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This hateful imperfection of her eyes.

And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp

From off the head of this Athenian swain,

That he, awaking when the other do,

May all to Athens back again repair,

And think no more of this night’s accidents

But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

But first I will release the Fairy Queen.

[Touching her eyes.]

Be as thou wast wont to be;

See as thou wast wont to see.

Dian’s bud [o’er] Cupid’s flower

Hath such force and blessed power.

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

Tita.

My Oberon, what visions have I seen!

Methought I was enamor’d of an ass.

Obe.

There lies your love.

Tita.

How came these things to pass?

O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

Obe.

Silence a while. Robin, take off this head.

Titania, music call, and strike more dead

Than common sleep of all these [five] the sense.

Tita.

Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep!

[Music, still.]

Puck.

Now, when thou wak’st, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.

Obe.

Sound, music!