O, How Wretched Is That Poor Man

Cheerily To Sea; The Signs Of War Advance: No King Of England, If Not King Of France

Demetrius Relent, Sweet Hermia: And, Lysander, Yield Thy Crazed Title To My Certain Right. Lysander You Have Her Father's Love, Demetrius; Let Me Have Hermia's: Do You Marry Him.

There Is No Slander In An Allowed Fool, Though He Do Nothing But Rail.

For Some Must Watch, While Some Must Sleep So Runs The World Away

I Had Rather Chop This Hand Off At A Blow, And With The Other Fling It At Thy Face.