Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

Be Wise As Thou Art Cruel, Do Not Press My Tongue-tied Patience With Too Much Disdain: Lest Sorrow Lend Me Words And Words Express, The Manner Of My Pity-wanting Pain.

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

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.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.

God Send Everyone Their Heart's Desire!