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.