Humor e Ironia

I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.

But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered.

Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock’d himself, and scorn’d his spirit That could be mov’d to smile at anything.

That’s the humor of it.

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key, With bated breath, and whispering humbleness, Say this.

A good mouth-filling oath.

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew, Than one of these same meter ballad-mongers.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!

My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamor’d of an ass.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab.

’Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words Since I first call’d my brother’s father dad.

And thus I clothe my naked villany With odd old ends stol’n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil.

Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Shall I crack any of those old jokes, master, At which the audience never fail to laugh?

When men drink, then they are rich and successful and win lawsuits and are happy and help their friends. Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine, so that I may wet my mind and say something clever.

Keep your eyes wide open before marriage and half shut afterwards.

There’s no greater absurdity than taking everything seriously.

Faultless to a fault.

The human brain is a complex organ with the wonderful power of enabling man to find reasons for continuing to believe whatever it is that he wants to believe.

For the love of God don’t condescend! Don’t assume the attitude of saying, “See how clever I am, and what fun everybody else is!”

The most intolerable people are provincial celebrities.

I am convinced as a member of the reading public that bad [author] photographs are bad business. I have been put off reading books, which otherwise looked rather attractive, by the puss of the author printed on the back of the dust cover.