Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school.
You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.
T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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.
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.