The Truest Poetry Is The Most Feigning.

Too Nice, And Yet Too True!

Quince Francis Flute, The Bellows-mender. Flute Here, Peter Quince. Quince Flute, You Must Take Thisby On You. Flute What Is Thisby? A Wandering Knight? Quince It Is The Lady That Pyramus Must Love. Flute Nay, Faith, Let Me Not Play A Woman; I Have A Beard Coming.

Know More Than Other. Work More Than Other. Expect Less Than Other

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.

The Fringed Curtains Of Thine Eye Advance, And Say What Thou Seest Yond.