William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

"The course of true love never die run smooth"

"HERMIAGod speed fair Helena! whither away?HELENACall you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,The rest I'd give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. HERMIAI frown upon him, yet he loves me still. HELENAO that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!HERMIAI give him curses, yet he gives me love. HELENAO that my prayers could such affection move!HERMIAThe more I hate, the more he follows me. HELENAThe more I love, the more he hateth me. HERMIAHis folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. HELENANone, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!"

"Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe."

"We will meet; and there we may rehearse mostobscenely and courageously. Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream. Spoken by Bottom, Act I Sc. 2"

"Brief as the lightning in the collied night;That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and Earth,And ere a man hath power to say "Behold!"The jaws of darkness do devour it up. So quick bright things come to confusion."

"Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh,Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,Will even weigh, and both as light as tales."

"Get you gone, you dwarf,You minimus of hindering knotgrass made,You bead, you acorn!"

"Weaving spiders, come not here, Hence, you long legged spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not here, worm nor snail, do no offense."

"Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad."

"Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream"

"BOTTOMThere are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladiescannot abide. How answer you that?SNOUTBy'r lakin, a parlous fear. STARVELINGI believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. BOTTOMNot a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem tosay, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the morebetter assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put themout of fear. QUINCEWell, we will have such a prologue; and it shall bewritten in eight and six. BOTTOMNo, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight."

"Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!"

"Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

"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 aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,To live a barren sister all your life,Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness."

"QUINCEFrancis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTEHere, Peter Quince. QUINCEFlute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTEWhat is Thisby? a wandering knight?QUINCEIt is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTENay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming."

"DEMETRIUSRelent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. LYSANDERYou have her father's love, Demetrius;Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him."

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

"... and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days..."

"Be as thou wast wont to be. See as thou wast wont to see."

"Be as thou wast wont to be."