Things Won Are Done, Joy's Soul Lies

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 Father Abram, What These Christians Are, Whose Own Hard Dealing Teaches Them Suspect The Thoughts Of Others!

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

In Winter's Tedious Nights Sit By The Fire With Good Old Folks, And Let Them Tell Thee Tales Of Woeful Ages, Long Ago Betid