[077] Obe. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
[079] Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
[080] Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! [Music, still.
[081] Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.
Obe. Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
085 And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly,