| OBERON |
Stand close: this is the same Athenian. |
|
| PUCK |
This is the woman, but not this the man. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? |
|
| |
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. |
|
| HERMIA |
Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, |
|
| |
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, |
|
| |
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, |
|
| |
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, |
|
| |
And kill me too. |
|
| |
The sun was not so true unto the day |
50 |
| |
As he to me: would he have stolen away |
|
| |
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon |
|
| |
This whole earth may be bored and that the moon |
|
| |
May through the centre creep and so displease |
|
| |
Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. |
|
| |
It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; |
|
| |
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
So should the murder'd look, and so should I, |
|
| |
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: |
|
| |
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, |
60 |
| |
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. |
|
| HERMIA |
What's this to my Lysander? where is he? |
|
| |
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. |
|
| HERMIA |
Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds |
|
| |
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? |
|
| |
Henceforth be never number'd among men! |
|
| |
O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! |
|
| |
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, |
|
| |
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! |
70 |
| |
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? |
|
| |
An adder did it; for with doubler tongue |
|
| |
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
You spend your passion on a misprised mood: |
|
| |
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; |
|
| |
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. |
|
| HERMIA |
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
An if I could, what should I get therefore? |
|
| HERMIA |
A privilege never to see me more. |
|
| |
And from thy hated presence part I so: |
80 |
| |
See me no more, whether he be dead or no. |
|
| |
Exit |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
There is no following her in this fierce vein: |
|
| |
Here therefore for a while I will remain. |
|
| |
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow |
|
| |
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: |
|
| |
Which now in some slight measure it will pay, |
|
| |
If for his tender here I make some stay. |
|
| |
Lies down and sleeps |
|
| OBERON |
What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite |
|
| |
And laid the love–juice on some true–love's sight: |
|
| |
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue |
90 |
| |
Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true. |
|
| PUCK |
Then fate o'er–rules, that, one man holding troth, |
|
| |
A million fail, confounding oath on oath. |
|
| OBERON |
About the wood go swifter than the wind, |
|
| |
And Helena of Athens look thou find: |
|
| |
All fancy–sick she is and pale of cheer, |
|
| |
With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: |
|
| |
By some illusion see thou bring her here: |
|
| |
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. |
|
| PUCK |
I go, I go; look how I go, |
100 |
| |
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. |
|
| |
Exit |
|
| OBERON |
Flower of this purple dye, |
|
| |
Hit with Cupid's archery, |
|
| |
Sink in apple of his eye. |
|
| |
When his love he doth espy, |
|
| |
Let her shine as gloriously |
|
| |
As the Venus of the sky. |
|
| |
When thou wakest, if she be by, |
|
| |
Beg of her for remedy. |
|
| |
Re–enter PUCK |
|
| PUCK |
Captain of our fairy band, |
110 |
| |
Helena is here at hand; |
|
| |
And the youth, mistook by me, |
|
| |
Pleading for a lover's fee. |
|
| |
Shall we their fond pageant see? |
|
| |
Lord, what fools these mortals be! |
|
| OBERON |
Stand aside: the noise they make |
|
| |
Will cause Demetrius to awake. |
|
| PUCK |
Then will two at once woo one; |
|
| |
That must needs be sport alone; |
|
| |
And those things do best please me |
120 |
| |
That befal preposterously. |
|
| |
Enter LYSANDER and HELENA |
|
| LYSANDER |
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? |
|
| |
Scorn and derision never come in tears: |
|
| |
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, |
|
| |
In their nativity all truth appears. |
|
| |
How can these things in me seem scorn to you, |
|
| |
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? |
|
| HELENA |
You do advance your cunning more and more. |
|
| |
When truth kills truth, O devilish–holy fray! |
|
| |
These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? |
130 |
| |
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: |
|
| |
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, |
|
| |
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. |
|
| LYSANDER |
I had no judgment when to her I swore. |
|
| HELENA |
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Awaking |
|
| |
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? |
|
| |
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show |
|
| |
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! |
140 |
| |
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, |
|
| |
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow |
|
| |
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss |
|
| |
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! |
|
| HELENA |
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent |
|
| |
To set against me for your merriment: |
|
| |
If you we re civil and knew courtesy, |
|
| |
You would not do me thus much injury. |
|
| |
Can you not hate me, as I know you do, |
|
| |
But you must join in souls to mock me too? |
150 |
| |
If you were men, as men you are in show, |
|
| |
You would not use a gentle lady so; |
|
| |
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, |
|
| |
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. |
|
| |
You both are rivals, and love Hermia; |
|
| |
And now both rivals, to mock Helena: |
|
| |
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, |
|
| |
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes |
|
| |
With your derision! none of noble sort |
|
|
Would so offend a virgin, and extort |
|
|
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. |
|
| LYSANDER |
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; |
|
| |
For you love Hermia; this you know I know: |
|
| |
And here, with all good will, with all my heart, |
|
| |
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; |
|
| |
And yours of Helena to me bequeath, |
|
| |
Whom I do love and will do till my death. |
|
| HELENA |
Never did mockers waste more idle breath. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: |
|
| |
If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. |
170 |
| |
My heart to her but as guest–wise sojourn'd, |
|
| |
And now to Helen is it home return'd, |
|
| |
There to remain. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Helen, it is not so. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, |
|
| |
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. |
|
| |
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. |
|
| |
Re–enter HERMIA |
|
| HERMIA |
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, |
|
| |
The ear more quick of apprehension makes; |
|
| |
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, |
|
| |
It pays the hearing double recompense. |
180 |
| |
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; |
|
| |
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound |
|
| |
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? |
|
| LYSANDER |
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? |
|
| HERMIA |
What love could press Lysander from my side? |
|
| LYSANDER |
Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, |
|
| |
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night |
|
| |
Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. |
|
| |
Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know, |
|
| |
The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? |
190 |
| HERMIA |
You speak not as you think: it cannot be. |
|
| HELENA |
Lo, she is one of this confederacy! |
|
| |
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three |
|
| |
To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. |
|
| |
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! |
|
| |
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived |
|
| |
To bait me with this foul derision? |
|
| |
Is all the counsel that we two have shared, |
|
| |
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, |
|
| |
When we have chid the hasty–footed time |
200 |
| |
For parting us,––O, is it all forgot? |
|
| |
All school–days' friendship, childhood innocence? |
|
| |
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, |
|
| |
Have with our needles created both one flower, |
|
| |
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, |
|
| |
Both warbling of one song, both in one key, |
|
| |
As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, |
|
| |
Had been incorporate. So we grow together, |
|
| |
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, |
210 |
| |
But yet an union in partition; |
|
| |
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; |
|
| |
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; |
|
| |
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, |
|
| |
Due but to one and crowned with one crest. |
|
| |
And will you rent our ancient love asunder, |
|
| |
To join with men in scorning your poor friend? |
|
| |
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: |
|
| |
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, |
|
| |
Though I alone do feel the injury. |
|
| HERMIA |
I am amazed at your passionate words. |
220 |
| |
I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. |
|
| HELENA |
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, |
|
| |
To follow me and praise my eyes and face? |
|
| |
And made your other love, Demetrius, |
|
| |
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, |
|
| |
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, |
|
| |
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this |
|
| |
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander |
|
| |
Deny your love, so rich within his soul, |
|
| |
And tender me, forsooth, affection, |
230 |
| |
But by your setting on, by your consent? |
|
| |
What thought I be not so in grace as you, |
|
| |
So hung upon with love, so fortunate, |
|
| |
But miserable most, to love unloved? |
|
| |
This you should pity rather than despise. |
|
| HERNIA |
I understand not what you mean by this. |
|
| HELENA |
Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, |
|
| |
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; |
|
| |
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: |
|
| |
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. |
240 |
| |
If you have any pity, grace, or manners, |
|
| |
You would not make me such an argument. |
|
| |
But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; |
|
| |
Which death or absence soon shall remedy. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: |
|
| |
My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! |
|
| HELENA |
O excellent! |
|
| HERMIA |
Sweet, do not scorn her so. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
If she cannot entreat, I can compel. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: |
|
| |
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. |
|
| |
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: |
251 |
| |
I swear by that which I will lose for thee, |
|
| |
To prove him false that says I love thee not. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
