Her.

My good Lysander!

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;

By his best arrow with the golden head;
By the simplicity of Venus' doves ;

By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves;
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,
When the false Trojan under sail was seen;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke ;-
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.

Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes
Helena.

Enter HELENA.

Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away ? Hei. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair. Your eyes are lode-stars; 1

air

O happy fair!

and your tongue's sweet

More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favor? so!
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go ;

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,3
The rest I'll give to be to you translated.

1 Pole-stars. 2 Feature, countenance. 3 Excepted.

O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles
such skill!

Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection

move!

Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine,
Hel. None, but your beauty. Would that fault
were mine!

Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my

face;

Lysander and myself will fly this place.—

Before the time I did Lysander see,

Seem'd Athens like a paradise to me :

O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell!

Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal)
Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet;
There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
And thence, from Athens turn away our eyes,

l'o seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius !-
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight.

[Exit Her.
Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu :
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Exit Lys.
Hel. How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so ;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.

Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind :
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste :
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
As waggish boys in game 1 themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where :
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.

I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: 1
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The same. A room in a cottage.

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

STARVELING.

Quince. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.

Quince. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.

Quince. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth

It will cost him much, be a severe constraint on his feelings.

your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.

Quince. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the

weaver.

Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quince. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py

ramus.

Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quince. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes: I will move storms; I will condole in some measure. To the rest. Yet my chief humor is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.

The raging rocks,

With shivering shocks,

Shall break the locks

Of prison-gates:

And Phibbus' car

Shall shine from far,

And make and mar

The foolish fates.'

This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the players. -This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is

more condoling.

Quince. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.

Flute. Here, Peter Quince.

Quince. You must take Thisby on you.