_Bot._ Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your 10 weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a 15 honey-bag, signior. Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed. _Mus._ Ready. _Bot._ Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. _Mus._ What’s your will? 20 _Bot._ Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s, mounsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. _Tita._ What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? 25 _Bot._ I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s have the tongs and the bones. _Tita._ Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. _Bot._ Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle 30 of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. _Tita._ I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. _Bot._ I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an 35 exposition of sleep come upon me. _Tita._ Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. [_Exeunt Fairies._ So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so 40 Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [_They sleep._ _Enter_ PUCK.