Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon
Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight
Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
I thank you all and here dismiss you all, and to the love and favor of my country commit myself, my person, and the cause.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.