[432] Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest:
[435] And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,
[436] Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Lies down and sleeps.
[437] Puck. Yet but three? Come one more;
[438] Two of both kinds makes up four.
[439] Here she comes, curst and sad:
440 Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.