Demetrius.
Ege.
Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
The.
Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee?
Ege.
Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.—
Stand forth, Demetrius;—My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her:—
Stand forth, Lysander;—and, my gracious duke,
This hath note bewitch'd the bosom of my child:—
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rimes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stoln the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nose-gays, sweet-meats; messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth:
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness:—And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient priviledge of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this † gentleman,
Or to her death; according to our law,
Immediately provided in that case.
-- 5 --
The.
What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax,
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure, or diffigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
Her.
So is Lysander.
The.
In himself he is:
But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
Her.
I would, my father look'd but with my eyes.
The.
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
Her.
I do entreat your grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold;
Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts:
But I beseech your grace, that I may know
The worst that may befal me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
The.
Either to die the death, or to abjure
For ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood,
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage:
But earthly happier note is the rose distill'd,
-- 6 --
Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn,
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
Her.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, to whose note unwish'd yoak
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
The.
Take time to pause: and, by the next new moon,
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For everlasting bond of fellowship)
Upon that day either prepare to die,
For disobedience to your father's will;
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would;
Or on Diana's altar to protest,
For aye, austerity and single life.
Dem.
Relent, sweet Hermia;—And, Lysander, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
Lys.
You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
Ege.
Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love;
And what is mine, my love shall render him:
And she is mine; and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius note.
Lys.
I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes note every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia:
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
-- 7 --
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
The.
I must confess, that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it.—But, Demetrius, come,
And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
I have some private schooling for you both.—
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up
(Which by no means we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.—
Come, my Hippolita; What cheer, my love?—
Demetrius, and Egeus, go along:
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial; note and confer with you
Of something, nearly that concerns yourselves.
Ege.
With duty, and desire, we follow you.
[Exeunt The. Hip. Ege. Dem. and Train.
Lys.
How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Her.
Belike, for want of rain;14Q0235 which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. note
Lys.
Hermia, for note ought that I could ever note read,
Could ever hear by tale or note history,
The course of true love note never did run smooth.
But either it was different in blood;
Her.
O cross! too high to be enthral'd to low!
Lys.
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;
Her.
O spite! too old to be engag'd to young!
Lys.
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends: note
-- 8 --
Her.
O hell! to choose love by another's eye? note
Lys.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the colly'd night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,—Behold,
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
Her.
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,
It stands as an edíct in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross;
As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,
Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
Lys.
A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
From Athens is her house remote seven note leagues;
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us: If thou lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And, in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do observance to a note morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.
Her.
My good Lysander!
I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;
By his best arrow with the golden head;
-- 9 --
By the simplicity of Venus' doves;
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; note
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,
When the false Trojan under sail was seen;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more then ever women spoke;—
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Lys.
Keep promise, love: Look, here comes Helena.
Enter Helena.
Her.
God speed, fair Helena! Whither away?
Hel.
Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves you, fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are load-stars; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hauthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favour so!
Your's would I catch note, note14Q0236 fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I'll give note to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
Her.
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
Hel.
O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
Her.
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
Hel.
O, that my prayers could such affection move!
Her.
The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel.
The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her.
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. note
Hel.
None, but your beauty; 'Would, that fault were mine!
-- 10 --
Her.
Take comfort; he no more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.—
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens as a note paradise to me:
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell? note
Lys.
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phœbe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watry glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal)
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.
Her.
And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lye,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet; note
There my Lysander and myself shall meet:
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies. note
Farewel, sweet play fellow: pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!—
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers' food, 'till morrow deep midnight.
[Exit Hermia.
Lys.
I will, my Hermia.—Helena, adieu:
As you on him, Demetrius dote note on you!
[Exit Lysander.
Hel.
How happy some, o'er other some, can be?
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know. note
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
-- 11 --
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd note.
As waggish boys in game note themselves forswear,
So the boy love is perjur'd every where:
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyen,
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine;
And when this hail note14Q0237 some heat from Hermia felt,
Lo, he note dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood note will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence note
If I have thanks, it is a dear expence:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,—
To have his sight thither, and back again.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The same. A Room in Quince's House.
Enter Quince, Snug, Flute, Bottom, Snout, and Starveling.
Qui.
Is all our company here?
Bot.
You were best to call them generally, man by
man, according to the scrip. note
Qui.
Here † is the scrowl of every man's name, which
is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude
before the duke and the dutchess, on his wedding-day
at night.
Bot.
First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
-- 12 --
on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to note
a point.
Qui.
Marry, our play is—The most lamentable comedy,
and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
Bot.
A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a
merry.—Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors
by the scrowl:—Masters, spread yourselves.
Qui.
Answer, as I call you.—Nick Bottom, the weaver.
Bot.
Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Qui.
You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
Bot.
What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
Qui.
A lover, that kills himself most gallant note for love.
Bot.
That will ask some tears in the true performing
of it: If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I
will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To
the rest;—Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could
play Ercles rarely,14Q0238 or a part to tear a cat in:
—To make all split
The raging rocks;
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates;
And Phibbus' car
Shall shine from far,
And make and mar
The foolish fates.
This was lofty!—Now name the rest of the players.—
This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more
condoling.
Qui.
Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Flu.
Here, Peter Quince.
Qui.
Flute, you note must take Thisby on you.
-- 13 --
Flu.
What is Thisby? a wand'ring knight?
Qui.
It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
Flu.
Nay, 'faith, let not me play a woman; I have
a beard coming.
Qui.
That's all one; you shall play it in a mask,
and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot.
An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too:
I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;—Thisne, Thisne!
—Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear, and lady
dear.
Qui.
No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you
Thisby.
Bot.
Well, proceed.
Qui.
Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Sta.
Here, Peter Quince.
Qui.
Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
—Tom Snout, the tinker.
Sno.
Here, Peter Quince.
Qui.
You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father;—
Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:—and, I hope, here
is note a play fitted.
Snu.
Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if
it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
Qui.
You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but
roaring.
Bot.
Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I
will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar,
that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, let
him roar again.
Qui.
An you note should do it too terribly, you would
fright the dutchess, and the ladies, that they would
shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.
-- 14 --
Clo.
That would hang us every mother's son.
Bot.
I grant you, friends, if you note should fright the
ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion
but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice
so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove;
I will roar an 'twere any nightingale.
Qui.
You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus
is a sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in
a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man;
therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot.
Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I
best to play it in?
Qui.
Why, what you will.
Bot.
I will discharge it in either your straw-colour
beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain
beard, or your French-crown-colour note beard, your perfect
yellow.
Qui.
Some of your French crowns have no hair at
all, and then you will play bare-fac'd.—But, masters,
here &dagger2; are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request
you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night;
and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the
town, by moon-light; there will we rehearse: for if
we meet in the city, we shall note be dog'd with company,
and our devices known. In the mean time, I will draw
a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you,
fail me not.
Bot.
We will meet; and there we may rehearse most
obscenely note, and courageously. Take pains; note be perfect;
adieu.
Qui.
At the duke's oak we meet:
Bot.
Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings.
[Exeunt.
-- 15 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Wood near Athens.
Enter, from opposite Sides, a Fairy, and Puck, or, Robin Good-fellow.
Puc.
How now, spirit! whither wander you?
Fai.
Over hill, over dale,14Q0239
Thorough note bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough 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 there,
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.
Puc.
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, stoln 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:
-- 16 --
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 spangl'd 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 shrewd and knavish sprite,
Call'd Robin Good-fellow: Are not you note he,
That frights the maidens of the villag'ry;
Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless huswife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hob-goblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?
Puc.
Thou speakest note me 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 foal: note
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 dew-lap 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 rails, or cries note, note14Q0240 and falls into a coffe;
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
-- 17 --
A merrier hour was never wasted there.—
But make room, fairy, here comes Oberon.
