ACT FOURTH

SCENE I. The Wood. DEMETRIUS, HELENA,
LYSANDER, HERMIA, lying asleep

Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM, Fairies attending;
OBERON behind unseen

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery
bed,

While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

Bot. Where 's Pease-blossom?

Peas. Ready.

Bot. Scratch my head, Pease-blossom,-where 's Monsieur Cobweb?

Cob. Ready.

Bot. Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a redhipped humble-bee, on the top of a thistle; and, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you over-flown with

J

a honey-bag, signior.-Where's Monsieur Mustardseed?

Must. Ready.

Bot. Give me your neif, Monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur.

Must. What's your will?

Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face, and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music: let's have the tongs and the bones.

[Music, Tongs, Rural Music. Tita. Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to

eat.

Bot. Truly a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great desire to a bottle of hay; good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee thence new

nuts.

Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of

dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep

come upon me.

Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my

arms.

Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away.

[Exeunt Fairies.

So doth the woodbine the sweet honey-suckle

Gently entwist; the female ivy so

Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.

O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

[They sleep.

Enter PUCK

Obe. [Advancing.] Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity:

For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her;
For she his hairy temples then had rounded.
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;

And that same dew, which sometime on the

buds

Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes,

Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
And she in mild terms begged my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes :
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain,
That, he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair,
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream :—
But first I will release the fairy queen.

[Touching her eyes with an herb.

Be, as thou wast wont to be;

See, as thou wast wont to see :

Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower

Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen ! Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought, I was enamoured of an ass.

Obe. There lies

Tita.

How came these things to pass ?

O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

Titania, music call, and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
Tita. Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep!
[Still music.

Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

[Takes off the ass's head.

And will to-morrow midnight solemnly

Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,

And bless it to all fair posterity.

There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark,
I do hear the morning lark.
Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade;
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

Obe.

Tita. Come, my lord, and in our flight