I say I love thee more than he can do. |
|
| LYSANDER |
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Quick, come! |
|
| HERMIA |
Lysander, whereto tends all this? |
|
| LYSANDER |
Away, you Ethiope! |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
No, no; he'll … |
|
| |
Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, |
|
| |
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! |
|
| LYSANDER |
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, |
|
| |
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! |
261 |
| HERMIA |
Why are you grown so rude? what change is this? |
|
| |
Sweet love,–– |
|
| LYSANDER |
Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! |
|
| |
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence! |
|
| HERMIA |
Do you not jest? |
|
| HELENA |
Yes, sooth; and so do you. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
I would I had your bond, for I perceive |
|
| |
A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word. |
|
| LYSANDER |
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? |
|
| |
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. |
270 |
| HERMIA |
What, can you do me greater harm than hate? |
|
| |
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love! |
|
| |
Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? |
|
| |
I am as fair now as I was erewhile. |
|
| |
Since night you loved me; yet since night you left |
|
| |
me: |
|
| |
Why, then you left me––O, the gods forbid!–– |
|
| |
In earnest, shall I say? |
|
| LYSANDER |
Ay, by my life; |
|
| |
And never did desire to see thee more. |
|
| |
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; |
|
| |
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest |
280 |
| |
That I do hate thee and love Helena. |
|
| HERMIA |
O me! you juggler! you canker–blossom! |
|
| |
You thief of love! what, have you come by night |
|
| |
And stolen my love's heart from him? |
|
| HELENA |
Fine, i'faith! |
|
| |
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, |
|
| |
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear |
|
| |
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? |
|
| |
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! |
|
| HERMIA |
Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game. |
|
| |
Now I perceive that she hath made compare |
290 |
| |
Between our statures; she hath urged her height; |
|
| |
And with her personage, her tall personage, |
|
| |
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. |
|
| |
And are you grown so high in his esteem; |
|
| |
Because I am so dwarfish and so low? |
|
| |
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; |
|
| |
How low am I? I am not yet so low |
|
| |
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. |
|
| HELENA |
I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, |
|
| |
Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; |
300 |
| |
I have no gift at all in shrewishness; |
|
| |
I am a right maid for my cowardice: |
|
| |
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, |
|
| |
Because she is something lower than myself, |
|
| |
That I can match her. |
|
| HERMIA |
Lower! hark, again. |
|
| HELENA |
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. |
|
| |
I evermore did love you, Hermia, |
|
| |
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; |
|
| |
Save that, in love unto Demetrius, |
|
| |
I told him of your stealth unto this wood. |
310 |
| |
He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him; |
|
| |
But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me |
|
| |
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: |
|
| |
And now, so you will let me quiet go, |
|
| |
To Athens will I bear my folly back |
|
| |
And follow you no further: let me go: |
|
| |
You see how simple and how fond I am. |
|
| HERMIA |
Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you? |
|
| HELENA |
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. |
|
| HERMIA |
What, with Lysander? |
|
| HELENA |
With Demetrius. |
320 |
| LYSANDER |
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. |
|
| HELENA |
O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! |
|
| |
She was a vixen when she went to school; |
|
| |
And though she be but little, she is fierce. |
|
| HERMIA |
Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'! |
|
| |
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? |
|
| |
Let me come to her. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Get you gone, you dwarf; |
|
| |
You minimus, of hindering knot–grass made; |
|
| |
You bead, you acorn. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
You are too officious |
330 |
| |
In her behalf that scorns your services. |
|
| |
Let her alone: speak not of Helena; |
|
| |
Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend |
|
| |
Never so little show of love to her, |
|
| |
Thou shalt aby it. |
|
| LYSANDER |
Now she holds me not; |
|
| |
Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, |
|
| |
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. |
|
| |
Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS |
|
| HERMIA |
You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: |
|
| |
Nay, go not back. |
|
| HELENA |
I will not trust you, I, |
340 |
| |
Nor longer stay in your curst company. |
|
| |
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, |
|
| |
My legs are longer though, to run away. |
|
| |
Exit |
|
| HERMIA |
I am amazed, and know not what to say. |
|
| |
Exit |
|
| OBERON |
This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, |
|
| |
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. |
|
| PUCK |
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. |
|
| |
Did not you tell me I should know the man |
|
| |
By the Athenian garment be had on? |
|
| |
And so far blameless proves my enterprise, |
350 |
| |
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; |
|
| |
And so far am I glad it so did sort |
