Bottom. What is Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant? Quince. A lover that kills himself, most gallant, for love. Bottom. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes.
I as free forgive you As I would be forgiven: I forgive all.
If powers divine Behold our human actions—as they do— I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush.
The property of rain is to wet and fire to burn.
And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an universal prey And last eat up himself.
Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base? Who in the lusty stealth of nature take More composition and fierce quality Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops Got 'tween asleep and wake?
Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain,
Be cured Of this diseased opinion, and betimes, For 'tis most dangerous.
Chief Justice. Your means are very slender, and your waste is great. Falstaff. I would it were otherwise. I would my means were greater, and my waist slenderer.
Love is too young to know what conscience is, Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults, thy sweet self prove. For, thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body's treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love: flesh stays no farther reason, But rising at thy name doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call Her "love" for whose dear love I rise and fall.