Emotions and Feelings

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 atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.

One fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish.

One fire burns out another’s burning, One pain is lessen’d by another’s anguish.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here While these visions did appear.

But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigur’d so together, More witnesseth than fancy’s images, And grows to something of great constancy, But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamor’d of an ass.

My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamor’d of an ass.

So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Though she be but little, she is fierce.

As a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings.

As a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings.

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?

These are the forgeries of jealousy.

I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometimes lurk I in a gossip’s bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind. 9

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say, “Behold!” The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.

This music mads me: let it sound no more.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes.

A mockery king of snow.

You may my glories and my state depose, But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

You may my glories and my state depose, But not my griefs; still am I king of those.

Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets filling one another; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen and full of water: That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.

Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets filling one another; The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen and full of water: That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.