We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.

We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.

Twas a clever quibble. Here, a garment for it.

We cannot fight for love, as men may do; we shou'd be woo'd, and were not made to woo

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.

O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!