Puck.
How now Spirit, whither wander you?

Fai.
Over Hill, over Dale, through Bush, through Briar,
Over Park, over Pale, through Flood, through Fire,
I do wander every where, swifter than the Moon's Sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen, to dew her Orbs upon the Green.
The Cowslips tall her Pensioners be,
In their gold Coats Spots you see,
Those be Rubies, Fairy favours,
In those Freckles live their Savours:
I must go seek some Dew-Drops here,
And hang a Pearl in every Cowslip's Ear.
Farewel 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 stol'n 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 per-force with-holds 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 Star-light sheen,
But they do square, that all their Elves for fear
Creep into Acorn Cups, and hide them there.

Fai.
Either I mistake your Shape and Making quite,
Or else you are that shrew'd and knavish Sprite
Call'd Robin-goodfellow. Are you not he,
That fright the Maidens of the Villageree,
Skim Milk, and sometimes labour in the Quern,
And bootless make the breathless Huswife chern,
And sometime make the Drink to bear no Barme,
Miss-lead 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 speak'st 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 like a silly Foal:
And sometimes lurk I in a Gossip's Bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted Crab,
And when she drinks, again her Lips I bob,
And on her withered Dewlop 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 cries, and falls into a Cough,
And then the whole Quire hold their Hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their Mirth, and neeze and swear,
A merrier Hour was never wasted there.
But room, Fairy, here comes Oberon.

Fai.
And here my Mistress:
Would that we were gone. Enter Oberon King of Fairies at one Door with his Train, and the Queen at another with hers.

Ob.
I'll met by Moon-light,
Proud Titania.

Queen.
What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence,
I have forsworn his Bed and Company.

Ob.
Tarry rash Wanton, am not I thy Lord?

Queen.
Then I must be thy Lady; but I know
When thou wast stoll'n away from Fairy Land,
And in the shape of Corin sate all Day,
Playing on Pipes of Corn, and versing Love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep 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.

Ob.
How can'st thou thus for shame, Titania,
Glance at my Credit with Hippolita,
Knowing I know thy Love to Theseus?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering Night
From Peregenia, whom he ravished,
And make him with fair Ægle break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?

Queen.
These are the Forgeries of Jealousie,
And never since the middle Summer's Spring,
Met we on Hill, in Dale, Forest, or Mead,
By paved Fountain, or by rushy Brook,
Or in 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,
Hath every petty River made so proud,
That they have over-born their Continents.
The Ox hath therefore stretch'd his Yoak in vain,
The Ploughman lost his Sweat, and the green Corn
Hath rotted, e'er his Youth attain'd a Beard:

The Fold stands empty in the drowned Field,
And Crows are fatted with the Murrion Flock,
The Nine-mens-morris is fill'd up with Mud,
And the queint Mazes in the wanton Green,
For lack of tread are undistinguishable.
The human Mortals want their Winter here,
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 Rheumatick Diseases do abound.
And through this Distemperature, we see
The Seasons alter; hoary-headed Frosts
Fall in the fresh Lap of the Crimson Rose,
And on old Hyem's Chin and Icy Crown,
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer Buds
Is as in Mockery set. The Spring, the Summer,
The childing Autumn, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liveries, and the amazed World,
By their increase, now knows not which is which:
And this same Progeny of Evil comes
From our Debate, from our Dissention,
We are their Parents and Original.

Ob.
Do you amend it then, it lyes in you.
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling Boy,
To be my Henchman.

Queen.
Set your Heart at rest,
The Fairy-land buys not the Child of me.
His Mother was a Votress of my Order,
And in the spiced Indian Air by Night
Full often she hath gossipt by my side,
And sate with me on Neptune's yellow Sands,
Marking th' embarked Traders of the Flood,
When we have laught to see the Sails conceive,
And grow big-bellied with the wanton Wind:
Which she with pretty and with swimming Gate,
Following (her Womb then rich with my young Squire)
Would imitate, and sail upon the Land,
To fetch me Trifles, and return again,
As from a Voyage rich with Merchandize.
But she being mortal of that Boy did dye,

And for her sake I do rear up her Boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him.

