Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania

If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud you again.

Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

I...Kisss the tender inward of thy hand.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.