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With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:
there, Troop home to churchyards ; damnéd 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 wilfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-browed night.
Obe. But we are spirits of another sort.
I with the morning's love have oft made sport;
I will lead them up and down :
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak
Where art thou ?
Follow me then To plainer ground.
[Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice.
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
I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defiled,
Yea; art thou there? Puck. Follow
my voice: we'll try no manhood here.
(Exeunt. Re-enter LYSANDER goes before
and still dares me on; When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heeled than I : I followed 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, hol Coward, why com’st
Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot, Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now? Puck.
Come hither : I am here. Dem. Nay, then, thou mock’st me. Thou shalt
buy this dear,
[Lies down and sleeps.
Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours : shine, comforts, from the east, That I may back to Athens, by day-light, From these that my poor company
detest. And sleep that sometimes shuts up
sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
[Sleeps Puck. Yet but three ? Come one more ; Two of both kinds make
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. Heaven shield Lysander if they mean a fray !
[Lies down. Puck. On the ground
[Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eye
In the sight
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;
And all shall be well. [Exit PUCK