Lysander
                                                
                                                
                                                    Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood,
And to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
 
And tarry for the comfort of the day. 
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Hermia
                                                
                                                
                                                    Be it so, Lysander; find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will rest my head.
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Lysander
                                                
                                                
                                                    One turf shall serve as pillow for us both:
One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Hermia
                                                
                                                
                                                    Nay, good Lysander, for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Lysander
                                                
                                                
                                                    O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Love takes the meaning in love’s conference.
 
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit
 
So that but one heart we can make of it.
 
Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath,
 
So then two bosoms and a single troth.
 
Then by your side no bed-room me deny,
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Hermia
                                                
                                                
                                                    Lysander riddles very prettily.
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off, in human modesty:
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant, and good night, sweet friend;
Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end!
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Lysander
                                                
                                                
                                                    Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I,
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest!
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    Hermia
                                                
                                                
                                                    With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be pressed! 
                                                
                                                
                                             
                                        
                                            
                                        
                                            
                                                
                                                    
                                                
                                                
                                                    (Text edited for rehearsals by Erica Whyman)