William Shakespeare

A Midsummer Night's Dream

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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
I
do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet
comedy.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
man is but a patched fool,
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
man is but an ass
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
ood morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
though she be but little, she is fierce.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
If she cannot entreat, I can compel
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
miserable most, to love unloved?
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grow together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
nadakhorchani12цитуєминулого місяця
—O, is it all forgot?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
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