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Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here;

Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence !
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.

Philomel, with melody, &c.
A Fairy. Hence, away! now all is well:
One aloof stand sentinel.

[Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps Enter OBERON, and squeezes the flower on Titania's eyelids. Obe. What thou seest when thou dost wake,

Do it for thy true-love take,
Love and languish for his sake:
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,

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Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
Wake when some vile thing is near. [Exit.

Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA.
Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;

And to speak troth, 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;

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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:
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off; in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!

Lys. 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 press’d!

[They sleep.
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.
Night and silence.—Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul ! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
When thou wakest, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon.

[Exit.

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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 thou darkling leave me? do not so.
Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. [Exit.

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;

90 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. | No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander! on the ground !

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Dead ? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
Lys. [Awaking.] And run through fire I will for thy sweet

sake.
Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? (), how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword !

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.

I1O Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia 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,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.

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But fare you well: perforce I must confess
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady, of one man refused,
Should of another therefore be abused!

[Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there : And never mayst thou come Lysander near! For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight!

[Exit. Eer. [Awaking.] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy

best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear :
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.

150 Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?

140

Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No? then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Either death or you I'll find immediately.

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The wood. Titania lying asleep.

Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and

STARVELING.

STARVEL 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 tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke.

Bot. Peter Quince, -
Quin. What sayest 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’r lakin, a parlous fear.

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.

II

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