To make my small elves coats; and fome, keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders
At our quaint 'fpirits: Sing me now afleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
You spotted fnakes, with double tongue,
Thorny bedge-bogs, be not feen;
Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong ;
Come not near our fairy queen:
Singing her fweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:
Never harm, nor fpell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
Ob. What thou feeft, when thou doft wake,
Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;
And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We'll reft us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be it fo, Lyfander: find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will reft my head.
Lyf. One turf fhall ferve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bofoms, and one troth.
Her. Nay, good Lyfander; for my fake, my dear,
Lye further off yet, do not lye fo near.
Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence;
• Love take 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 bofoms interchained with an oath ;
So then, two bofoms, and a single troth.
Then, by your fide no bed-room me deny;
For, lying fo, Hermia, I do not lie.
Her. Lyfander, riddles very prettily:
Bounce,]-panther, or tiger-cat.
• Love take]-Let love take-Love takes.
Now much befhrew my manners, and my pride,
If Hermia meant to fay, Lyfander ly'd.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lye further off: in human modesty
Such feparation, as, may well be faid,
Becomes a virtuous batchelor and a maid:
So far be diftant; and good night, fweet friend:
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy fweet life end!
Lyf. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life, when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: Sleep give thee all his rest!
Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be prefs'd!
Puck. Through the forest have I
gone,
But Athenian found I none,
On whofe eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and filence! who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, fleeping found,
On the dank and dirty ground,
Pretty foul! fhe durft not lye
Near this lack-love, this kill-court'fy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth 'owe:
When thou wak'ft, let love forbid
Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid.
So awake, when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon.
much befbrew]-ill befall. S we contains.
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, fweet Demetrius.
Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O, wilt thou 'darkling leave me? do not fo.
Dem. Stay on thy peril; I alone will
[Exit Demetrius.
Hel. O, I am out of breath, in this fond chace!
The more my prayer, "the leffer is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er fhe lies;
For fhe hath bleffed, and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes fo bright? Not with falt tears:
If so, my eyes are oftner wash'd than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
For beafts, that meet me, run away for fear:
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my prefence thus.
What wicked and diffembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's "fphery eyne?-
But who is here? Lyfander! on the ground!
Dead? or asleep? I fee no blood, no wound :-
Lyfander, if you live, good fir, awake.
Lyf. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet fake.
[Waking.
Tranfparent Helena! Nature here fhews art,
That through thy bofom makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perifh on my sword!
Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander; fay not fo:
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia ftill loves you: then be content.
the leffer is my grace.]—the lefs favourably am I received.
Sphery øyne ?]-eyes bright as the stars.
Lyf. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia now, 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 fays, you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their feafon;
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marshall to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's ftories, written in love's richest book.
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When, at your hands, did I deserve this fcorn?
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 muft flout my insufficiency?
you
Good troth, you do me wrong, good footh, you do,
In fuch difdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well: perforce I must confefs,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
Oh, that a lady, of one man refus'd,
Should, of another, therefore be abus'd!
Lyf. She fees not Hermia :-Hermia, fleep thou there;
And never may'st thou come Lyfander near!
For, as a furfeit of the sweetest things,
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings;
Or, as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
touching now the point of human fkill, &c.]-my fenfes being arrived at their full perfection, my will now follows reafon.
z gentleness.]-generofity, poffeffed more of the fpirit of a gentle
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