Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
[368] To take from thence all error with his might,
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
370 When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league whose date till death shall never end.
[374] Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
375 I’ll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;