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By the pricking of my thumbs, I will wear my heart upon my sleeve Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge.
Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him. To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. He saves my labour by his own approach.
Neither a borrower or a lender be. that's neither here nor there. But look to it: Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee.
The course of true love never did run smooth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion: Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? And when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.
Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir; No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. But look to it: Find out thy brother wheresoe'er he is; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory.
At one fell swoop That's meat and drink to me, now. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure. O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having; it is not so with thee. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee.
No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him. If he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off; I overheard him and his practices. When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer That fools should be so deep contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. O noble fool! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here, And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.
The King's a beggar, now the play is done. No, fair Princess; he is the general challenger. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
The game is up. that's neither here nor there. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes of and on at pleasure. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood! To the which place a poor sequest'red stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. And they are often tarr'd over with the surgery of our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfum'd with civet.
It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.