1 Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll.
2 You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
3 He goes before me, and still dares me on; When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
4 Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
5 FAIRY Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite Call'd Robin Goodfellow.
6 Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
7 When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So at his sight away his fellows fly, And at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.