Puck.
How now, spirit! whither wander you?

Fai.

Over hill, over dale,
  Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
  Thorough flood, thorough ^note fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere ^note;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs ^note upon the green.

The cowslips tall ^note her pensioners be:
In their gold coats ^note spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here ^note,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

Puck.
The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling:
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy:
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
But they do square ^note, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.

Fai.
Either ^note I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite ^note
Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you ^note he
That frights ^note the maidens of the villagery ^note;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead ^note night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:

Are not you he?

Puck.
Thou ^note speak'st ^note aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly ^note foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her wither'd dewlap ^note pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And ‘tailor ^note’ cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh ^note;
And waxen ^note in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But, room ^note, fairy ^note! here ^note comes Oberon.

Fai.
And here my mistress. Would that he ^note were gone! ^noteEnter ^note, from one side, Oberon, with his train; from the other, Titania, with hers.

Obe.
Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.

Tita.
What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip ^note hence:
I have forsworn his bed and company.

Obe.
Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?

Tita.
Then I must be thy lady: but I know

When thou hast ^note stolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steppe ^note of India?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity.

Obe.
How canst thou thus for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering ^note night
From Perigenia ^note, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair Ægle ^note break his faith,
With Ariadne and Antiopa ^note?

Tita.
These are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since the ^note middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in ^note the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land,
Have ^note every pelting ^note river made so proud,
That they have overborne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his ^note youth attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion ^note flock;

The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud;
And the quaint mazes in ^note the wanton green,
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable:
The human mortals want their winter here ^note; ^note
No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough ^note this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary ^note-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hiems' thin ^note and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer,
The childing ^note autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed ^note world,
By their increase ^note, now knows not which is which: ^note
And this same progeny of evils comes ^note
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.

Obe.
Do you amend it, then; it lies in you:
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.

Tita.
Set your heart at rest:
The fairy ^note land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress ^note of my order:

And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on ^note the flood;
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,—her womb then rich ^note with my young squire,— ^note
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I ^note rear up her boy;
And for her sake I will not part with him.

Obe.
How long within this wood intend you stay?

Tita.
Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day.
If you will patiently dance in our round,
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.

Obe.
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.

Tita.
Not for thy fairy ^note kingdom. Fairies ^note, away!
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Exit Titania with her train.

Obe.
Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
Since once ^note I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music.

Puck.
I remember.

Obe.
That very time I saw ^note, but thou couldst not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd ^note: a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal throned by the ^note west,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should ^note pierce a hundred thousand hearts:
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench'd ^note in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
And the imperial votaress ^note passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees ^note.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.

Puck.
I'll ^note put a girdle round ^note about the earth
In forty minutes. [Exit.

Obe.
Having once this juice,
I'll watch Titania when ^note she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.
The next thing then ^note she waking looks upon,
Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
On meddling ^note monkey, or on busy ape,
She shall pursue it with the soul of love:
And ere I take this charm from off ^note her sight,
As I can take it with another herb,

I'll make her render up her page to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference. ^noteEnter Demetrius, Helena following him.

Dem.
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth ^note me.
Thou told'st me they were stolen unto ^note this wood;
And here am I, and wode within this wood ^note,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Hel.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel: leave you ^note your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.

Dem.
Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you, I do not nor ^note I cannot love you?

Hel.
And even for that do I love you ^note the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose ^note me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can ^note I beg in your love,—
And yet a place of high respect with me,—
Than to be used as you use ^note your dog?

Dem.
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.

Hel.
And I am sick when I look not on you.

Dem.
You do impeach your modesty too much,

To leave the city, and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night
And the ill counsel of a desert place
With the rich worth of your virginity.

Hel.
Your virtue is my privilege: for that
It is ^note not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world:
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is here to look on me?

Dem.
I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

Hel.
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be changed:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.

Dem.
I will not stay thy questions ^note; let me go:
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.

Hel.
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field ^note,
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo. [Exit Dem ^note.
I'll ^note follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well. [Exit. ^{note note}

Obe.
Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.

Re-enter Puck ^note.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer ^note.

Puck.
Ay, there it is.

Obe.
I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank where ^note the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips ^note and the nodding violet ^note grows;
Quite ^note over-canopied ^note with luscious ^note woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime ^note of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers ^note with ^note dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap ^note a fairy in: ^note
And ^note with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady: thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care that he may prove
More fond on ^note her than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.

Puck.
Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. [Exeunt. ^note

^note SCENE II. [Footnote: Another part of the wood. Enter Titania, with her train.

Tita.
Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
Then, for ^note the third part of a minute ^note, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits ^note. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.

Song. Fir. Fairy. ^note
You spotted snakes with double tongue.
  Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
  Come not near our fairy queen. CHORUS. ^note
  Philomel, with melody
  Sing in our ^note sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:
    Never harm,
    Nor spell, nor charm,
  Come our lovely lady nigh;
  So, good night, with lullaby. Fir. Fairy. ^note
Weaving spiders, come not here;
  Hence, you long-legg'd spinners ^note, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
  Worm nor snail, do no offence. CHORUS. ^note
  Philomel, with melody, &c.

Sec. Fairy. ^note
Hence, away! now all is well:
  One aloof stand sentinel. [Exeunt Fairies. ^note Titania sleeps. ^note Enter Oberon, and squeezes the flower on Titania's eyelids. ^note

Obe.
What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take;
Love and languish for his sake:
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that ^note shall appear
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
Wake when some vile thing is near. [Exit. ^{note note}Enter Lysander and Hermia.

Lys.
Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood ^note;
  And to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
  And tarry for the comfort ^note of the day.

Her.
Be it ^note so, Lysander: find you out a bed;
For I upon this bank will rest my head.

Lys.
One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.

Her.
Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.

Lys.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Love takes ^note the meaning in love's conference ^{note note}.
I mean, that my heart unto yours is ^note knit,
So that but one heart we can ^note make of it:

Two bosoms interchained ^note with an oath;
So then two bosoms and a single troth.
Then by your side no bed-room me deny;
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.

Her.
Lysander riddles very prettily:
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off; in human ^note modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!

Lys.
Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest!

Her.
With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! [They sleep. ^note Enter Puck.

Puck.
Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found ^note I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and silence.—Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy ^note.

Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
When thou wakest, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. ^noteEnter Demetrius and Helena, running.

Hel.
Stay ^note, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.

Dem.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

Hel.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.

Dem.
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. [Exit. ^note

Hel.
O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:
If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
Therefore no marvel ^note though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander! ^note on the ground!
Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

Lys. [Awaking]
And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena ^note! Nature shows ^note art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart ^note.

Where is ^note Demetrius? O, how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

Hel.
Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.

Lys.
Content with Hermia! No; I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia but Helena I love ^note:
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd;
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season:
So I, being young, till now ripe not ^note to reason;
And touching now the point of human ^note skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's stories ^note, written in love's richest book.

Hel.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' ^note eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well: perforce I must confess
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady, of one man refused,
Should of another therefore be abused! [Exit.

Lys.
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there:
And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach ^note brings,

Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they ^note did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!
And, all my powers, address your ^note love and might
To honour Helen and to be her knight! [Exit.

Her. [Awaking]
Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
Ay me ^note, for pity! what a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear:
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you ^note sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon ^note almost with fear.
No? then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Either ^note death or you I'll find immediately. [Exit. ACT III. Scene I. The wood. Titania lying asleep. ^note Enter ^note Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.

Bot.

Are we all met?

Quin.

Pat, pat ^note; and here's a marvellous ^note convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke.

Bot.

Peter Quince,—

Quin.

What sayest thou, bully Bottom?

Bot.

There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Snout.

By'r lakin ^note, a parlous fear.

Star.

I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.

Bot.

Not a whit: I have a device ^note to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better ^note assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.

Quin.

Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.

Bot.

No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight ^note.

Snout.

Will not the ladies be afeard ^note of the lion?

Star.

I fear it, I promise you.

Bot.

Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves ^note: to bring in,—God shield us!—a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to 't ^note.

Snout.

Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.

Bot.

Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect ^note,—‘Ladies,’ —or, ‘Fair ladies,—I would wish you,’—or, ‘I would request you,’—or, ‘I would entreat you,—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither

as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are:’ and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them ^note plainly, he is Snug the joiner.

Quin.

Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.

Snout. ^note

Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?

Bot.

A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find ^noteout moonshine, find out moonshine.

Quin.

Yes, it doth shine that night.

Bot. ^note

Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window ^note, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement.

Quin.

Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.

Snout. ^note

You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?

Bot.

Some man or other must present wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam ^note, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and ^note let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.

Quin.

If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake: and so every one according to his cue.

Puck.
What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,

So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor too perhaps ^note, if I see cause.

Quin.
Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.

Bot. ^note
Thisby, the flowers ^note of ^note odious savours ^note sweet,—

Quin.
Odours, odours ^note.

Bot. ^note
—odours savours sweet: ^note
  So hath ^note thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile ^note,
  And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit.

Puck. ^note
A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here. [Exit. ^note

Flu. ^note
Must I speak now?

Quin. ^note

Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.

Flu. ^note
Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
  Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
Most brisky juvenal ^note, and eke most lovely Jew,
  As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,
I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.

Quin. ^note

‘Ninus' tomb,’ man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, ‘never tire.’

Flu. ^note
O,—As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. Re-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass's head. ^note

Bot. ^note
If I were fair, Thisby ^note, I were only thine.

Quin. ^note

O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help!

Puck.
I'll follow you, I'll lead you about ^note a round,
  Through bog, ^note through bush, through brake, through brier:
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
  A hog, a headless ^note bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, ^note
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit.

Bot.

Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard.

Snout.

O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? ^note

Bot.

What do you see? you see an ass-head of your own, do you?

Quin.

Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.

Bot.

I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will ^note sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.

The ousel ^note cock so black of hue,
  With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
  The wren with little ^note quill;

Tita. [Awaking]
What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

Bot. [Sings]

The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
  The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
  And dares not answer nay;—

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. ^note

Bot.

Methinks, mistress ^note, 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;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost ^note sleep:
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so,
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth ^note! and Mustardseed! ^note

^noteEnter ^note Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed.

First Fai.
Ready.

Sec. Fai.
And I.

Third Fai.
And I.

Fourth Fai.
And I.

All.
Where shall we go? ^note

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 ^note 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.

First Fai.
Hail, mortal!

Sec. Fai.
Hail!

Third Fai.
Hail!

Fourth Fai.
Hail! ^note

Bot.

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

Cob.

Cobweb.

Bot.

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

Peas.

Peaseblossom.

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 ^note more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?

Mus.

Mustardseed.

Bot.

Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience ^note well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred hath ^note made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more ^note 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 ^note every little flower,
  Lamenting some enforced chastity.
  Tie up my love's ^note tongue, ^note bring him silently. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: Another part of the wood. Enter Oberon. ^note

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. ^note
Here comes my messenger.
How now, mad spirit ^note!
What night-rule now about this haunted ^note grove?

Puck.
My mistress with a monster is in love.

Near to her close and consecrated bower, ^note
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 ^note 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 ^note I fixed on his head:
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic ^note comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated ^note 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 ^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,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders ^note 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 waked, and straightway loved an ass.

Obe.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd ^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 waked ^note, of force she must be eyed. ^noteEnter 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 ^note,
And kill me too ^note.
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me: would he have stolen away
From ^note 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 ^note
Her brother's noontide with the ^note Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look, so dead ^note, so grim.

Dem.
So should the murder'd ^note look; and so should I,
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:
Yet you, the murderer, look ^note 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 ^note rather give his carcass to my hounds.

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

Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!
O, once tell true, tell true ^note, even for my sake!
Durst thou have ^note look'd upon him being awake,
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch ^note!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
An ^note adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

Dem.
You spend your passion on ^note a misprised mood ^note:
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 ^note 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 ^note 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. ^{note note}

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

Puck.
Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

Obe. ^note
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 ^note the fresh blood dear:
By some illusion see thou bring her here:
I'll charm his eyes against she do ^note appear.

Puck.
I go, I go; look ^note how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit. ^note

Obe.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid's archery,
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 wakest, if she be by,
Beg of her ^note 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!

