BOTTOM. ’Tis but likely. I was ever a choice feeder. But, masters, was there not some matter toward, or have you assembled yourselves but to greet me, and, as ’twere, fittingly? QUINCE. You speak quite to the matter, good Bottom. That is indeed the true end of our beginning. To behold your winsome visage in this unwonted place is great joy to us simple mechanicals, yet we be nevertheless bold to proclaim to you that to shave were not amiss to one of your condition. For but bethink you, and you were to come amongst ladies thus grievously beset with hair would shame us all. SNUG. Mayhap in this strange part of the world ’twould be thought matter for a hanging, and that were, indeed, a most serious business, to my thinking. QUINCE. But an’ we talk of ladies and hangings, moreover, hither comes a monstrous little lady, as ’twere on the instant. _Enter_ TITANIA, _with her train_. TITANIA. Where stays the gentle mortal I adore, Whose voice unto mine ear makes harmonies Celestial, and whose amiable face Enthralls my heart in loving servitude? PEASEBLOSSOM. Yonder he bides. MOTH. ’Mong others of his kind. COBWEB. Alike, yet different. MUSTARDSEED. Chief mortal seen. TITANIA [_espying_ BOTTOM] What angel can compare unto my love? Beauty itself, beholding thee, might swoon For envy, and the eldest sage would yield His place to thee on th’ instant. O my love! [_Winds her arms about his neck._ Thou shalt dwell with me ever. Oberon To thee is but a gaping pig, and thou To him the nonpareil of beauteous youth. BOTTOM. Good mistress atomy, though you show somewhat spare of flesh you are yet of a right comely countenance (and mine eyes do tell me aught without spectacles), and you can speak to the point upon occasion, as the present moment doth signify most auspiciously. TITANIA. O I could list unto thy silver tongue Till Time itself wax’d eld and perished. BOTTOM. How say you, masters? Hath not mistress atomy a shrewd manner of observation an’ she singles me out from the company of my fellows thus compellingly? QUINCE. O bully Bottom, you are, as I take it, the simple wonder of our age. ALL. Right, master Quince. Nick Bottom is become a very marvel. TITANIA. Fain would I hear thy heavenly note again. Sing, wondrous mortal, while I link mine arms About thy peerless form, or garlands twine Of dewy flowers to hang about thy neck, That neck, of all necks most incomparable. BOTTOM [_sings_] Upon the hay Cophetua Did waste the hours in sighing. The beggar maid Unto him said, Good sir, are you a dying?