Fai.
And here my mistress: 'Would, that he were note gone!
Enter the King of Fairies, from one Side, with his Train; and the Queen, from the other, with hers.
Obe.
Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.
Tit.
What, jealous Oberon?—Fairy, skip hence,
I have forsworn his bed and company.
Obe.
Tarry, rash wanton; Am not I thy lord?
Tit.
Then I must be thy lady: But I know
When thou hast stoln note 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 step of note 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 Hippolita,
Knowing I know thy love to Thesëus?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair Egle note break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa? note
Tit.
These are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since14Q0241 that middle note summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or on note the beached margent of the sea,
-- 18 --
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 pelting river note 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, ere his youth note attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock:
The nine-men's morrice is fill'd up with mud;
And the quaint 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, thorough note this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed note frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hyems' chin, and icy note crown,
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
The chiding note autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed note world,
By their encrease, now knows not which is which:
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissention;
We are their parents and original.
-- 19 --
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.
Tit.
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 hath she gossip'd by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood;
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive,
And grow big-belly'd, with the wanton wind:
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait,
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 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?
Tit.
Perchance, 'till after Theseus' 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.
Obe.
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.
Tit.
Not for thy fairy kingdom.—Fairies, away:
We shall chide down-right, if I longer stay.
[Exeunt Queen, and her Train.
Obe.
Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove,
'Till I torment thee for this injury.—
-- 20 --
My gentle Puck, come hither: Thou remember'st14Q0242
Since once I note 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 musick.
Puc.
I remember.
Obe.
That very time, I saw note, (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; note
And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:
But I might see young Cupid's fiery snaft
Quench'd in the chast beams of the watry 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 lay'd,
Will make or man or woman madly doat
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again,
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
Puc.
I'll put a girdle round about note the earth
In forty minutes.
[Exit Puck.
Obe.
Having once this juice,
I'll watch Titania when she note is asleep,
-- 21 --
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
The next thing then she note waking looks upon,
(Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
On medling 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 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 slay, the other slayeth note me.
Thou told'st me, they were stoln unto this note wood;
And here am I, and wode note 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 you the note 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,
-- 22 --
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Than to be used as you use your note 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 priviledge: 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 tiger: Bootless speed!
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.
Dem.
I will not stay thy questions; 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:
-- 23 --
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
[Demetrius breaks from her, and Exit.
I'll follow note thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.
[Exit.
Obe.
Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.—
Re-enter Puck.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
Puc.
Ay, there † it is.
Obe.
I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,
Where ox-lips note and the nodding violet grows;
O'er-canopy'd note note with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamel'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 &dagger2; 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 her, than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
Puc.
Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.
[Exeunt, severally.
-- 24 --
SCENE II.
Another Part of the Wood.
Enter Titania, and Fairies.
Tit.
Come, now a roundel,14Q0243 and a fairy song;
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence:
Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some, war with rear-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: Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
SONG.
First Fairy.
You spotted snakes, with double tongue,
thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen;
newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong;
come not near our fairy queen:
Cho.
Philomel, with melody,
sing in our sweet note lullaby;
lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:
never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
come our lovely lady nigh;
so, good night, with lullaby.
Second Fairy. note
Weaving spiders, come not here;
hence, you long-leg'd spinners, hence:
beetles black, approach not near;
worm, nor snail, do no offence:
Cho.
Philomel, with melody, &c.
1. F. note
Hence, away; now all is well:
One, aloof, stand centinel.
[Exeunt. Tit. sleeps.
-- 25 --
Enter Oberon.
Obe.
What thou see'st, when thou dost wake,
[to Tit. squeezing the Flower upon her Eye-lids.
Do it for thy note true love take;
Love, and languish for his sake:
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristl'd hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak'st, it is thy dear;
Wake, when some vile thing is near.
[Exit.
Enter Lysander, and Hermia.
Lys.
Fair love note you faint with wand'ring 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 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; note
So that but one heart can we make note 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. note
Her.
Lysander riddles very prettily:—
Now much beshrew my manners, and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander ly'd.
-- 26 --
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lye further off; in human modesty
Such seperation, 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 my bed: Sleep give thee all his rest!
Her.
With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
[they sleep.
Enter Puck.
Puc.
Through the forest have I gone;
But Athenian found I note 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 to this kill-courtesy. note
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 though note thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
-- 27 --
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 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 lies;
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, though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyen?—
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 through fire I will, for thy sweet sake. note
[waking, and starting up.
Transparent Helena! Nature shews note art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius note? 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 note do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena I love:
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
-- 28 --
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'er-look
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' 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 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 the stomach note brings;
Or, as the heresies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did note deceive;
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresy,
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. [starting.]
Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
-- 29 --
Ah me, for pity! what a dream was here?
Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear:
Methought, a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat note smiling at his cruel prey:—
Lysander! what, remov'd? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, note no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
Speak of note all loves. I swoon note almost with fear.
No?—then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Or death, or you, I'll find immediately.
[Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The same.
Queen of Fairies asleep. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
Bot.
Are we all met?
Qui.
Pat, pat; and here's a marvels note convenient place
for our rehearsal: This green plot 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,—
Qui.
What say'st 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?
Sno.
By'r-lakin, a par'lous fear.
Sta.
I believe, we must leave the killing out, when
all is done.
Bot.
Not a whit; I have a device to make all well.
-- 30 --
Write me a prologue: and let the prologue seem to say,
we will do no harm with our swords; and that Pyramus
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.
Qui.
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.
Sno.
Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
Sta.
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
Sno.
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 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 plainly note,
he is Snug the joiner.
Qui.
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.
-- 31 --
Snu.
Doth note the moon shine that night we play our play ?
Bot.
A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanack;
find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine.
Qui.
Yes, it doth shine that night.
Bot.
Why note, then may you leave a casement of the
great chamber window, where we play, open; and the
moon may shine in at the casement.
Qui.
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 moon-shine. 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.
Snu.
You note 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 roughcast,
about him, to signify wall; or let him hold his
fingers thus †, and through that cranny shall Pyramus
and Thisby whisper.
Qui.
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.
Enter Puck.
&clquo;Puc.
&clquo;What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,&crquo;
&clquo;So near the cradle of the fairy queen?&crquo;
&clquo;What, a play toward? I'll be an auditor;&crquo;
&clquo;An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.&crquo;
Qui.
Speak, Pyramus:—Thisby, stand forth.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;Thisby, the flower note14Q0244 of odious savours sweet,—
Qui.
Odours, odours. note
-- 32 --
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;&lblank; odours savours sweet:
&cast;So doth thy note breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
&cast;But, hark, a voice! stay thou but here a whit, note
&cast;And by and by I will to thee appear.
[Exit.
&clquo;Puc.
&clquo;A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here.&crquo;
[Exit.
Flu.
Must I speak now?
Qui.
Ay, marry, must you: for, you must understand,
he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is
to come again.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;Most radiant Pyramus, most lilly-white of hue,
&cast;Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
&cast;Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
&cast;As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,
&cast;I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
Qui.
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.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;O, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.
Re-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass' Head.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine:—
Qui.
O monstrous! o strange! we are haunted. Pray,
masters! fly, masters! help!
[Exeunt all the Clowns.
&clquo;Puc.
&clquo;I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round,&crquo;
&clquo;Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:&crquo;
&clquo;Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,&crquo;
&clquo;A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;&crquo;
&clquo;And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,&crquo;
&clquo;Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.&crquo;
[Exit.
Bot.
Why do they run away? this is a knavery of
them, to make me afeard.
Re-enter Snout.
-- 33 --
Sno.
