SCENE VI.
HERMIA.
Help me, Lysander, help me, do thy best,
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast:
Ay me, for pity, what a dream was here?
Lysander, speak, I almost swoon with fear;
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey:
Lysander, what remov'd? Lysander, lord!
What out of hearing, gone? no sound, no word?
Where are you, speak? alas! he is not near.
AIR.
Sweet soothing hope, whose magic-art,
Transforms our night to day,
Dispel the clouds, that wrap my heart,
With thy enliv'ning ray:
Thus when the sky, with noxious steams
Has been obscur'd a-while,
The sun darts forth his piercing beams,
And makes all nature smile.
[Exit Hermia.
