Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To

Fit For The Mountains And The Barbarous Caves, Where Manners Ne'er Were Preached.

Here Comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With His Mouth Full Of News. Celia: Which He Will Put On Us, As Pigeons Feed Their Young. Rosalind: Then Shall We Be News-crammed. Celia: All The Better; We Shall Be The More Marketable.

Golden Lads And Girls All Must As Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust.

We See Which Way The Stream Of Time Doth Run.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.