The course of true love never did run smooth.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.
Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
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.
All is well that ends well
All's well that ends well.
To you your father should be as a god.
And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
So quick bright things come to confusion.
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
or simply:
