And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight:
090 Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
Some true love turn’d, and not a false turn’d true.
Puck. Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
[094] Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
095 And Helena of Athens look thou find:
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
[097] With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear:
By some illusion see thou bring her here: