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We never valued this poor seat of England,
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
To barbarous read more
We never valued this poor seat of England,
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
To barbarous license; as 'tis ever common
That men are merriest when they are from home.
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a.
A merry heart goes all read more
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a.
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.
(Pedro:) Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you for out o' question you were read more
(Pedro:) Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best
becomes you for out o' question you were born in a merry hour.
(Beatrice:) No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there
was a star danced, and under that was I born.
Hostess, clap to the doors. Watch to-night, pray to-morrow.
Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of read more
Hostess, clap to the doors. Watch to-night, pray to-morrow.
Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good
fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? Shall we have
a play extempore.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot read more
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
The table round.
Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
The table round.
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprov'd pleasures read more
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreprov'd pleasures free.
What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully
my mother looks, and my father read more
What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully
my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than read more
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.