Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. Horns and shout within. Lysander , Demetrius , Helena , and Hermia , wake and start up. Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past: Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

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?