Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars, I can no further crawle, no further goe; My legs can keepe no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the breake of day, Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray Rob. On the ground sleepe sound, Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy. When thou wak'st, thou tak'st True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye, And the Country Prouerb knowne, That euery man should take his owne, In your waking shall be showne. Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill. The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee well. They sleepe all the Act. Actus Quartus. Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them. Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed, While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy, And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head, And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy Clow. Where's Peaseblossome? Peas. Ready Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer Cobweb Cob. Ready Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur Mus. What's your will? Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet loue Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let vs haue the tongs and the bones. Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke. Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy, That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard, And fetch thee new Nuts Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms, Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away. So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle, Gently entwist; the female Iuy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme. O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee! Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.