Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.

[Marriage is] a world-without-end bargain.

But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.