Ob.
How long within this Wood intend you stay?

Queen.
Perchance 'till after Theseus's Wedding-day.
If you will patiently dance in our Round,
And see our Moon-light Revels, go with us;
If not, shun me and I will spare your Haunts.

Ob.
Give me that Boy, and I will go with thee.

Queen.
Not for thy fairy Kingdom. Fairies away:
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Exeunt.

Ob.
Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this Grove,
'Till I torment thee for this Injury.
My gentle Puck come hither; thou remembrest
Since that I sate 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 Sphears,
To hear the Sea-maid's Musick.

Puck.
I remember.

Ob.
That very time I saw, but thou could'st not,
Flying between the cold Moon and the Earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certain Aim he took
At a fair Vestal, throned by the West,
And loos'd his Love-shaft smartly from his Bow,
As it would pierce a hundred thousand Hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery Shaft
Quench'd in the chaste Beams of the wat'ry Moon,
And the Imperial Votress 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 a Man or Woman madly doat
Upon the next live Creature that it sees.
Fetch me this Herb, and be thou here again
E'er the Leviathan can swim a League.

Puck.
I'll put a Girdle about the Earth in forty Minutes. [Exit.

Ob.
Having once this Juice,
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the Liquor of it in her Eyes:
The next thing which she waking looks upon,
(Be it on Lyon, Bear, or Wolf, or Bull,
Or medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)
She shall pursue it with the Soul of Love;
And e'er I take this Charm off from 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 over-hear their Conference. Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.

Dem.
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia?
The one I'll stay, the other stayeth me.
Thou told'st me they were stol'n into this Wood;
And here am I, and Wood within this Wood,
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 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 I cannot love you?

Hel.
And even for that do I love thee 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 me; only give me Leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser Place can I beg in your Love,
(And yet a Place of high Respect with me)
Than to be used as you do 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 your self
Into the hands of one that loves you not,
To trust the Opportunity of Night,
And the ill Counsel of a desart Place,
With the rich Worth of your Virginity.

Hel.
Your Virtue is my Privilege; for that
It is 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 chang'd:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the Chace;
The Dove pursues the Griffin, the mild Hind
Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootless speed!
When Cowardize pursues, and Valour flies.

Dem.
I will not stay thy Questions, let me go;
Or if you follow me, do not believe,
But I shall do thee Mischief in the Wood.

Hel.
Ay, in the Temple, in the Town and Field
You do me Mischief. Fye, 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.
I follow thee, and make a Heaven of Hell,
To dye upon the Hand I love so well. [Exeunt.

Ob.
Fare thee well, Nymph, e'er he do leave this Grove
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy Love.
Hast thou the Flower there? Welcome Wanderer. Enter Puck.

Puck.
Ay, there it is.

Ob.
I pray thee give it me;
I know a Bank where the wild Time blows,
Where the Oxslips and the nodding Violet grows,
Quite over cannopy'd with luscious Woodbine,
With sweet Musk Roses, and with Eglatine,

There sleeps Titania, some time of the Night,
Lull'd in these Flowers, with Dances and Delight;
And there the Snake throws her enammel'd Skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a Fairy in:
And 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 of her than she upon her Love;
And look you meet me e'er the first Cock crow.

Puck.
Fear not my Lord, your Servant shall do so. [Exit. Enter Queen of Fairies, with her Train.

Queen.
Come, now a Roundel, and a Fairy Song:
Then for the third Part of a Minute hence,
Some to kill Kankers in the Musk-Rose Buds,
Some war with Reremise for their leathern Wings,
To make my small Elves Coats, and some keep back
The clamorous Owl that nightly hoots, and wonders
At our queint Spirits. Sing me now asleep,
Then to your Offices, and let me rest.

