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?
Come hither; I am here.
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.]
O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours! 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.
Yet but three? Come one more;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad: —
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
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!
On the ground
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
[Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER'S eye.]
When thou wak'st,
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 PUCK. — DEMETRIUS, HELENA &c, sleep.]