Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.

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.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

On pain of death, no person be so bold.

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.

For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.