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And from each other, look, thou lead them thús;
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
Ob. But we are spirits of another sort; ..
4 Evin till the safern gate, all fiery, red,,
Opening on Neptune with FAIR BLESSED beams,
Turns into yellow gold his falt-green Areams.). The Epi. thets fair bluffed are an insipid unmeaning expletive. Shakespear, without doubt, wrote, "vini od FAB-ILESSING beens:
Eut, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay;
Puck. Up and down, up and down,
now. Puck. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art
thou ? Lys. I will be with thee straight.
Puck. Follow me then. To plainer ground. [Lyf. goes out, as following Dem.
Enter Demetrius. Dem. Lysander, speak again ; Thou run-away, thou coward, art thou Aled ? Speak in some bush: where dost thou hide thy head?
* Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Dem. Yea, art thou there?
[Exeunt. Lysander comes back. Lyf. He goes before me, and still dares me on;
i. e. whole genial rays have the most extensive influence. A corruption of the same kind we meet with in Timon,
Thou B LESS E D - BREEDING fun, which should be read,
Thou BLESSING-BREEDING fur, 3. e. who giveth blessings wherever it Things,
When I come where he calls me, then he's gone.
. [Lyes down. For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spight. .
Enter Puck and Demetrius. Puck. Ho, ho, ho, coward, why com'ft thou not?
Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'ft: for well I wot,
Puck. Come thou hither, I am here.;
S CE N E X.
Abate thy hours; shine, comforts, from the East; That I may back to Athens by day-light,
From these, that my poor company detest;
Puck. Yet but three? come one more,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briars,
My legs can keep no pace with my desires :
[Lyes down. Puck. On the ground
To your eye,
[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eye.
In the sight
[Exit Puck. (They feep.
. Аст ACTIV. SCÉN È Í.
Continued, The WOO D. Enter Queen of Fairies, Bottom, Fairies attending,
and the King behind them.
MOME, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,
Bot. Where's Peafeblossom?
Bot. Scratch my head, Peafeblossom. Where's monfieur Cobweb?
Bot. Monsieur Cobweba good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipt humblebee on the top of a thistle; and; good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret your self too much in the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care, the honey-bag break not ; I should be loth to have you over-flown with a honey-bag, signior, Where's monsieur Mustardfeed?
Bot. Give me thy 'neafe, monsieur Mustardjeed; pray you, leave your curtefie, good monsieur.
Muf. What's your will ?
Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur ; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender ass, if my hair doth but tickle me, I must scratch. i Nease (Yorkshire) for fift.