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3 Fair. Hail !
180 Bot. I cry your worship’s 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?
Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Pease-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir. Mus. Mustard-seed.
192 Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like, ox beef hath dévoured many a gentleman of your house : I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you, more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed. Queen. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my bower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
06. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must doat on in extremity.
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.
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly :
06. 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? 240
Puck. I took him sleeping, --that is finish'd too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak’d, of force she must be ey’d.
Enter DEMETRIUS, and HERMIA. Ob. 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,
250 Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. Eiij
The sun was not so true unto the day,
Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I,
Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the
bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? Henceforth be never number'd among men ! 270 O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake; Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake, And hast thou kill'd 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 mispris'd mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for ought that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. 280 Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore ?
Her. A privilege, never to see me more.-
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein ;
06. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
go; look, how I go ;
Ob. Flower of this purple dye,