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Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, [Philostrate,] with others.
Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws apace. Four happy days bring in Another moon; but O methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, Like a stepdame or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
Four days will quickly steep themselves in night, Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities.
Go, Philostrate, Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth, Turn melancholy forth to funerals; The pale companion is not for our pomp.
[Exit Philostrate]
Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword, And won thy love doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.
Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, and Lysander and Demetrius.