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      Yet but three? Come one more;

      Two of both kinds makes up four.

       [Enter Hermia.]

      Here she comes, curst and sad.

      Cupid is a knavish lad,

      Thus to make poor females mad.

       Her.

      Never so weary, never so in woe,

      Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,

      I can no further crawl, no further go;

      My legs can keep no pace with my desires.

      Here will I rest me till the break of day.

      Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

       [Lies down and sleeps.]

       Puck.

      On the ground,

      Sleep sound;

      I’ll apply,

      [To] your eye,

      Gentle lover, remedy.

       [Squeezing the juice on Lysander’s eyes.]

      When thou wak’st,

      Thou tak’st

      True delight

      In the sight

      Of thy former lady’s eye;

      And the country proverb known,

      That every man should take his own,

      In your waking shall be shown.

      Jack shall have Jill;

      Nought shall go ill:

      The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.

       [Exit.]

       ¶

      ACT IV

      [Scene I]

       Enter Queen of Fairies [Titania] and Clown [Bottom], and Fairies [Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and others, attending], and the King [Oberon] behind them [unseen].

       Tita.

      Come sit thee down upon this flow’ry bed,

      While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

      And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,

      And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

      Bot. Where’s Peaseblossom?

      Peas. Ready.

      Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where’s Mounsieur Cobweb?

      Cob. Ready.

      Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red- hipp’d humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not, I would be loath to have you overflowen with a honey-bag, signior. Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed?

      Mus. Ready.

      Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your curtsy, good mounsieur.

      Mus. What’s your will?

      Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s, mounsieur; for methinks I am marvail’s hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

       Tita.

      What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

      Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s have the tongs and the bones.

       [Music. Tongs. Rural music.]

       Tita.

      Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.

      Bot. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

       Tita.

      I have a venturous fairy that shall seek

      The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

      Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.

       Tita.

      Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.

      Fairies, be gone, and be [all ways] away.

       [Exeunt Fairies.]

      So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle

      Gently entwist; the female ivy so

      Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.

      O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

       [They sleep.]

       Enter Robin Goodfellow [Puck].

      Obe. [Advancing.]

      Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight?

      Her dotage now I do begin to pity.

      For meeting her of late behind the wood,

      Seeking sweet favors for this hateful fool,

      I did upbraid her, and fall out with her.

      For she his hairy temples then had rounded

      With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;

      And that same dew which sometime on the buds

      Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,

      Stood now within the pretty flouriets’ eyes,

      Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.

      When I had at my pleasure taunted her,

      And she in mild terms begg’d my patience,

      I then did ask of her her changeling child;

      Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent

      To bear him to my bower in fairy land.

      And now I have the boy, I will undo

      This hateful imperfection of her eyes.

      And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp

      From off the head of this Athenian swain,

      That he, awaking when the other do,

      May all to Athens back again repair,

      And think no more of this night’s accidents

      But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

      But first I will release the Fairy Queen.

       [Touching her eyes.]

      Be as thou wast wont to be;

      See as thou wast wont to see.

      Dian’s bud [o’er] Cupid’s flower

      Hath such force and blessed power.

      Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet

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