My mother had a maid called Barbary.
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her.
’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
A goodly medicine for my aching bones!
O world, world, world ! Thus is the poor agent despised.
O traitors and bawds,
Enobarbus, to Antony
Ha, my brave emperor,
Shall we dance now the Egyptian bacchanals
And celebrate our drink?
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples,
Nuncle, give me
an egg, and I’ll give thee two crowns.
What two crowns shall they be?
My masters, are you mad? Or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty but to
gabble like tinkers at this time of night?
I would this music would come. I am advised
to give her music a-mornings; they say it will
Let me choose,
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Upon the rack,
Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.
Sing, and disperse ’em if thou canst.
This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty
Let’s have some merry ones.
I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have
friends for my wife’s sake.
Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
How now, Ophelia?
How should I your true love know
From another one?
Rosalind, to Duke
I’ll have no father, if you be not he.
Highest queen of state,
Great Juno, comes. I know her by her gait.
How does my bounteous sister?
Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.
Take, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
Come, let’s all take hands
Till that the conquering wine hath steeped our sense
In soft and delicate Lethe.
Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling,
and a rich.
Which is he that killed the deer?
Sir, it was I.
Here’s neither bush nor shrub to bear off
any weather at all. And another storm brewing;
Come, come, I’ll hear no more of this. I’ll
sing you a song now.
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me
And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
Enter Orlando, carrying Adam.
Welcome. Set down your venerable burden,
And let him feed.
Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness.
How now, what noise is that?
O heat, dry up my brains!
Sir Andrew Aguecheek
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when
all is done. Now, a song!
Sir Toby Belch,
Our wooing doth not end like an old play.
Jack hath not Jill. These ladies’ courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
Olivia, to Malvolio
Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
Why, “some are born great,
O, master, if you did but hear the peddler at
the door, you would never dance again after a tabor
When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh, the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year,
Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
Then, for the third part of a minute,
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed! ’Tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatched.
How now, spirit? Whither wander you?
Over hill, over dale,
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell.
Ariel exits and at once returns
with Prospero’s ducal robes.
Guiderius, as Polydor
Let us bury him
And not protract with admiration what
Is now due debt.
Is this the monument of Leonato?
It is, my lord.
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario. It is old and plain;
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
O, good my lord,
Mistress Quickly, as Fairy Queen, to Sir Hugh
With trial-fire touch me his finger-end.
Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow
will we be married.
I do desire it with all my heart,
Now, my young guest, methinks you’re allycholly.
I pray you, why is it?