on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, th thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. re the winds, piping to us in vain, wenge, have suck'd up from the sea ous fogs; which falling in the land, very pelting' river made so proud, ey have overborne their continents: hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard: The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And crows are fatted with the murrain flock; The nine men's morris' is fill'd up with mud; And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, For lack of tread, are undistinguishable : The human mortals want their winter here; No night is now with hymn or carol blest:Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound: And thorough this distemperature, we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set: The spring, the summer, Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in you: I do but beg a little changeling boy, Tita. Would imitate; and sail upon the land, [Exeunt TITANIA, and her train. Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this Obe. That very time I saw, but thou could'st 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 loos'd 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 wat'ry moon; And the imperial vot'ress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower,- Obe. Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him. Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: Leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you. Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather, do I not in plainest truth Tell you-I do not, nor I cannot love you? Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me. strike me, Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, Unworthy as I am, to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love, (And yet a place of high respect with me,) Than to be used as you use your dog? Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; For I am sick, when I do look on thee. Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. Dem. You do impeach your modesty too much, To leave the city, and commit yourself • Bring in question. * Raving mad. Into the hands of one that loves you not; Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that. When all the world is here to look on me? Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd; Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger: Bootless speed! When cowardice pursues, and valor flies. Dem. I will not stay thy questions: let me go: Or, if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fye, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex! We cannot fight for love, as men may do; We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well. [Exeunt DEM. and HEL. Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. Re-enter PuсK. Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do [Exeunt. so. SCENE III-Another part of the Wood. Enter TITANIA, with her train. Tita. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some, war with rear-mice' for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats; and, some, keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits: Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices, and let me rest. By. 1 The greater cowslip 2 Vigorous. A kind of dance. 4 Bats. 1 Fai. Hence, away: now all is well: One, aloof, stand sentinel. [Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps. Enter OBERON. Obe. What thou seest, when thou dost wake, [Squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eye-lids. Do it for thy true love take; Love and languish for his sake: Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard, or boar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wak'st, it is thy dear; Wake, when some vile thing is near. Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA. Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; [Exit. 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, So then, two bosoms, and a single troth. Her. Lysander riddles very prettily:- Enter PUCK. Puck. Through the forest have I gone, But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. The small tiger. Sports. • Efts. Slow-worms. Night and silence! who is here? And here the maiden, sleeping sound, All the power this charm doth owe: [Exit. Lys. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Herraia, but Helena I love: Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of man is by his reason sway'd; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season: So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will, And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook Love's stories written in love's richest book. Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth you do, Hel. O, wilt thou darkling' leave me? do not In such disdainful manner me to woo. Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running. Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. 80. Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go. [Exit DEMETRIUS. Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. For beasts that meet me, run away for fear: Hel. Do not say so, Lysander: say not so: What though he love your Hermia! Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. But fare you well: perforce I must confess, [Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia:-Hermia, sleep thou there; And never may'st thou come Lysander near! Her. [Starting.] Help me, Lysander! help me! do thy best, To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! ACT III. Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done. 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 By all that is dear. K 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. If y f 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. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. Bot. Why, then you may leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the casement. Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say, he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of moon-shine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chinks of a wall. Snug. You never can bring in a wall.-What say you, Bottom? Bot. Some man or other must present wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; or let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every one according to his cue. Enter Puck behind. speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all.-Pyramus, enter; your cue is past; it is, never tire. Re-enter PUCK and Воттом with an Ass's head. This. O,-As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. Pyr. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine:Pray, masters! fly, masters! help! Quin. O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. [Exeunt Clowns. Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, through brier; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; [Exit. of them, to make me afeard. Bot. Why do they run away? this is a knavery Re-enter SNOUT. Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? [Exit. Bot. What do you see? you see an ass's head of your own; Do you? Re-enter QUINCE. Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit. Bot. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. The ousel cock, so black of hue, [Sings. Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swag cuckoo, never so? gering here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen? Quin. Speak, Pyramus:-Thisby, stand forth. Pyr. -odors savors sweet: So doth thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But, hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here! [Aside.-Exit. This. Must I speak now? Quin. Ay, marry, must you: for you must understand, he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. This. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of color like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. Quin. Ninus' tomb, man: Why you must not • Young man. Thicket. Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamor'd of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: And yet, to say the truth, reason The more the pity, that some honest neighbors and love keep little company together now-a-days: will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek' upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate: The summer still doth tend upon my state, The last words of the preceding speech, which serve as a hint to him who is to speak next. 1 Joke. ון And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep: | And forth my mimic comes: When they him spy, 1 Fai. Ready. 2 Fai. 3 Fai. 4 Fai. And I. •And I. Where shall we go? And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, Mus. Mustard-seed. Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like oxbeef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed. Tita. Come wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another part of the Wood. Enter OBERON. Obe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. Enter Puck. Here comes my messenger.-How now, mad spirit? As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, strong, I led them on in this distracted fear, Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch'd' the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? Puck. I took him sleeping,-that is finish'd too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey❜d. Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foc. Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse; The sun was not so true unto the day, Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I, Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Her. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. |