I had not known him. It was the
death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever
nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken
of my flesh and cost me the dearest groans of a
mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love.
’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may
pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.
Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the
salad, or rather the herb of grace.
They are not herbs, you knave. They are
I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir. I have not
much skill in grass.
Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool?
A fool, sir, at a woman’s service, and a knave at a man’s.
Your distinction?
I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service.
So you were a knave at his service indeed.
And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do
her service.
I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave
and fool.
At your service.
No, no, no.
Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as
great a prince as you are.
Who’s that, a Frenchman?
Faith, sir, he has an English name, but his
phys’nomy is more hotter in France than there.
What prince is that?
The black prince, sir, alias the prince of darkness,
alias the devil.
Lafew, giving him money
Hold thee, there’s my purse. I give thee not this
to suggest thee from thy master thou talk’st of.
Serve him still.
I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a
great fire, and the master I speak of ever keeps a
good fire. But sure he is the prince of the world; let
his Nobility remain in ’s court. I am for the house
with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little
for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves
may, but the many will be too chill and tender, and
they’ll be for the flow’ry way that leads to the
broad gate and the great fire.

Act 4
Scene 5
Line 37

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