[1/3] Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace. Four happy days bring in another moon; but oh, methinks how slow this old moon wanes! She lingers my desires, like to a step-dame 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, stir up the Athenian youth to merriments. Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth.