The tall, High King of Faerie levitated onto the air. A dramatic air glimmered and glistened on his long, blonde hair and fair skin. He flew his way onto the roof of a blossoming tulip as his fairy-servant, Puck flew towards him with the Flower juice — otherwise known as Amortentia— to give to him. Oberon's eyes glinted with amusement and a hint of mischief. "That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once: The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again Ere the leviathan can swim a league."

Oberon retrieved the flower juice. Upon hearing the rustle of the grass upon the moon that beseeched upon the shimmering lake, turned his head towards the unidentified creature.

"Hast thou the flower I see? I pray thee, name yourself to me."