Fairies Sing.
You spotted Snakes with double Tongue,
Thorny Hedgehogs be not seen,
Newts and blind Worms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel with Melody,
Sing in your sweet Lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely Lady nigh,
So good night with Lullaby.

2. Fairy.
Weaving Spiders come not here;
Hence you long-leg'd Spinners, hence:
Beetles black approach not near,
Worm nor Snail do no Offence.
Philomel with Melody, &c.

1. Fairy.
Hence away; now all is well:
One aloof, stand Centinel. [Exeunt Fairies. Enter Oberon.

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 shall appear;
When thou wak'st, it is thy Dear;
Wake when some vile Thing is near. [Exit Oberon. Enter Lysander and Hermia.

Lys.
Fair Love, you faint with wandring in the Woods;
And to speak troth, I have forgot our Way:
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the Comfort of the Day.

Her.
Be it 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,
Lye further off yet, do not lye so near.

Lys.
O take the Sense sweet of my Innocence,
Love takes the Meaning in Love's Conference;
I mean that my Heart unto yours is knit,
So that but one Heart can you make of it:
Two Bosoms interchanged 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 lye.

Her.
Lysander riddles very prettily;
Now much beshrew my Manners, and my Pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander ly'd.

But gentle Friend, for Love and Curtesie
Lye further off in human Modesty;
Such Separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous Batchelor, 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 thy Bed, Sleep give thee all his Rest.

Her.
With half that Wish, the Wishers Eyes be prest. [They sleep. Enter Puck.

Puck.
Through the Forest have I gone,
But Athenian find 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 lye
Near this Lack-love, this kill Curtesie.
Churl, upon thy Eyes I throw
All the Power this Charm doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let Love forbid
Sleep his Seat on thy Eye-lid:
So awake when I am gone,
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel.
Stay, tho' thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.

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

Hel.
O wilt thou Darling leave me? Do not so.

Dem.
Stay on thy Peril, I alone will go. [Exit Demetrius.

Hel.
O I am out of Breath in this fond Chace,
The more my Prayer, the lesser is my Grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lyes;
For she hath blessed and attractive Eyes.
How came her Eyes so bright? Not with salt Tears;
If so, my Eyes are oftner 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, tho' Demetrius
Do as a Monster, fly my Presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling Glass of mine,
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery Eyn?
But who is here? Lysander on the Ground:
Dead or asleep? I see no Blood, no Wound:
Lysander, if you live, good Sir awake.

Lys.
And run thro' Fire I will for thy sweet Sake. [Waking.
Transparent Helena, Nature here shews Art,
That through thy Bosom makes me see thy Heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh how fit a Word
Is that vile Name, to perish on my Sword?

Hel.
Do not say so, Lysander, say not so;
What tho' he love your Hermia? Lord, what tho'?
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 now I love:
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 to Reason;
And touching now the Point of human Skill,
Reason becomes the Marshal to my Will,
And leads me to your Eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's Stories, 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's 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:

Oh, that a Lady of one Man refus'd,
Should of another therefore be abus'd. [Exit.

Lys.
She sees not Hermia, Hermia sleep thou there,
And never may'st thou come Lysander near;
For as a Surfeit of the sweetest Things,
The deepest loathing to a Stomach brings;
Or as the Heresies that Men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
So thou, my Surfeit and my Heresie,
Of all be hated, but the most of me;
And all my Powers address your Love and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight. [Exit.

Her.
Help me, Lysander, help me, do thy best
To pluck this crawling Serpent from my Breast:
Ay me, for Pity, what a Dream was here?
Lysander look, how I do quake with Fear;
Me-thought a Serpent eat my Heart away,
And yet sate smiling at his cruel Prey:
Lysander, what remov'd? Lysander, Lord,
What out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?
Alack where are you? Speak, and if you hear,
Speak of all Loves; I swound almost with Fear.
No, then I well perceive you are not nigh,
Either Death or you I'll find immediately. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt and Starveling. The Queen of Fairies lying asleep.

