Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.

And mo the merier is a Prouerbe eke. [The more the merrier.]

Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it.
"Good thinking," said Luna seriously. "It's often infested with nargles.

Be merry if you are wise. [Lat., Ride si sapis.]

Therefore they thought it good for hear a play And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am by seeming otherwise.