Ay, ay

Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

“One Sir Andrew”⁠—

There’s hope in’t yet.

Not mine, in good sooth.

As the weird women promis'd

Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee

memories

[Exeunt omnes.]

And so do I.

boss’d

You are a saucy boy.

Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?

Can this be so?

There is my bond of faith, To tie thee to my strong correction.

this is but one.

Up to the breach, you dogs!

turn the sands into eloquent tongues

But I have words That would be howl’d out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them.

Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight

May I see the garden?

By th’ mass and ’tis, like a camel indeed.

I speak of Africa and golden joys.

Thou liest, thou jesting monkey thou!

FIRST CLOWN …A tanner will last you nine year. HAMLET Why he more than another? FIRST CLOWN Why, sir, his hide is so tann’d with his trade that ’a will keep out water a great while, and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.

Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace.

The tender leaves of hopes, tomorrow blossoms

white and azure lac’d With blue of heaven’s own tinct.