Snug. Mayhap in this strange part of the world ’twould be thought matter for a hanging, and that were, indeed, a most serious business, to my thinking.
Quince. But an’ we talk of ladies and hangings, moreover, hither comes a monstrous little lady, as ’twere on the instant.
Enter Titania, with her train.
Titania. Where stays the gentle mortal I adore,
Whose voice unto mine ear makes harmonies
Celestial, and whose amiable face
Enthralls my heart in loving servitude?
Peaseblossom. Yonder he bides.
Moth. ’Mong others of his kind.
Cobweb. Alike, yet different.