The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.

The wheel is come full circle.

His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.

Love that well which thou must leave ere long.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.