Philomel with melody,

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Never harm

Nor spell nor charm

Come our lovely lady nigh.

So good night, with lullaby.

Titania sleeps

SECOND FAIRY

Hence, away. Now all is well.

One aloof stand sentinel.

Exeunt all but Titania ⌈and the sentinel⌉ Enter Oberon. He drops the juice on Titania’s eyelids

OBERON

What thou seest when thou dost wake,

Do it for thy true love take;

Love and languish for his sake.

Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,

Pard, or boar with bristled hair,

In thy eye that shall appear

When thou wak’st, it is thy dear.

Wake when some vile thing is near. Exit

Enter Lysander and Hermia

LYSANDER

Fair love, you faint with wand’ring in the wood,

And, to speak truth, I have forgot our way.

We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,

And tarry for the comfort of the day.

HERMIA

Be it so, Lysander. Find you out a bed;

For I upon this bank will rest my head.

⌈She lies down⌉

LYSANDER

One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;

One heart, one bed; two bosoms, and one troth.

HERMIA

Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,

Lie further off yet; do not lie so near.

LYSANDER

O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!

Love takes the meaning in love’s conference—

I mean that my heart unto yours is knit,

So that but one heart we can make of it.

Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath;

So, then, two bosoms and a single troth.

Then by your side no bed-room me deny;

For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.

HERMIA

Lysander riddles very prettily.

Now much beshrew my manners and my pride

If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.

But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy,

Lie further off, in humane modesty.

Such separation as may well be said

Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,

So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend.

Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end.

LYSANDER

Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I;

And then end life when I end loyalty.

Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest.

He lies down

HERMIA

With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be pressed.

They sleep apart.

Enter Robin Goodfellow the puck

ROBIN

Through the forest have I gone,

But Athenian found I none

On whose eyes I might approve

This flower’s force in stirring love.

Night and silence. Who is here?

Weeds of Athens he doth wear.

This is he my master said

Despised the Athenian maid—

And here the maiden, sleeping sound

On the dank and dirty ground.

Pretty soul, she durst not lie

Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.

Churl, upon thy eyes I throw

All the power this charm doth owe.

He drops the juice on Lysander’s eyelids

When thou wak’st, let love forbid

Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.

So, awake when I am gone.

For I must now to Oberon. Exit

Enter Demetrius and Helena, running

HELENA

Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.

DEMETRIUS

I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.

HELENA

O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.

DEMETRIUS

Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go. Exit

HELENA

O, I am out of breath in this fond chase.

The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

Happy is Hermia, wheresoe‘er she lies;

For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears—

If so, my eyes are oft’ner washed than hers.

No, no; I am as ugly as a bear, 100

For beasts that meet me run away for fear.

Therefore no marvel though Demetrius

Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.

What wicked and dissembling glass of mine

Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne!

But who is here? Lysander, on the ground?

Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.

Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

LYSANDER (awaking)

And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.

Transparent Helena, nature shows art

That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.

Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word

Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

HELENA

Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.

What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what

though?

Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content.

LYSANDER

Content with Hermia? No, I do repent

The tedious minutes I with her have spent.

Not Hermia but Helena I love.

Who will not change a raven for a dove?

The will of man is by his reason swayed,

And reason says you are the worthier maid.

Things growing are not ripe until their season,

So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason.