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 will pardon, we will mend. As I am an honest Puck, We have unearned luck To have 'scaped the serpent's tongue; We will make amends 'ere long. Else the Puck a liar call; So, goodnight, unto you all Give me your hands if we be friends; And Robil shall restore amends.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last sylable of recorded time And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death Out out brief candle Life’s but a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing

Come gentle night, come, loving black-browed night, Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die Take him and cut him into little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.