Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here,
[415] While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
[420] And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent’s tongue,