Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
Extremity is the trier of spirits.