How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear

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, As I Am An Honest Puck, If We Have Unearned Luck Now To 'scape The Serpent's Tongue, We Will Make Amends Ere Long; Else The Puck A Liar Call; So, Good Night Unto You All. Give Me Your Hands, If We Be Friends, And Robin Shall Restore Amends.

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.

Who Knows Himself A Braggart, Let Him Fear This; For It Will Come To Pass That Every Braggart Will Be Found An Ass.

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.