Obe.
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 preposterously. ^noteEnter Lysander and Helena.

Lys.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
  Scorn and derision never come ^note in tears:

Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
  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 judgement 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 ^note]
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' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess ^note of pure white, this ^note seal of bliss!

Hel.
O spite! O hell! I see you all are ^note 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,
But you must join in souls ^note to mock me too?
If you were ^note 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:
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision! none of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
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 ^note, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of ^note Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love, and will do ^note till ^note my death.

Hel.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.

Dem.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her ^note but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
And now to Helen is it ^note home return'd,
There ^note to remain.

Lys.
Helen, ^note it is not so.

Dem.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby ^note it dear ^note.
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. ^noteRe-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 recompense.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy ^note sound.
But why unkindly didst 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 oes ^note and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
The hate I bear ^note 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 spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
The sisters' ^note vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,—O, is all ^note forgot?
All school-day's ^note friendship, childhood ^note innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our needles ^note created both ^note 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 ^note an ^note union in partition,
Two lovely ^note berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; ^note
Two of the first, like ^note coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.

And will you rent ^note 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 ^note,
Though I alone do feel the injury.

Her.
I am amazed at your passionate words ^note.
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 unloved?
This you should pity rather than despise.

Her.
I understand not what you mean by this.

Hel.
Ay, do, persever ^note, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths ^note upon me when I turn my back;
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have ^note any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But fare ye well: 'tis partly my ^note own fault;
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

Lys.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:
My love, my life ^note, 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 prayers ^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 Ethiope ^note!

Dem.
No, no; he'll...
Seem to break loose ^note; take on as you ^note would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!

Lys.
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr ^note! 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 ^note potion ^note, hence!

Her.
Do you not jest?

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 ^note?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news ^note, my love!
Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
Since night you loved 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, of doubt ^note;
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.

Her.
O me! you juggler! you ^note canker-blossom!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night
And stolen 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? ^note ay, that way goes ^note the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage ^note,
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 ^note,
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 is ^note 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 am.

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. ^note
With Demetrius.

Lys.
Be not afraid; she shall ^note not harm thee, Helena ^note.

Dem.
No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.

Hel.
O, when she's ^note 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 minimus ^note, of hindering knot-grass made;
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 show of love to her,
Thou shalt aby ^note it.

Lys.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,
Of ^note thine or mine ^note, is most in Helena.

Dem.
Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. [Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius.

Her.
You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:
Nay, go not back.

Hel.
I will not trust you, I ^note,
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though, to run away. [Exit.

Her.
I am amazed, and know not what to say ^note. [Exit. ^{note note note}

Obe.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully ^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 ^note on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
That I have 'nointed ^note an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it so did ^note sort,
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

Obe.
Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight:
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog ^note, 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;

And sometime 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 property,
To take from thence all error with his ^note might,
And make his eyeballs 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 ^note,
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 ^note dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They wilfully themselves exile ^note from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

Obe.
But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the morning's love ^note have oft made sport;
And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed ^note beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt green ^note streams.

But, notwithstanding, ^note haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day. [Exit.

Puck. ^note

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. Re-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. [Exit Lysander, as following the voice. Re-enter Demetrius.

Dem.
Lysander! speak again:
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak! In some bush? ^note Where dost thou hide thy head?

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 defiled
That draws a sword on thee.

Dem.
Yea, art thou there?

Puck.
Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. [Exeunt. Re-enter ^note Lysander.

Lys.
He goes before me and still dares me on:
When I come where he calls, then he is ^note gone.
The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I: ^note
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;

That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. [Lies down. ^note] Come, thou gentle day!
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps. ^note Re-enter Puck and Demetrius.

Puck.
Ho, ho, ho! ^note Coward, why comest thou not?

Dem.
Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place,
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.
Where art thou now ^note?

Puck.
Come hither: I am here.

Dem.
Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy ^note this dear,
If ever I thy face by daylight 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 ^note down and sleeps. ^noteRe-enter Helena.

Hel.
O weary night, O long and tedious night,
  Abate thy hours! Shine comforts ^note from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
  From these that my poor company detest:
And sleep, that sometimes ^note shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Lies ^note down and sleeps.

