The wood. Titania lying asleep.
What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen? What, a play toward! I’ll be an auditor; An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
—odours savours sweet: So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. Exit.
Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb.