For My Part, If A Lie May

Nor Stony Tower, Nor Walls Of Beaten Brass, Nor Airless Dungeon, Nor Strong Links Of Iron, Can Be Retentive To The Strength Of Spirit; But Life, Being Weary Of These Worldly Bars, Never Lacks Power To Dismiss Itself.

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.

Merciful Heaven, Thou Rather With Thy Sharp And Sulphurous Bolt Splits The Unwedgeable And Gnarled Oak Than The Soft Myrtle; But Man, Proud Man, Dressed In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured His Glassy Essence--like An Angry Ape Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven As Makes The Angels Weep; Who, With Our Spleens, Would All Themselves Laugh Mortal.

He That Has A House To Put's Head In Has A Good Head-piece.

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come.