A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear

Fools Are As Like Husbands As Pilchards Are To Herrings, The Husband's The Bigger.

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.

Report Me And My Cause Aright.

I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know Not--lost All My Mirth, Forgone All Custom Of Exercise.

Music Can Minister To Minds Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Its Sweet Oblivious Antidote, Cleanse The Full Bosom Of All Perilous Stuff That Weighs Upon The Heart.