Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
O hell! to choose love by another's eye.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
DEMETRIUS Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. LYSANDER You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a...
Either to die the death or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, You can endure the livery of a nun, For a...
The course of true love never die run smooth
BOTTOM There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? SNOUT By'r lakin, a parlous fear. STARVELING I believe we must ...
If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend: And, ...
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the...
My soul is in the sky.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Be as thou wast wont to be.
