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Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on; The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
And we mean well in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go.
I dream'd a dream tonight.
That dreamers often lie.
This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves; Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
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