| Set your heart at rest: | The fairy land buys not the child of me. |
| His mother was a votaress of my order: | And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, |
| Full often hath she gossip’d by my side, | And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands, |
| Marking the embarked traders on the flood, | When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive |
| And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; | Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait |
| Following,–her womb then rich with my young squire,– | Would imitate, and sail upon the land, |
| To fetch me trifles, and return again, | As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. |
| But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; | And for her sake do I rear up her boy, |
| And for her sake I will not part with him. | … |
Titania Monologue: A Midsummer Night’s Dream
July 6, 2019