O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.
Let four captains Bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage, For he was likely, had he been put on, To have proved most royally.
Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white: When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: Then of thy beauty do I question make That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence.
Urge me no more, I shall forget myself.
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys; renown and grace is dead, The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
I will praise any man that will praise me.
Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
Thy loving voyage Is but for two months victualled.