OBERON.
But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the morning’s love have oft made sport;
And, like a forester, the groves may tread
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessèd beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay.
We may effect this business yet ere day.
[Exit Oberon.]
PUCK.
Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down.
I am fear’d in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Enter Lysander.
LYSANDER.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.
PUCK.
Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?
LYSANDER.
I will be with thee straight.
PUCK.
Follow me then to plainer ground.
[Exit Lysander as following the voice.]
Enter Demetrius.