Sometimes I lurk in the bowl of a gossipy old woman, and when she drinks I bob up like an apple against her lips and make her spill beer all over her wrinkled neck. A wise old woman telling sad stories sometimes thinks I’m a tripod stool, and when I slip out from under her, she falls down, cries “ouch!” and starts coughing. Then all the women put their hands on their hips and laugh, and sneeze, and swear it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened. It’s not so great to see you, haughty Titania. What do you want, jealous Oberon? Fairies, let’sleave. I have sworn off Oberon and I’ll never sleep with him. But I know you’ve slipped away from fairyland, pretended to be Corin the shepherd, and played love songs on corn pipes to Phillida, the Thracian king’s daughter. Why have you come here from the farthest mountains of India? The only reason is that your Amazonian warrior mistress Hippolyta is getting married to Theseus, and you’ve come to bless their marriage.
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