Bot.

Are we all met?

Quin.

Pat, pat, and here's a marvellous convenient Place for our Rehearsal. This green Plat shall be our Stage, this Hauthorn brake our tyring House, and we will do it in Action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot.

Peter Quince.

Quin.

What say'st thou Bully Bottom?

Bot.

There are Things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will never please. First, Piramus must draw a

Sword to kill himself, which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Snout.

Berlaken, a parlous Fear.

Star.

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

Bot.

Not a whit, I have a Device 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 Piramus is not kill'd indeed; and for the more better 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.

Snowt.

Will not the Ladies be afeard of the Lion?

Star.

I fear it, I promise you.

Bot.

Masters, you ought to consider with your selves; 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 it.

Snowt.

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; Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat 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 plainly he is Snug the Joiner.

Quin.

Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard Things, that is, to bring the Moon-light into a Chamber; for you know Pyramus and Thisby meet by Moon-light.

Snug.

Doth the Moon shine that Night we play our Play?

Bot.

A Calender, a Calender, look in the Almanack; find out Moon-shine, find out Moon-shine.

Quin.

Yes, it doth shine that Night.

Bot.

Why then may you leave a Casement of the great

Chamber Window, 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 Lanthorn, 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.

Snug.

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 Lome, or some Rough-cast about him, to signify Wall, or let him hold his Fingers thus; and through the 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, if I see Cause.

Quin.
Speak Pyramus; Thisby stand forth.

Pyr.
Thisby, the Flowers of odious Savour's sweet.

Quin.
Odours, Odours.

Pyr.
Odours savors sweet,
So that thy Breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
But hark, a Voice; stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit Pyr.

Puck.
A Stranger Pyramus than e'er plaid here.

This.

Must I speak now?

Quin.

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

This.
Most radiant Pyramus, most lilly white of Hue,
Of Colour like the red Rose on triumphant Bryer,
Most brisky Juvenal, 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.

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.

This.

O, as true as truest Horse, that yet would never tire.

Pyr.

If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.

Quin.

O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted; pray Masters, fly Masters, help.

Puck.
I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a Round,
Through Bog, through Bush, through Brake, through Bryer;
Sometimes a Horse I'll be, sometimes a Hound,
A Hog, a headless Bear, sometime a Fire,
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and rore and burn,
Like Horse, Hound, Hog, Bear, Fire, at every turn. [Exit. Enter Bottom with an Ass Head.

Bot.

Why do they run away? This is a Knavery of them to make me afeard.

Snowt.

O Bottom, thou art chang'd; what do I see on thee?

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 will sing that they shall hear I am not afraid.

Queen.
What Angel wakes me from my flowry Bed? [Waking.

Bot.
The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Lark,
The plain-song Cuckow 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 Lye, tho' he cry Cuckow never so?

Queen.
I pray thee, gentle Mortal, sing again,
Mine Ear is much enamour'd of thy Note;
On the first view to say, to swear I love thee.
So is mine Eye enthralled to thy Shape,
And thy fair Virtues force (perforce) doth move me.

Bot.

Methinks, Mistress, you should have little Reason for that: And yet, to say the truth, Reason and Love keep little Company together, now a-days. The more the pity, that some honest Neighbours will not make them Friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.

Queen.

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.

Queen.
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 doth sleep:
And I will purge thy mortal Grosness so,
That thou shalt like an airy Spirit go. Enter Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and four Fairies.

1 Fiar.
Ready.

2 Fair.
And I.

3 Fair.
And I,

4 Fair.
And I, Where shall we go?

Queen.
Be kind and courteous to this Gentleman.
Hop in his Walks, and Gambole in his Eye,
Feed him with Apricocks and Dewberries,
With purple Grapes, green Figs, and Mulberries,
The Honey Bags steal from the Humble Bees,
And for Night Tapers crop their waxen Thighs,
And light them at the fiery Glow-worm's Eyes,
To have my Love to Bed, and to arise:
And pluck the Wings from painted Butterflies,
To fan the Moon-beams from his sleeping Eyes.
Nod to him Elves, and do him Courtesies.

