Biron they call him; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal : His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest... Much ado about nothing. The marchant of Venice. Love's labour lost. As you ... - Page 207 by William Shakespeare - 1747 Full view -
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