The sky was dark above
the tapering trees, but here in the secret woods light seemed to cling
in flake and scarf. And it so chanced as our two noses leaned forward
into his retreat that Bottom's head lolled back upon its pillow, and
his bright, simple eyes stared deep into our own.
"Save me, ye shapes of nought," he bellowed, "no more, no more, for
love's sake. I begin to see what men call red Beelzebub, and that's an
end to all true fellowship. Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, Signior
Cobweb, I beseech you--a little fiery devil with four eyes floats in
my brain, and flame's a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! avaunt ye! Would now
my true friend Bottom the weaver were at my side. His was a courage
to make princes great. Prithee, Queen Tittany, no more such cozening
possets!"
I drew Rosinante back into the leaves.
"Droop now thy honeyed lids, my dearest love!" I heard a clear voice
answer. "There's nought can harm thee in these silvered woods: no bird
that pipes but love incites his throat, and never a dewdrop wells but
whispers peace!"
"Ay, ay, 'tis very well, you have a gift, you have a gift, Tittany's
for twisting words to sugarsticks.
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