Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Lys. Then by your side, no bed‑roome me deny,
Lys. For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye.
Her. Her.
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;
Her. Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
Her. If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.
Her. But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie
Her. Lie further off, in humane modesty,
Her. Such separation, as may well be said,
Her. Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,
Her. So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;
Her. Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end.
Lys. Lys.
Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I,
Lys. And then end life, when I end loyalty:
Lys. Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest.
Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest.
Her. Enter Pucke.
Her. They sleepe.