1 Fair.

Hail Mortal, Hail.

2 Fair.

Hail.

3 Fair.

Hail.

Bot.

I cry your Worship's Mercy heartily, I beseech your Worship's Name.

Cob.

Cobweb.

Bot.

I shall desire of you 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 Peasecod your Father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire of you more Acquaintance too. Your Name, I beseech you, Sir?

Mus.

Mustardseed.

Bot.

Good Master Mustardseed, I know your Patience well: That same cowardly Giant-like Ox-beef hath devour'd many a Gentleman of your House. I promise you, your Kindred hath made my Eyes water e'er now. I desire more of your Acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.

Queen.
Come wait upon him, lead him to my Bower.
The Moon, methinks, looks with a watry Eye,
And when she weeps, weep every little Flower,
Lamenting some enforced Chastity.
Tye up my Lover's Tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt. Enter King of Fairies solus.

Ob.
I wonder if Titania be awak'd:
Then what it was that next came in her Eye,
Which she must dote on in Extremity. Enter Puck.
Here comes my Messenger: How now mad Spirit,
What Night-rule now about this haunted Grove?

Puck.
My Mistress with a Monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated Bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping Hour,
A crew of Patches, rude Mechanicals,
That work for Bread upon Athenian Stalls,
Were met together to Rehearse a Play,
Intended for great Theseus Nuptial Day.
The shallowest thick Skin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their Sport

Forsook his Scene, and entred in a Brake,
When I did him at this Advantage take,
An Ass's Nole I fixed on his Head;
Anon his Thisby must be answered,
And forth my Mimick comes; When they him spy,
As wild Geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,
Or russet-pated Choughs, many in sort,
Rising and Kawing at the Gun's report,
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the Sky;
So at his sight, away his Fellows fly,
And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls;
He Murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their Sense thus weak, lost with their Fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong.
For Briars and Thorns at their Apparel snatch,
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'd the Athenian 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 Blood, plunge in the deep, and kill me too.
The Sun was not so true unto the Day
As he to me. Would he have stollen away
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 th' Antipodes.

It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him,
So should a Murtherer look, so dead, so grim.

Dem.
So should the Murtherer look, and so should I,
Pierc'd through the Heart with your stern Cruelty:
Yet you the Murderer look as bright and 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'd rather give his Carkass 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 numbred among Men.
Oh! once tell true, and even for my sake,
Durst thou a look'd upon him, being awake?
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch:
Could not a Worm, an Adder do so much?
An Adder did it, for with doubler Tongue
Than thine, thou Serpent, never Adder stung.

Dem.
You spend your Passion on a mispriz'd mood;
I am not guilty of Lysander's Blood,
Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell.

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

Dem.
And if I could, what should I get therefore?

Her.
A Privilege never to see me more;
And from thy hated Presence part I. 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 Sorrows heaviness doth heavier grow:
For Debt that Bankrupt sleep doth Sorrow owe,
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down.

Ob.
What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,
And laid thy 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.

Ob.
About the Wood go swifter than the Wind,
And Helena of Athens see thou find.
All Fancy-sick she is, and pale of Cheer,

With sighs of Love, that costs the fresh Blood dear;
By some Illusion see thou bring her here;
I'll charm his Eyes against she doth 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 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 wak'st, if she be by,
Beg of her for Remedy. 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 preposterously. 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,
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 Snow,
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 white, this seal of Bliss.

Hel.
O Spight, O Hell, I see you are all bent
To set against me, for your Merriment:
If you were civil, and knew Courtesie,
You would not do me thus much Injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in Souls to mock me too?
If you are 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 Enterprize,
To conjure Tears up in a poor Maid's Eyes,
With your Derision: None of Nobler 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 with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's Love I yield you up my part;
And your's 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.
My Heart to her, but as Guest-wise sojourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,
There to remain.

