Could Beauty, My Lord, Have Better Commerce

You Have Her Father's Love, Demetrius; Let Me Have Hermia's: Do You Marry Him!

I Am Such A Tender Ass, If My Hair Do But Tickle Me, I Must Scratch.

Some Report A Sea-maid Spawn'd Him; Some That He Was Begot Between Two Stock-fishes. But It Is Certain That When He Makes Water His Urine Is Congealed Ice.

Press Not A Falling Man Too Far; 'tis Virtue: His Faults Lie Open To The Laws; Let Them, Not You, Correct Him.

Such Is My Love, To Thee I So Belong, That For Thy Right Myself Will Bear All Wrong.