Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day. - William Shakespeare

And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

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 pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.