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.
Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will!