Four days will quickly steep themselves innight; Four nights will quickly dream away the time;And then the moon, like to a silver bow. New-bent in heaven, shall behold the nightOf our solemnities.
Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hourDraws on apace; four happy days bring inAnother moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
Thanks, good Egeus: what’s the news withthee?
I do entreat your grace to pardon me.I know not by what power I am made bold,Nor how it may concern my modesty,
So is Lysander.
I do entreat your grace to pardon me.I know not by what power I am made bold,Nor how it may concern my modesty,
Either to die the death or to abjureFor ever the society of men.Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;Know of your youth, examine well your blood,Whether, if you yield not to your father’s choice, you gonna be killed or you would be a nun.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,Unto his lordship, whose unwished yokeMy soul consents not to give sovereignty.
The day betwixt my love and me. Upon the day either prepare to die. For disobedience to your father’s will, Or else to wed Demetrius.
Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yieldThy crazed title to my certain right.