No, No; 'tis All Men's Office To

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Beshrew The Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan.

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

I Have No Way And Therefore Want No Eyes I Stumbled When I Saw. Full Oft 'tis Seen Our Means Secure Us, And Our Mere Defects Prove Our Commodities.

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.