j.griffioen (sweet juniper):
Alas, poor Tomato! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy:
j.griffioen (sweet juniper):
He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it.
j.griffioen (sweet juniper):
Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment? That were wont to set the table on a roar?
j.griffioen (sweet juniper):
Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
j.griffioen (sweet juniper):
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.