for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who
would give a bird the lie, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so?
Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:
Mine ear is much enamour'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.

129

Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours 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;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,

me;

And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep:
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so

That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!

140

Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED.

150

Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,

With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey-bags steal from the humble bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Peas. Hail, mortal!

Cob. Hail!

Moth. Hail!

Mus. Hail!

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Bot. I cry your worships mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name.

Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman ?

Peas. Peaseblossom.

170

Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir ?

Mus. Mustardseed.

Bot. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience
well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured
many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kin-
dred hath made my eyes water ere now.
I desire your
more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.

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.

១

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Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. ✓ [Exeunt.

-མ་

V

1

SCENE II. Another part of the wood.

Enter OBERON.

Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked;

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!
What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort.
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake:
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head:

Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes.

When they him spy,

As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-patted choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,

So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;

And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls;

He murder cries and help from Athens calls.

Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;

For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;

ΤΟ

20

Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. 30

I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

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 waked, of force she must be eyed.

Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS.

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 foe.

Her. Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.

If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,

Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.

The sun was not so true unto the day

40

50

As he to me: would he have stolen away

From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon

This whole earth may be bored and that the moon
May through the centre creep and so displease
Her brother's noontide with the Antipodes.

It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;

So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.

Dem. So should the murder'd look, and so should I,
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he?

Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ?

Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.

60

Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the

bounds

Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!

O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,

And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?

An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised mood:
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;

Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.

Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.

Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
Her. A privilege never to see me more.

And from thy hated presence part I so:

See me no more, whether he be dead or no.

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80

[Exit.

Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein :
Here therefore for a while I will remain.

So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow

For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,

If for his tender here I make some stay.

[Lies down and sleeps.

Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight:

Of thy misprision must perforce ensue

98

Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true.

١١

Puck. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,

A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind,

And Helena of Athens look thou find:

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,

With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear:

By some illusion see thou bring her here:

I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.