Farewell, fair cruelty.

Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever

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.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.