O Bottom, thou art chang'd! what do I see on
thee?
[Exit.
Bot.
What do you see? you see an ass' head of your
own; Do you?
Re-enter Quince.
Qui.
Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.
[Exit.
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 sing, that they shall hear I am not
afraid.
[sings.
The ouzel cock, so black of hue,
with orange-tawny bill,
the throstle with his note so true,
the wren with little note quill;
Tit.
What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
Bot.
the finch, note 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?
Tit.
I pray thee, gentle mortal,14Q0245 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.
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
-- 34 --
pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them
friends. Nay, I can gleek, upon occasion.
Tit.
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.
Tit.
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 sleep:
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so,
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.—
Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed!
Enter four Fairies.
1. F.
Ready.
2.
And I.
3.
and I.
4.
and I.
all.
Where shall we go?
Tit.
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 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 butter-flies,
To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes:
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
14Q0246
1. F.
Hail, mortal!
2.
hail!
3.
hail!
4.
hail!
-- 35 --
Bot.
I cry your worships mercy, heartily.—I beseech,
your worship's name?
Cob.
Cobweb.
Bot.
I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good
master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall make bold
with you.—Your name, honest gentleman?
Pea.
Pease-blossom.
Bot.
I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash,
your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good
master Pease-blossom, I shall desire you of note more acquaintance
too.—Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Mus.
Mustard-seed.
Bot.
Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience
well: note that same cowardly, giant-like, ox-beef hath devour'd
many a gentleman of your house: I promise
you, your kindred hath made note my eyes water ere now.
I desire you, more note acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed.
Tit.
Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon, methinks, looks with a watry eye;
And when she weeps, weeps every note little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tye up my love's note tongue, bring him silently.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Part of the Wood.
Enter Oberon.
Obe.
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 note grove?
-- 36 --
Puc.
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 enter'd in a brake:
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head;
Anon, his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimick note comes: When they him spy,
As wild-geese, that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated 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, here o'er and o'er one falls;
He murther 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 straitway lov'd an ass.
Obe.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet lech'd note the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
-- 37 --
Puc.
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.
&clquo;Obe.
&clquo;Stand close; this is the same Athenian.&crquo;
&clquo;Puc.
&clquo;This is the woman, but not this the man.&crquo;
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 stoln 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 displease14Q0247
Her brother's noontide with the antipodes. note
It cannot be, but thou hast murther'd him;
So should a murtherer look, so dead, so grim.
Dem.
So should the murther'd look; note and so should I,
Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty:
Yet you, the murtherer, look as note bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
Her.
What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Dem.
I had rather note give his carcass to my hounds.
Her.
Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the bounds note
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!
-- 38 --
O, once tell true, tell true, even note for my sake;
Durst thou have look'd note 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 note 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.
An if I could, what should I get therefore?
Her.
A priviledge, never to see me more.
And from thy hated presence part I so:—
See me no more, whether he be dead, or no.
[Exit.
Dem.
There is no following her in this fierce vein:
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow,
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth note sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
[lies down.
Obe.
What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite,
And lay'd 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.
Puc.
Then fate note o'er-rules; that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Obe.
About note 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 the fresh blood dear:
By some illusion see thou bring her here;
I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear note.
-- 39 --
Puc.
I go, I go; look, how I go;
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.
[Exit.
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 wak'st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Re-enter Puck.
Puc.
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.
Puc.
Then will two, at once, woo one;
That must needs be sport alone:
And those things do best please me,
That befal preposterously. note
Enter 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!
-- 40 --
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.
O Helen, [starting up.] goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyen?
Christal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fan'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 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,14Q0248 as I know you do,
But you must join, in souls, to mock me too?
If you were men note, 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 noble sort,
Would so offend a virgin; and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
-- 41 --
Lys.
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia; this you know I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love, and will do to my note 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 with her note but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd;
And now to Helen is it note home return'd,
There to remain.
