SCENE I. ACT I. Athens. The palace of THESEus. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hourDraws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; ΙΟ B Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth: Turn melancholy forth to funerals; The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Exit Philostrate. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph and with revelling. Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS. 20 Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair maid: One that composed your beauties, yea, and one 30 40 To whom you are but as a form in wax Her. So is Lysander. But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, 50 Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes. The. Either to die the death or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, 60 further Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Apple to But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 80 Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. The. Take time to pause; and, by the next new moonThe sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For everlasting bond of fellowship— For aye austerity and single life. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, I do estate unto Demetrius. Lys. I am, my lord, as well derived as he, As well possess'd; my love is more than his; My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: Why should not I then prosecute my right? Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess that I have heard so much, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; 90 100 ΙΙΟ 120 |