Tis A Happy Thing To Be The

There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings.

To Thine Own Self Be True, And It Must Follow, As The Night The Day, Thou Canst Not Then Be False To Any Man.

O, Then I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You. . . . She Is The Fairies’ Midwife, And She Comes In Shape No Bigger Than An Agate Stone On The Forefinger Of An Alderman, Drawn With A Team Of Little Atomi Athwart Men’s Noses As They Lie Asleep.

I Have Heard It Said There Is An Art Which In Their Piedness Shares With Great Creating Nature.

You Saw Her Fair, None Else Being By, Herself Pois'd With Herself In Either Eye; But In That Crystal Scales Let There Be Weigh'd Your Lady's Love Against Some Other Maid That I Will Show You Shining At This Feast, And She Shall Scant Show Well That Now Seems Best.