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The.

No doubt they rose up early to observe

The rite of May; and hearing our intent,

Came here in grace of our solemnity.

But speak, Egeus, is not this the day

That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

Ege.

It is, my lord.

The.

Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.

[Exit an Attendant] Shout within. Wind horns. They all start up.

Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past;

Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

Lys.

Pardon, my lord.

[They kneel.]

The.

I pray you all, stand up.

I know you two are rival enemies.

How comes this gentle concord in the world,

That hatred is so far from jealousy

To sleep by hate and fear no enmity?

Lys.

My lord, I shall reply amazedly,

Half sleep, half waking; but, as yet, I swear,

I cannot truly say how I came here.

But, as I think—for truly would I speak,

And now I do bethink me, so it is—

I came with Hermia hither. Our intent

Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,

Without the peril of the Athenian law—

Ege.

Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough.