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Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
To feed, and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd ?
No, let the candy'd tongue lick absurd pomp;
Why, what a deal of candied courtesy,
Why these looks of care?
Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise,
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun,
In good set terms,
and yet a motley fool.
In his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder-bisket
After a voyage,
he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents
I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:
They most must laugh: and why, sir, must they so?
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
And then he drew a dial from his poke ;
Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags;
And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven;
When I did hear,
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
That such a crafty devil as his mother
Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that
Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace.
'Tis far off;
And rather like a dream, than an assurance my remembrance warrants.
Kneel not to me :
that I have on you, is to spare you;
The malice towards you, to forgive you : live,
And deal with others better.
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance.
O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder !-
I'll not chide thee:
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it ;
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
Lord Angelo is precise;
Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses
Ceremony was but devis'd at first,
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
When fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatʼning eye.
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,
Will fortune never come with both hands full,
Fortune is merry,
This accident and flood of fortune
So far exceed all instance, all discourse,
And wrangle with my reason, that persuades me
Since you will buckle fortune on my back, ́
A hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller;
Friendship is constant in all other things,
And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch,
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been
man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks.