PETER
Tut, dun’s the mouse, the constable’s own word:
If thou art dun, we’ll draw thee from the mire
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick’st
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
JASON
'tis no wit to go PETER
Why, may one ask?
JASON
I dream’d a dream to-night
PETER
And so did I JASON
Well, what was yours?
PETER
That dreamers often lie
JASON
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true
PETER
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you
She is the fairies' midwife
Her traces of the smallest spider web
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid
In this state she gallops night by night
Ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream
Then he dreams of another benefice
Sometimes she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck
And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again
This is she, this is she
JASON
Peace, Mercutio, peace
Thou talk’st of nothing
PETER
Are you okay?
JASON
I’ll be fine…
PETER
God, Jason, you’re flying !
GIRL
Guys, come on !