And to speak truth, I have forgot our way; We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good," And tarry for the comfort of the day. Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed, For I upon this bank will rest my head. Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth. Her. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence; Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit, So that but one heart we can make of it: Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. Then, by your side no bed-room me deny ; For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. : Her. Lysander riddles very prettily So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend: Enter Puck. Puck. Through the forest have I gone, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, All the power this charin doth owe : [Exit. Enter Demetrius and Helena, running. Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. Hel. O, wilt thon darkling2 leave me? do not so. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: sake. Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet [Waking. Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. (1) Possess. (2) In the dark. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. Who will not change a raven for a dove? Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well: perforce I must confess, I thought you lord of more true gentleness. Should, of another, therefore be abus'd! [Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia :-Hermia, sleep thou there; And never mays't thou come Lysander near! For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings; And all my powers, address your love and might, To honour Helen, and to be her knight! [Exit. Her. [Starting.] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best, To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! ACT III. SCENE 1.-The same. The queen of fairies lying asleep. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Starveling. Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal: this green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tyring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke. Bot. Peter Quince, Quin. What say'st thou, bully Bottom? Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? Snout. By'rlakin,2 a parlous3 fear. Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done. (1) By all that is dear. (2) By our ladykin. (3) Dangerous. Bot. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue: and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords; and that Pyramus is not killed indeed: and, for the more better assurance, tell them, that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear. Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six. Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? Star. I fear it, I promise you. Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in, God shield us! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living; and we ought to look to it. Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not a lion. Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect, Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat you, not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. It you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are:-and there, indeed, let him name his name; and tell them plainly, he is Snug the joiner. Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber: for you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moon-light. Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we play our play? Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine |