PUCK.
I go, I go; look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.
[Exit.]
OBERON.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.—
When thou wak’st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Puck.
PUCK.
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover’s fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
OBERON.
Stand aside. The noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
PUCK.
Then will two at once woo one.
That must needs be sport alone;
And those things do best please me
That befall prepost’rously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
LYSANDER.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
HELENA.
You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
These vows are Hermia’s: will you give her o’er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.