O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.

Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

And she's fair I love.

I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.

Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.

Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.