Lys.
Helen, it is note not so.
Dem.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it note 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 thy sound. note
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 bare thee made me leave thee so?
Her.
You speak not as you think, it cannot be.
-- 42 --
Hel.
Lo, she is one of this confed'racy!
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 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 sister note vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,—o, and is note all forgot?
All school-day note friendship, childhood 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, and sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union note in partition,
Two lovely berries molded on one stem:
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first,14Q0249 like coats note in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our note 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: 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?
-- 43 --
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 loves, note 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, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back,
Wink each at other, hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carry'd, shall be chronicl'd.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But, fare ye well: 'tis partly mine own note fault;
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.
Lys.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
My love, my life, my soul, note fair Helena!
Hel.
O excellent!
Her.
Sweet, [to Lys.] do not scorn her so.
Dem.
If she cannot note entreat, I can compel.
Lys.
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;
Thy threats have no more strength, than her weak prays. 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.
-- 44 --
Lys.
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Dem.
Quick, come,—
Her.
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Lys.
Away, you Ethiop!
Dem.
No, no; he'll not come.—14Q0250
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 bur: 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 note med'cine! hated potion, hence! note
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; note
Lys.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
Her.
What, can you do me greater harm, than hate?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now, as I was erewhile.
Since night, you lov'd me; yet, since night, you left me:
Why, then you left me,—O, the gods forbid!—
In earnest, shall I say?
Lys.
Ay, by my life;
And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt note,
Be certain, nothing truer, 'tis no jest,
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.
-- 45 --
Her.
O me!—You jugler, you! you canker-blossom!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night,
And stoln my love's heart from him?
Hel.
Fine, i'faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
Her.
Puppet! why so?—Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures, she hath urg'd her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
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 may-pole? 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's something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
Her.
Lower! hark, again.
Hel.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He follow'd you; for love, I follow'd him.
-- 46 --
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.
With note Demetrius.
Lys.
Be not afraid; she shall 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 hind'ring 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 aby it. note
Lys.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Of thine note or mine, is most in Helena.
Dem.
Follow? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
[Exeunt Lysander, and Demetrius.
-- 47 --
Her.
You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:
Nay, go not back.
Hel.
I will not trust you, I;
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer though, to run away.
[Exit.
Her.
I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. note
[Exit.
Obe.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st,
Or else commit'st thy knaveries wilfully. note
Puc.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me, I should know the man
By the Athenian garments he had on? note
And so far blameless proves my enterprize,
That I have 'nointed 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:
Hye 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 &dagger2; herb into Lysander's eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error, with his might, note
And make his eye-balls rowl with wonted sight.
-- 48 --
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.
Puc.
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, wand'ring 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 themselves exile 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 note14Q0251 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 streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day.
[Exit.
Puc.
Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field, and town;
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Enter Lysander.
-- 49 --
Lys.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Puc.
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
Lys.
I will be with thee straight.
Puc.
Follow me then
To plainer ground.
[Exit Lys. as following the Voice, which seems to go off.
Enter Demetrius.
Dem.
Lysander! speak again.
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak. In note some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
Puc.
Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;
I'll whip thee with a rod: He is defil'd,
That draws a sword on thee.
Dem.
Yea; art thou there?
Puc.
Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here.
[Exeunt Puck, and Demetrius.
Re-enter 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:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
That fall'n am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. [lies down] Come, thou gentle day!
For if but once thou shew me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spight.
[sleeps.
Re-enter Puck, and Demetrius.
Puc.
Ho, ho; ho, ho! coward, why com'st thou not?
Dem.
Abide me, if thou dar'st: for well I wot,
Thou run'st before me, shifting every place;
And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face.
-- 50 --
Where art thou now note?
Puc.
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.
[lies down.
By day's approach look to be visited.
[sleeps.
Enter Helena, and throws herself down.
Hel.
O weary night, o long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours; shine, comforts, from the east;
That I may back to Athens, by day-light,
From these that my poor company detest:—
And, sleep, that sometime note shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me a while from mine own company.
[sleeps.
Puc.
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,
Bedabbl'd 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, [lies down] 'till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
[sleeps.
Puc.
On the ground
[to Lysander, whose Eyes he anoints.
Sleep thou sound:
I'll apply
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
-- 51 --
When thou wak'st
Next, thou tak'st 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;
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
[Exit. Scene closes upon the Sleepers.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The same.
The Lovers, at a Distance, asleep.
Enter Queen of Fairies, and Bottom, Fairies attending; Oberon, behind, unseen.
Tit.
Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,
[seating him on a Bank.
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 Pease-blossom?
Pea.
Ready.
Bot.
Scratch my head, Pease-blossom.—Where's mounsieur
Cobweb?
Cob.
Ready.
Bot.
Mounsieur Cobweb; good mounsieur, get your note
weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipt humblebee,
-- 52 --
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 over-flown with a honey-bag, signior.—Where's
mounsieur Mustard-seed?
Mus.
Ready.
Bot.
Give me your nease, note mounsieur Mustard-seed.
Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.
Mus.
What's your will?
Bot.
Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help cavalero note
Cobweb to scratch.14Q0252 I must to the barber's, mounsieur;
for, methinks, I am marvels note hairy about the face: and
I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I
must scratch.
Tit.
What, wilt thou hear some note musick, my sweet love?
Bot.
I have a reasonable good ear in musick: Let
us have the tongs note, and the bones.
Tit.
Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to eat.
Bot.
Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch
your good dry oats. Methinks, I have a great desire to
a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Tit.
I have a vent'rous fairy, that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee thence new nuts.
Bot.
I had rather have a handful, or two, of dry'd
pease. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me;
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Tit.
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone,14Q0253 and be all ways note away.
[Exeunt Fairies.
So doth the wood-bine, the sweet honisuckle,
Gently entwist, the female ivy so
Enring note, the barky fingers of the elm.
-- 53 --
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!
[they sleep.
Oberon advances. Enter Puck.
Obe.
Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight?
[shewing the Queen, and Bottom.
Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours 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 flouriets' eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, beg'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 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, as thou note wast wont to be;
[touching her Eyes with an Herb.
See, as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's note flower
-- 54 --
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tit.
My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought, I was enamour'd of an ass.
Obe.
There † lies your love.
Tit.
How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loath note his visage note now!
Obe.
Silence, a while.—Robin, take off this head note.—
Titania, musick call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the note sense.
Tit.
Musick, ho, musick; such as charmeth sleep!
Puc.
Now note, when thou wak'st note, with thine own fool's eyes peep.
Obe.
Sound, musick. [still Musick.] Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity;
And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair prosperity: note14Q0254
There shall the pairs note of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puc.
Fairy king note, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Obe.
Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's note shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Tit.
Come, my lord; and, in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals, on the ground.
[Exeunt.
-- 55 --
Horns wind within.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, 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 musick of my hounds.—
Uncouple in14Q0255 the western valley; 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 echo in conjunction.
Hip.
I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the boar 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 all note 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-lapt like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge, when you hear. But, soft; [seeing the Lovers.] 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:
-- 56 --
I wonder at their note being here together.
The.
No doubt, they rose up early, to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here, in grace of our solemnity.—
But, speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege.
It is, my lord.
The.
Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
Horns, and Shout, within:
Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, and Helena, wake and start up.
The.
Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past;
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys.
Pardon, my lord.
[He, and the rest, kneel to Theseus.
The.
I pray you all, stand up.
I know, you two are rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
Lys.
My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half-'sleep, half waking: But as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here.
But, as I think, (for truly would I speak;—
And; now I do bethink me, so it is;)
I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might note 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 stoln away, they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me:
You, of your wife; and me, of my consent;
-- 57 --
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 me. note
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But by some power it is) my love to Hermia,
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,
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 note ere I did see Hermia:
But, like a sickness,14Q0256 did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I 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 will hear more note 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, my Hippolita.