Lys.
It is not so.

Dem.
Disparage not the Faith thou dost not know,

Lest to thy peril thou abide it dear.
Look where thy Love comes, yonder is thy Dear. 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 that 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 O's and Eyes of Light.
Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know
The Hate I bear 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 me.
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,
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-days Friendship, Childhoods Innocence?
We, Hermia, like two Artificial gods,
Have with our Needles, 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 an Union in partition;
Two lovely Berries molded on one Stem,
So with two seeming Bodies, but one Heart,
Two of the first Life, Coats of Heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one Crest.

And will you rend 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, persevere, counterfeit sad Looks,
Make Mouths 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 any Pity, Grace, or Manners,
You would not make me such an Argument:
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 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 Praise.
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.

Dem.
No, no, Sir, 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 Burre; 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; O hated Poison, 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?
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 ere-while.
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, of doubt,
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest,
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.

Her.
O me, you Jugler, you Canker-blossom,
You Thief of Love; what have you come by Night,
And stollen 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 ways go 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,
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 Cowardize:
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
Because she's something lower than my self,
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 into this Wood:
He follow'd you, for Love I follow'd him,
But he hath chid me hence, and threatned 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.
With Demetrius.

Lys.
Be not afraid, she will not harm thee, Helena.

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

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 Minimus, of hindring 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 shew of Love to her,
Thou shalt abide it.

Lys.
Now she holds me not,
Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose Right
Of 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,
Nor longer stay in your curst Company.
Your Hands than mine are quicker for a Fray,
My Legs are longer though, to run away. [Exeunt. Enter Oberon and Puck.

Ob.
This is thy Negligence, still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy Knaveries willingly.

Puck.
Believe me, King of Shadows, I mistook:
Did not you tell me I should know the Man,
By the Athenian Garments he hath 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 sort,
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;
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 its Might,
And make his Eye-balls rowl 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 imploy,
I'll to my Queen, and beg her Indian Boy;
And then I will her charmed Eye release
From Monsters 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 wandring here and there,
Troop home to Church-yards; Damned Spirits all,
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 exile themselves from Light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd Night.

Ob.
But we are Spirits of another sort;
I with the Morning-Love 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 Beams,
Turns into yellow Gold his salt-green Streams.
But notwithstanding haste, make no delay;
We may effect this Business yet e'er Day. [Exit Oberon.

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.

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.

Enter Demetrius.

Dem.
Lysander, speak again;
Thou Run-away, thou Coward, art thou fled?
Speak in some Bush: Where dost thou hide thy Head?

Puck.
Thou Coward, art thou begging 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. [Exe.

Lys.
He goes before me, and still dares me on,
When I come where he calls me, then he's gone.
The Villain is much lighter heel'd than I:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly; [Shifting places.
That fall'n am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. Come thou gentle Day: [Lyes down.
For if but once thou shew me thy gray Light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this Spight. Enter Puck and Demetrius.

Puck.
Ho, ho, ho, Coward why com'st 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.

Dem.
Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this dear,
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. [Lyes 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 sometimes 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 Briars,
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;
Heav'ns shield Lysander, if they mean a Fray. [Lyes down.

Puck.
On the Ground sleep sound,
I'll apply to your Eye, gentle Lover, remedy. [Squeezing the Juice on Lysander's Eye.
When thou wak'st thou tak'st
True Delight in the Sight of former Lady's Eye,
And the Country Proverb known,
That every Man should take his own,
In your waking shall be known.
Jack shall have Jill, naught shall go ill,
The Man shall have his Mare again, and all be well. [Ex. Puck. [They sleep. ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter Queen of Fairies, Bottom, Fairies attending, and the King behind them.

Queen.
Come, sit thee down upon this flowry 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?

Pease.

Ready.

Bot.

