Hit with cupid's archery,
Sink in apple of her eye!
When her lord she doth espy,
Let him shine as gloriously
As the Phoebus of the sky.
When thou wak'st, if he be by,
Beg of him for remedy. [Exit Fairy.

Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen.

Queen. My Oberon! What visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of a mortal.

Ob. There lies your love.

Queen. How came these things to pass?
O how mine eyes do loath this visage now!

Ob. Silence awhile. Robin, remove the man,
And you mean while, Titania, music call,
And strike more dead than common deep his senses.

Queen. Musick, ho, musick! such as charmeth sleep.

AIR.

2d Fai. Orpheus, with his lute, made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing,
To his musick, plants and flowers