Music, Moody Food Of Us That Trade

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.

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World.

We Do Pray For Mercy, And That Same Prayer Doth Teach Us All To Render The Deeds Of Mercy.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.