Enter Lysander and Hermia.
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 interchained 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.
