[099] I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear.
[100] Puck. I go, I go; look how I go,
[101] Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. [Exit.
Obe.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
105 When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.