'When thou wak'st let love forbid. Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. So wake when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon.'
'Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none. If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourned, And now to Helena is it home returned, There to remain.'
Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. When his love the doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously. As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy.
'I have a widow aunt, a dowager, Of great revenue, and she hath no child; From Athens is her house remote seven leagues'