Scratch my Head, Peaseblossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb?

Cob.

Ready.

Bot.

Monsieur Cobweb, good Monsieur get your Weapons in your Hand, and kill me a red-hipt Humble-Bee on the Top of a Thistle, and good Monsieur bring me the Honey-bag. Do not fret your self too much in the Action, Monsieur; and good Monsieur have a Care the Honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a Honey-bag, Signior. Where's Monsieur Mustardseed?

Must.

Ready.

Bot.
Give me your News, Monsieur Mustard;
Pray you leave your Curtesie, good Monsieur.

Must.

What's your Will?

Bot.

Nothing, good Monsieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers, 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 Tongs and the Bones.

Queen.

Or say, sweet Love, what thou desir'st to eat.

Bot.

Truly a Peck of Provender; I would 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 Squirrels Hoard,
And fetch thee new Nuts.

Bot.

I had rather have a handful 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 always away:
So doth the Woodbine the sweet Hony-suckle
Gently entwist; the female Ivy so
Enrings the barky Fingers of the Elm.
O how I love thee! how I dote on thee! 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 Favours 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 Flouriets 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 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 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,
But as the fierce Vexation of a Dream.
But first I will release the Fairy Queen.

Be thou as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's Bud, or Cupid's Flower,
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 enamoured of an Ass.

Ob.
There lies your Love.

Queen.
How came these Things to pass?
Oh how mine Eyes do loath this Visage now!

Ob.
Silence a while; Robin take off his Head:
Titiana, Musick call, and strike more dead
Than common Sleep. Of all these find the Sense.

Queen.
Musick, ho Musick; such as charmeth Sleep. Musick still.

Puck.

When thou awak'st, with thine own Fools Eyes peep.

Ob.
Sound Musick; come my Queen, take Hand 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 Posterity:
There shall these Pairs of faithful Lovers be
Wedded with Theseus all in Jollity.

Puck.
Fair King attend and mark,
I do hear the Morning Lark.

Ob.
Then my Queen in Silence sad,
Trip we after the Night's Shade;
We the Globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandring Moon.

Queen.
Come my Lord, and in our Flight,
Tell me how it came this Night,
That I sleeping here was found, [Sleepers lye still.
With these Mortals on the Ground. [Exeunt. [Wind Horns. Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his Train.

Thes.
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 Musick of my Hounds:
Uncouple in the Western Valley, let them go,
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 Eccho in conjunction.

Hip.
I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,
When in a Wood of Creet they bay'd the Bear
With Hounds of Sparta; never did I hear
Such gallant Chiding. 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.

Thes.
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-kneed, and Dew-lapt, like Thessalian Bulls,
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in Mouth like Bells,
Each under each. A Cry more tuneable
Was never hallow'd to, nor cheer'd with Horn,
In Creet, 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 of this being here together.

Thes.
No doubt they rose up early, to observe
The right 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.

Thes.
Go bid the Huntsmen wake them with their Horns. Horns, and they wake. Shout within, they all start up.

Thes.
Good Morrow Friends; Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these Wood-birds but to couple now?

Lys.
Pardon, my Lord.

Thes.
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 stoll'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 the Wood,
And I in Fury hither follow'd them
Fair Helena in Fancy follow'd me:
But, my good Lord, I wot not by what Power,
But by some Power it is, my Love
To Hermia, melted as the Snow,
Seems to me now as the Remembrance of an idle Gaude,
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 betrothed e'er I did see 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.

Thes.
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. [Exit Duke and Lords.

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.

Hel.
So methinks;
And I have found Demetrius like a Jewel;
Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem.
It seems so to me,
That 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 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.

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 had a Dream past the Wit of Man to say what Dream it was: Man is but an Ass if he go about to expound this Dream. Methought I was, there is no Man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had. But Man is but a patch'd 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 call'd Bottom's Dream, because it hath no Bottom; and I will sing it in the latter End of a Play before the Duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her Death.