So Full Of Shapes Is

O Excellent! I Love Long Life Better Than Figs.

The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Can Afford Is A Spotless Reputation.

Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger; Stiffen The Sinews, Summon Up The Blood.

I Would There Were No Age Between Sixteen And Three-and-twenty, Or That Youth Would Sleep Out The Rest; For There Is Nothing In The Between But Getting Wenches With Child, Wronging The Ancientry, Stealing, Fighting

O, Then I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You. . . . She Is The Fairies’ Midwife, And She Comes In Shape No Bigger Than An Agate Stone On The Forefinger Of An Alderman, Drawn With A Team Of Little Atomi Athwart Men’s Noses As They Lie Asleep.