|
| |
As this their jangling I esteem a sport. |
|
| OBERON |
Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight: |
|
| |
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; |
|
| |
The starry welkin cover thou anon |
|
| |
With drooping fog as black as Acheron, |
|
| |
And lead these testy rivals so astray |
|
| |
As one come not within another's way. |
|
| |
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, |
360 |
| |
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; |
|
| |
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; |
|
| |
And from each other look thou lead them thus, |
|
| |
Till o'er their brows death–counterfeiting sleep |
|
| |
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: |
|
| |
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; |
|
| |
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, |
|
| |
To take from thence all error with his might, |
|
| |
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. |
|
| |
When they next wake, all this derision |
370 |
| |
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, |
|
| |
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, |
|
| |
With league whose date till death shall never end. |
|
| |
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, |
|
| |
I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy; |
|
| |
And then I will her charmed eye release |
|
| |
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. |
|
| PUCK |
My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, |
|
| |
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, |
|
| |
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; |
380 |
| |
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, |
|
| |
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, |
|
| |
That in crossways and floods have burial, |
|
| |
Already to their wormy beds are gone; |
|
| |
For fear lest day should look their shames upon, |
|
| |
They willfully themselves exile from light |
|
| |
And must for aye consort with black–brow'd night. |
|
| OBERON |
But we are spirits of another sort: |
|
| |
I with the morning's love have oft made sport, |
|
| |
And, like a forester, the groves may tread, |
390 |
| |
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery–red, |
|
| |
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, |
|
| |
Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. |
|
| |
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: |
|
| |
We may effect this business yet ere day. |
|
| |
Exit OBERON |
|
| PUCK |
Up and down, up and down, |
|
| |
I will lead them up and down: |
|
| |
I am fear'd in field and town: |
|
| |
Goblin, lead them up and down. |
|
| |
Here comes one. |
400 |
| |
Re–enter LYSANDER |
|
| LYSANDER |
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now. |
|
| PUCK |
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou? |
|
| LYSANDER |
I will be with thee straight. |
|
| PUCK |
Follow me, then, |
|
| |
To plainer ground. |
|
| |
Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice. |
|
| |
Re–enter DEMETRIUS |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Lysander! speak again. |
|
| |
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? |
|
| |
Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? |
|
| PUCK |
Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, |
|
| |
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, |
|
| |
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child; |
|
| |
I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled |
410 |
| |
That draws a sword on thee. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Yea, art thou there? |
|
| PUCK |
Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. |
|
| |
Exeunt |
|
| |
Re–enter LYSANDER |
|
| LYSANDER |
He goes before me and still dares me on: |
|
| |
When I come where he calls, then he is gone. |
|
| |
The villain is much lighter–heel'd than I: |
|
| |
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly; |
|
| |
That fallen am I in dark uneven way, |
|
| |
And here will rest me. |
|
| |
Lies down |
|
| |
Come, thou gentle day! |
|
| |
For if but once thou show me thy grey light, |
|
| |
I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. |
|
| |
Sleeps |
|
| |
Re–enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS |
|
| PUCK |
Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not? |
421 |
| DEMETRIUS |
Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot |
|
| |
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, |
|
| |
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. |
|
| |
Where art thou now? |
|
| PUCK |
Come hither: I am here. |
|
| DEMETRIUS |
Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, |
|
| |
If ever I thy face by daylight see: |
|
| |
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me |
|
| |
To measure out my length on this cold bed. |
|
| |
By day's approach look to be visited. |
|
| |
Lies down and sleeps. |
|
| |
Re–enter HELENA |
|
| HELENA |
O weary night, O long and tedious night, |
431 |
| |
Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, |
|
| |
That I may back to Athens by daylight, |
|
| |
From these that my poor company detest: |
|
| |
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, |
|
| |
Steal me awhile from mine own company. |
|
| |
Lies down and sleeps |
|
| PUCK |
Yet but three? Come one more; |
|
| |
Two of both kinds make up four. |
|
| |
Here she comes, curst and sad: |
|
| |
Cupid is a knavish lad, |
440 |
| |
Thus to make poor females mad. |
|
| |
Re–enter HERMIA |
|
| HERMIA |
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 |
450 |
| |
To your eye, |
|
| |
Gentle lover, remedy. |
|
| |
Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes. |
|
| |
When thou wakest, |
|
| |
Thou takest |
|
| |
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: |
460 |
| |
Jack shall have Jill; |
|
| |
Nought shall go ill; |
|
| |
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. |
|
| |
Exit |
|