Re-enter Hermia.
[442] Her. Never so weary, never so in woe;
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers;
I can no further crawl, no further go;
445 My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
[447] Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies down and sleeps.
Puck.
On the ground
[449] Sleep sound: