Page:A Midsummer-Nights Dream (Rackham).djvu/145

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O weary night, O long and tedious night,

Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,

That I may back to Athens by daylight,

From these that my poor company detest:

And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,

Steal me awhile from mine own company.

Yet but three? Come one more;

Two of both kinds makes up four.

Here she comes, curst and sad:

Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Never so weary, never so in woe,

Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,

I can no further crawl, no further go;

My legs can keep no pace with my desires.

Here will I rest me till the break of day.

Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!