Puck. ^note
Yet but three? ^note Come one more;
Two of both kinds makes ^note up four.

Here she comes ^note, curst and sad:
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad. Re-enter ^note 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 ^note shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies ^note down and sleeps.

Puck. ^note
    On the ground
    Sleep ^note sound:
    I'll apply
    To your eye ^note,
  Gentle lover, remedy. [Squeezing ^note the juice on Lysander's eyes.
    When thou wakest,
    Thou ^note takest ^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 Jill;
    Nought shall go ill; ^note
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well ^note. [Exit.

^note ACT IV. [Footnote: Scene I. The same. Lysander, Demetrius, Helena, and Hermia lying asleep. Enter ^note Titania and Bottom; Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and other Fairies attending; Oberon behind unseen.

Tita.
Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
  While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
  And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

Bot.

Where's Peaseblossom?

Peas.

Ready.

Bot.

Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur ^note Cobweb?

Cob.

Ready.

Bot.

Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you ^note your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humblebee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed.

Mus.

Ready.

Bot.

Give me your ^note neaf ^note, Mounsieur Mustardseed ^note. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.

Mus.

What's your will?

Bot.

Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery ^note Cobweb ^note to scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur; for

methinks I am marvellous ^note hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do ^note but tickle me, I must scratch.

Tita.

What, wilt thou hear some ^note music, my sweet love?

Bot.

I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's ^{note note}have the tongs ^note and the bones.

Tita.

Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest 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.

Tita.
I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard ^note, and fetch thee ^note new nuts.

Bot.

I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.

Tita.
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways ^note away ^note. [Exeunt Fairies. ^note
So doth the woodbine ^note the sweet honeysuckle
Gently entwist; the female ^note ivy so
Enrings ^note the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep. Enter Puck.

Obe. [Advancing]
Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity:
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours ^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 flowerets' ^note 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 straight she gave me, and her fairy ^note 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 this ^note Athenian swain;
That, he awaking when the other ^note do,
May all to Athens back again repair,
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.

Be ^note as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er ^note Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.

Tita.
My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

Obe.
There lies your love.

Tita.
How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do ^note loathe his ^note visage now!

Obe.
Silence awhile. Robin, take off this ^note head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead

Than common sleep of all these five ^note the sense.

Tita.
Music, ho! ^note music, such as charmeth sleep! [Music, still.]

Puck.
Now, when thou wakest ^note, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

Obe.
Sound, music! 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,
And bless it to all fair prosperity ^note:
There shall the ^note pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck.
Fairy ^note king, attend, and mark:
I do hear the morning lark.

Obe.
Then, my queen, in silence sad ^note,
Trip we after the night's ^note shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

Tita.
Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night, ^note
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground. [Exeunt. [Horns winded within. ^{note note}Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.

The.
Go, one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,

My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley; let them ^note go:
Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. [Exit an Attend.
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 bear ^note
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains ^note, every region near
Seem'd ^note all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

The.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian ^note bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'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 ^note my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's ^note Helena:
I wonder of their ^note being here together.

The.
No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite ^note 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. [Horns and shout within. Lys., Dem., Hel., and Her., wake and start up.

^note
Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

Lys.
Pardon, my lord.

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 ^note 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,
Without the peril of the Athenian law. ^note

Ege.
Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.
They would have stolen 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 ^note me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,—
But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia,
Melted as ^note the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud, ^note
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,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia ^note:
But, like in sickness ^note, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do ^note 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 ^note anon.
Egeus, I will overbear 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 purposed hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens! three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta ^note. [Exeunt ^note The., Hip., Ege., and train.

Dem. ^note
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.

Hel.
So methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like ^note a jewel ^note,
Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem.
Are you sure
That we are awake? ^note 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 Hippolyta.

Lys.
And he did bid ^note us follow to the temple. ^note

Dem.
Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him;
And by the way let us ^note recount our dreams. [Exeunt. ^note

Bot. [Awaking ^note]

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 ^note, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to ^note 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 ^note 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 a play ^note, before the Duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her ^note death.