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Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena: I wonder of their being here together. I 3o
The. No doubt they rose up early to observe
Ege. It is, my lord.
The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
[Horn and shouts within. Lysander, Demetrius, Helena, and
Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Lys. Pardon, my lord.
The. I pray you all, stand up. I4o I know you two are rival enemies: How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ?
Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking : but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here; But, as I think,+for truly would I speak, And now I do bethink me, so it is, I came with Hermia hither: our intent I5o Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, Withost the peril of the Athenian law.
Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
You of your wife and me of my consent,
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither to this wood; I 6o And I in fury hither follow'd them, Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,<But by some power it is, my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now . As the remembrance of an idle gawd Which in my childhood I did dote upon ; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, 170 Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia : But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it.
The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: Of this discourse we more will hear anon. Egeus, I will overbear your will; For in the temple, by and by, with us These couples shall eternally be knit: I8o And, for the morning now is something worn, Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. Away with us to Athens; three and three, We'll hold a feast in great Solemnity. Come, Hippolyta.
[Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.
Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. Q •
Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double.
He!. So methinks: And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, I9 o Mine own, and not mine own.
Dem. Are you sure
Her. Yea; and my father.
Dem. Why, then, we are awake: let’s follow him; And by the way let us recount our dreams. [Exeunt.
Bot. [Awaking.] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, “ Most fair Pyramus.’ Heigh-ho Peter Quince Flute, the bellows-mender . Snout, the tinker : Starveling ! God’s my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was— there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had, but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter end of the play, before the duke : peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. |Exit.
SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE’s house.
Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?
Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.
Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes not forward, doth it?
Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.
Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens. I O
Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a Sweet voice.
Flu. You must say ‘paragon’: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of naught.
Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men. Flu. O sweet bully Bottom . Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I’ll be hanged; he would have deserved it: Sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing.
Bot. Where are these lads 2 where are these hearts :
Quin. Bottom O most courageous day ! O most happy hour ! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion’s claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them Say, it is a Sweet comedy. No more words: away I go, away ! g [Exeunt.
Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. The. More strange than true: I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such Seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: N. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, IO SS Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; 2 O Or in the night, imagining some fear, & How easy is a bush supposed a bear ! Hip. But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together,