_The._ More strange than true: I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 5 More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, 10 Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen 15 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; 20 Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! _Hip._ But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy’s images, 25 And grows to something of great constancy; But, howsoever, strange and admirable. _The._ Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. _Enter_ LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, _and_ HELENA. Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts! _Lys._ More than to us 30 Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! _The._ Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bed-time? Where is our usual manager of mirth? 35 What revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. _Phil._ Here, mighty Theseus. _The._ Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque? what music? How shall we beguile 40 The lazy time, if not with some delight? _Phil._ There is a brief how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your highness will see first. [_Giving a paper._