Quite unconscious of the strange change that had taken place in his appearance, Bottom calmly advanced when his turn came again, but at the sight of the ass’s head all his companions shrieked and fled in terror, calling out that they were bewitched. Bottom could not imagine why they behaved in this queer fashion, and thought it was some trick to frighten him.
“I will not stir from this place, do what they can,” he said stolidly. “I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, so that they shall hear I am not afraid.”
So he began to pace up and down, singing in a very harsh, discordant manner, more like an ass’s bray than a man’s voice:
“The ousel-cock so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill——”
“What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?” cried Titania, starting up from slumber.
The charm was beginning to work, and she gazed with rapture on the curious monster.
Bottom sang on:
“The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer nay.”
“I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again,” entreated Titania. “My ear is charmed as much with your music as my eye is enthralled with your appearance. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.”