Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue
Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true

Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
A million faile, confounding oath on oath

Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,
And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.
All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere,
With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare.
By some illusion see thou bring her heere,
Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare

Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.
Enter.

Ob. Flower of this purple die,
Hit with Cupids archery,
Sinke in apple of his eye,
When his loue he doth espie,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Pucke.

Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
Helena is heere at hand,
And the youth, mistooke by me,