Our feast of reconcilement—shall it be
That our first act, united, is revenge?
Is not this Boy as beauteous as a Child
Of Fairy-land? Shall we misuse the power
That we are gifted with, to work him ill?
Nay—how much better, how much nobler 'twere,
Worthier of spirits good, our might t'employ,
For good alone. Is not the feeling sweet,
Unspeakably, when we may furtherers be
Of happiness, to any? Is it not
This same most holy feeling, that makes men
Grow to resemble gods? Then, Oberon,
My Lord—my love—yield to my pleading now;
Let us, instead of harming, send him hence
Enriched with blessings.
OBERON.
Yet, thou know'st thyself
How strict the laws are of our Spirit-realm;
This bold intruder, who ...
