Obe. For she his hairy temples then hath rounded With coronets of fresh and fragrant flowers.

Her.

-We must starve our sight
From lover's food, 'till morrow deep midnight.

Tita.

Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices, and let me rest.

Puck. I go; I go; look, how I go;
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.

Tità. So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist :-the female ivy so

Enrings the barky film of the elm.

Oh, how I love thee! how I doat on thee!

Act IV. Scene I.

Pyr. I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face-
Thisby !

This. My love! thou art my love, I think.

Act V. Scene I.