Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.

Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.

Be still prepared for death: and death or life shall thereby be the sweeter.

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?

Through the forest have I gone. But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. Night and silence.--Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear: This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul! she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. When thou wakest, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: So awake when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon.