Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.- Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.- Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!
But here's the joy: my friend and I are one,
Sweet flattery!
It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you
will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and
gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got
deliver to a joyful resurrections!
The treasury of everlasting joy!
A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful
look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think,
his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and
now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.
Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met!
My joy is death-
Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure,
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy,
In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
Heaven, the treasury of everlasting joy.
Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
But here's the joy my friend and I are one... Then she loves but me alone
My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping.
This told, I joy; but then no longer glad,
I send them back again and straight grow sad.
O God that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts.
There
is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor,
and death for his ambition.
What win I, if I gain the thing I seek A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week Or sells eternity to 'get a toy For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
Think with thyself
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow,
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out.
And now what rests but that we spend the time; With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court; Sound drums and trumpets farewell sour annoy; For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
How sweet is love itself possess'd,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
Lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy I were but little happy, if I could say how much.
If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me
To death with mortal joy.
Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy were you this country's king,
As little joy you may suppose in me
That I enjoy, being the Queen thereof.
I wish you all the joy you can wish.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve;
Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love
With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars;
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd,
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
And force perforce I'll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.
Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories