SCENE II.
Enter Oberon.
Ob.
I wonder, if Titania be awak'd;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must doat on in extremity.
Enter Puck.
Here comes my messenger.—How now, mad spirit?
What night-rule5 note
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 patches6 note
, rude mechanicals,
-- 68 --
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 7 note
nowl fixed on his head;
Anon, his Thisby must be answered,
And forth my minnock8 note
comes 9Q0288: When they him spy,
As wild geese, that the creeping fowler eye,
-- 69 --
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort9 note
,
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 stamp1 note
, 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,
-- 70 --
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong:
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
2 note
Some, sleeves; some, hats: from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment (so it came to pass)
Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass.
Ob.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd3 note
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 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,
Being o'er shoes in blood4 note, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day,
As he to me: Would he have stol'n away
-- 71 --
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon,
This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon
May through the center creep, and so displease
Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes5 note
.
It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look, so 6 note
dead, so grim.
Dem.
So should the murder'd look; and so should I,
Pierc'd 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.
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!
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 touch7 note
!
-- 72 --
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 mood8 note:
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.
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 9Q0289:
See me no more, whether he be dead, or no.
[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 9Q0290 doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
[Lies down.
Ob.
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
Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true9 note
.
Puck.
Then fate o'er-rules; that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Ob.
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 cost the fresh blood dear:
-- 73 --
By some illusion see thou bring her here;
I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear.
Puck.
I go, I go; look, how I go;
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.
[Exit.
Ob.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid's archery1 note
,
Sink in apple of his eye!
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.—
When thou wak'st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Re-enter Puck.
Puck.
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee;
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Ob.
Stand aside: the noise they make,
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
Puck.
Then will two, at once, woo one;
That must needs be sport alone:
And those things do best please me,
That befal prepost'rously.
Enter Lysander, and Helena.
Lys.
Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
-- 74 --
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true?
Hel.
You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
These vows are Hermia's; Will you give her o'er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
Lys.
I had no judgment, when to her I swore.
Hel.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
Lys.
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
Dem. [awaking.]
O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow2 note,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow,
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white3 note
, this seal of bliss4 note
!
Hel.
O spight! O hell! I see, you all are bent
To set against me, for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
-- 75 --
But you must join, in souls5 note
9Q0291, to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals to mock Helena:
-- 76 --
A trim exploit6 note
, a manly enterprize,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes,
With your derision! none, of nobler sort7 note
,
Would so offend a virgin; and extort8 note
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
Lys.
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia; this, you know, I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love, and will do to my death.
Hel.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Dem.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
9 note
My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd;
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There to remain.
Lys.
Helen, it is not so.
Dem.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. 9Q0292—
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
-- 77 --
Enter Hermia.
Her.
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the hearing double recompence:—
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. 9Q0293
But why unkindly did'st thou leave me so?
Lys.
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
Her.
What love could press Lysander from my side?
Lys.
Lysander's love, that would not let him bide,
Fair Helena; who more engilds the night
Than all yon fiery o's1 note
and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?
Her.
You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
Hel.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd, all three,
To fashion this false sport in spight of me2 note.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
-- 78 --
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,—O, and is all forgot?
All school-day friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods3 note,
Have with our 4 note
neelds created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union in partition,
Two lovely berries molded on one stem:
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
5 note
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
-- 79 --
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it;
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Her.
I am amazed at your passionate words:
I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.
Hel.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me, and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
(Who even but now did spurn me with his foot)
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection;
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate:
But miserable most, to love unlov'd?
This you should pity, rather than despise.
Her.
I understand not what you mean by this.
Hel.
Ay, do, persever6 note
, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carry'd, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
-- 80 --
You would not make me such an argument7 note
.
But, fare ye well: 'tis partly mine own fault;
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.
Lys.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
Hel.
O excellent!
Her.
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Dem.
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
Lys.
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;
Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak prayers8 note
.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do;
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false, that says I love thee not.
Dem.
I say, I love thee more than he can do.
Lys.
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Dem.
Quick, come,—
Her.
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lys.
Away, you Ethiop!
Dem.
No, no, sir, he'll
Seem to break loose; take on, as you would follow;
But yet come not: You are a tame man, go!
Lys.
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr: vile thing, let loose;
Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent.
Her.
Why are you grown so rude? what change is this,
Sweet love?
Lys.
Thy love? out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!
Her.
Do you not jest?
-- 81 --
Hel.
Yes, 'sooth; and so do you.
Lys.
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
Dem.
I would, I had your bond: for, I perceive,
A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word.
Lys.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
Her.
What, can you do me greater harm, than hate?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now, as I was erewhile.
Since night, you lov'd me; yet, since night, you left me:
Why, then you left me,—O the gods forbid!—
In earnest, shall I say?
Lys.
Ay, by my life;
And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt,
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest,
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.
Her.
O me! you jugler! oh, you canker-blossom9 note
!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night,
And stol'n my love's heart from him?
Hel.
Fine, i'faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
Her.
Puppet! why so? Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures, she hath urg'd her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
-- 82 --
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.—
And are you grown so high in his esteem,
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low,
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
Hel.
I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice;
Let her not strike me: You, perhaps, may think,
Because she's something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
Her.
Lower! hark, again.
Hel.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood:
He follow'd you; for love, I follow'd him.
But he hath chid me hence; and threaten'd me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I bear my folly back,
And follow you no further: Let me go:
You see how simple and how fond I am1 note
.
Her.
Why, get you gone: Who is't that hinders you?
Hel.
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
Her.
What, with Lysander?
Hel.
With Demetrius.
Lys.
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Dem.
No, sir; she shall not, though you take her part.
-- 83 --
Hel.
O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd:
She was a vixen, when she went to school;
And, though she be but little, she is fierce.
Her.
Little again? nothing but low and little?—
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
Lys.
Get you gone, you dwarf;
You 2 note
minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made3 note
note that knot grass “is a low reptant hearb, with
exile, copious, nodose, and geniculated branches.” Perhaps no
hypochondriack is to be found who might not derive his cure
from the perusal of any single chapter in this work.
Steevens.
;
You bead, you acorn.
Dem.
You are too officious,
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Let her alone; speak not of Helena;
Take not her part: for if thou dost intend
Never so little shew of love to her,
Thou shalt aby it4 note
9Q0294.
-- 84 --
Lys.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Or thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Dem.
Follow? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
[Exit Lysander and Demetrius.
Her.
You, mistress, all this coyl is 'long of you:
Nay, go not back.
Hel.
I will not trust you, I;
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer though, to run away.
Her.
I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. 9Q0295
[Exeunt: Hermia pursuing Helena.
Ob.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st,
Or else commit'st thy knaveries willingly5 note.
Puck.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me, I should know the man
By the Athenian garments he had on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprize,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes:
And so far am I glad it did so sort6 note
,
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Ob.
Thou seest, these lovers seek a place to fight:
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog, as black as Acheron;
And lead these testy rivals so astray,
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
-- 85 --
And sometimes rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
'Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property7 note,
To take from thence all error, with his might,
And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league, whose date 'till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
Puck.
My fairy lord, this must be done with haste;
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to church-yards: damned spirits all8 note
,
That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They wilfully themselves exile from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
Ob.
But we are spirits of another sort:
-- 86 --
I with the morning's love have oft made sport9 note
;
And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day.
[Exit Ob.
Puck.
Up and down, up and down;
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field and town;
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Enter Lysander.
Lys.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Puck.
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
Lys.
I will be with thee straight.
Puck.
Follow me then
To plainer ground.
[Lys. goes out, as following Dem.
-- 87 --
Enter Demetrius.
Dem.
Lysander! speak again.
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak. In some bush? where dost thou hide thy head1 note
?
Puck.
Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;
I'll whip thee with a rod: He is defil'd,
That draws a sword on thee.
Dem.
Yea; art thou there?
Puck.
Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here.
[Exeunt
Re-enter Lysander.
Lys.
He goes before me, and still dares me on;
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much lighter heel'd, than I:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day!
[Lies down.
For if but once thou shew me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spight.
Re-enter Puck and Demetrius.
Puck.
Ho, ho, ho! coward, why comest thou not?
Dem.
Abide me, if thou dar'st: for well I wot,
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place;
And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face.
Where art thou?
Puck.
Come hither; I am here.
-- 88 --
Dem.
Nay, then thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear2 note,
If ever I thy face by day-light see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.—
By day's approach look to be visited.
[Lies down.
Enter Helena.
Hel.
O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours; shine, comforts, from the east;
That I may back to Athens, by day-light,
From these that my poor company detest:—
And, sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me a while from mine own company.
[Sleeps.
Puck.
Yet but three? come one more;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst, and sad:—
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
Enter Hermia.
Her.
Never so weary, never so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers;
I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me, 'till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
[Lies down.
Puck.
On the ground
Sleep sound:
I'll apply
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eye.
-- 89 --
When thou wak'st,
Thou tak'st3 note
True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady's eye:
And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,
In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill4 note;
Nought shall go ill;
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
[Exit Puck.
[They sleep.
5 noteACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Wood.
Enter Queen of the Fairies, Bottom, Fairies attending, and the King behind them.
Queen.
Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy6 note
,
-- 90 --
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Bot.
Where's Pease-blossom?
Pease.
Ready.
Bot.
Scratch my head, Pease-blossom.—Where's
monsieur Cobweb?
Cob.
Ready.
Bot.
Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur, get your
weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hip'd humble
bee on the top of a thistle; and, good monsieur, bring
me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in
the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur have a
care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to
have you over-flown with a honey-bag 9Q0297, signior.—
Where's monsieur Mustard-seed?
Must.
Ready.
Bot.
Give me your neif7 note
, monsieur Mustard-seed.
Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur.
Must.
What's your will?
Bot.
Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cavalero
Cobweb8 note to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur;
for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about
the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair
do but tickle me, I must scratch.
Queen.
What, wilt thou hear some musick, my
sweet love?
Bot.
I have a reasonable good ear in musick: let us
have the tongs9 note and the bones.
-- 91 --
Queen.
Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to eat.
Bot.
Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch
your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire
to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no
fellow.
Queen.
I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
Bot.
I had rather have a handful, or two, of dried
pease. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir
me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Queen.
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away1 note
.
So doth the woodbine2 note
, the sweet honey-suckle,
-- 92 --
Gently entwist,—the female ivy3 note
so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!
-- 93 --
Oberon advances. Enter Puck.
Ob.
Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours5 note for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her:
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flouret's eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which strait she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And, now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of the Athenian swain;
That he awaking when the others do,
May all to Athens back again repair;
And think no more of this night's accidents,
-- 94 --
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen;
Be, as thou wast wont to be;
[Touching her eyes with an herb.
See, as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower6 note
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Queen.
My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought, I was enamour'd of an ass.
Ob.
There lies your love.
Queen.
How came these things to pass?
Oh, how mine eye doth loath his visage now!
Ob.
Silence, a while.—Robin, take off this head.—
Titania, musick call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense7 note
.
Queen.
Musick, ho! musick; such as charmeth sleep.
Puck.
When thou awak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.
Ob.
Sound, musick. [Still musick.] Come my
queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity;
And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
-- 95 --
And bless it to all fair8 note
posterity:
There shall these pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck.
Fairy king, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Ob.
Then my queen, in silence sad9 note
,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Queen.
Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals, on the ground.
[Exeunt.
[Wind horns within.
Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita, and train.
The.
Go, one of you, find out the forester;—
For now our observation is perform'd1 note
:
And since we have the vaward of the day,
-- 96 --
My love shall hear the musick of my hounds.—
Uncouple in the western valley; go 9Q0300:—
Dispatch, I say, and find the forester.—
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
Hip.
I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear2 note
9Q0301
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding3 note
; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
The.
My hounds are bred 9Q0302 out of the Spartan kind,
So4 note
flew'd, so 5 note
sanded, and their heads are hung
-- 97 --
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge, when you hear.—But, soft; what nymphs are these?
Ege.
My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:
I wonder at their being here together.
The.
No doubt, they rose up early, to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.—
But, speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege.
It is, my lord.
The.
Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
-- 98 --
Horns, and shout within; Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, and Helena, wake and start up.
The.
Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past6 note;
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys.
Pardon, my lord.
[They all kneel to Theseus.
The.
I pray you all, stand up.
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
Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the peril of the Athenian law.
Ege.
Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough;
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.—
They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me:
You, of your wife; and me, of my consent;
Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Dem.
My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them;
Fair Helena in fancy following me7 note
.
-- 99 --
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But by some power it is) my love to Hermia,
Melted as is the snow 9Q0303 seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd8 note,
Which in my childhood I did doat 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,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:
But, like a sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I 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 shall hear more anon.—
Egeus, I will over-bear your will;
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.—
Away, with us, to Athens: Three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.—
Come Hippolita.
[Exe. Theseus, Hippolita, and train.
Dem.
These things seem small, and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her.
Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.
-- 100 --
Hel.
So methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel9 note
,
Mine own, and not mine own. 9Q0304
Dem.
Are you sure1 note
That we are awake?—it seems to me,
That yet we sleep, we dream.—Do not you think,
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her.
Yea; and my father.
Hel.
And Hippolita.
Lys.
And he did bid us follow to the temple.
Dem.
Why then, we are awake: let's follow him;
And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.
[Exeunt.
-- 101 --
As they go out, Bottom awakes.
Bot.
When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer:
—my next is, Most fair Pyramus—Hey,
ho!—Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender!
Snout the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stol'n
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,—2 note But man is but a patch'd fool3 note,
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 call'd Bottom's Dream, because it hath no
bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play,
before the duke4 note: Peradventure, to make it the
more gracious, I shall sing it at her death5 note.
[Exit.
-- 102 --
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 marr'd; 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 handy-craft
man in Athens.
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 nought6 note
.
Enter Snug.
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 men7 note
.
Flu.
O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost six-pence
a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped
-- 103 --
six-pence a-day: an the duke had not given him six-pence
a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hang'd; he
would have deserv'd it: six-pence a-day, in Pyramus,
or nothing8 note
.
Enter Bottom.
Bot.
Where are these lads? 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 preferr'd. 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 garlick,
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; go, away.
[Exeunt.
-- 104 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