[Exeunt The. Hip. Ege. and Train.
Dem.
These things seem small, and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her.
Methinks, I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.
-- 58 --
Hel.
So methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like a gemel note,
Mine own, and not mine own.
Dem.
But are you sure
That we are well awake?14Q0257 it seems note to me,
That yet we sleep, we dream.—Do not you think,
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her.
Yea; and my father.
Hel.
And Hippolita.
Lys.
And he did bid us note follow to the temple.
Dem.
Why then, we are awake: Let's follow him;
And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.
[Exeunt.
As they go out, Bottom wakes.
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! stoln hence, and left me
asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had note a
dream,—past the wit of man to say, what dream it was:
Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound note 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 after death note.
[Exit.
-- 59 --
SCENE II.
Athens. A Room in Quince's House.
Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
Qui.
Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come
home yet?
Sta.
He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is
transported.
Flu.
If he note come not, then the play is mar'd; It goes
not forward, doth it?
Qui.
It is not possible: you have not a man, in all
Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he.
Flu.
No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft
man in Athens.
Qui.
Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very
paramour, for a sweet voice.
Flu.
You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God
bless us! a thing of naught. note
Enter Snug.
Snu.
Masters, the duke is coming from the temple,
and there is two or three lords and ladies more marry'd:
If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made
men.
Flu.
O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence
a day, during his life; he could not have 'scap'd
sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him sixpence
a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hang'd; he would have
deserv'd it: sixpence a day, in Pyramus, or nothing.
Enter Bottom.
Bot.
Where are these lads? where are these hearts?
Qui.
Bottom!—O most courageous day! O most happy
hour!
[All croud about him.
Bot.
Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask
me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true note Athenian.
-- 60 --
I will tell you every thing, right as it note fell out.
Qui.
Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
Bot.
Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is,
that the duke hath dined: Get your apparel together;
good strings to your beards, new ribbands to your
pumps, meet presently at the palace, every man look
o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play
is prefer'd.14Q0258 In any case, let Thisby have clean linnen;
and let not him, that plays the lion, pare his note nails, for
they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most
dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to
utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear
them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away,
go, away.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The same.
A State-Room in Theseus's Palace.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Philostrate, and Attendants.
Hip.
'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
The.
More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables note, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatick, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantick,
-- 61 --
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rowling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, note and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination:
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?
Hip.
But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.
Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
The.
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.—
Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love,
Accompany your hearts!
Lys.
More than to us
Wait on your note royal walks, your board, your bed!
The.
Come now; what masks, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after note-supper, and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.
Phi.
Here, mighty Theseus.
The.
Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
-- 62 --
What mask, what musick? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Phi.
There is a brief, how many sports are ripe; note
[presenting a Paper.
Make choice of which your highness will see first.
The.
The battle with14Q0259 the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceast in beggary.
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.
Merry, and tragical? Tedious, and brief?
That is, hot ice; and wondrous strange black snow.—
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
Phi.
A play it is note, my lord, some ten words long;
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is:
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehearst, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.
-- 63 --
The.
What are they, that do play it?
Phi.
Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds 'till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial. note
The.
And we will hear it.
Phi.
No, my noble lord,
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extreamly stretch'd, and con'd with cruel pain,
To do you service.
The.
I will hear that play:
For never any thing can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in;—and take your places, ladies.
[Exit Philostrate.
Hip.
I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charg'd,
And duty in his service perishing.
The.
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hip.
He says, they can do nothing in this kind.
The.
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake:
And what poor willing duty cannot do,
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver, and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet,
-- 64 --
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-ty'd simplicity,
In least, speak most, to my capacity.
Re-enter Philostrate.
Phi.
So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.
The.
Let him approach.
[Trumpets.
Pyramus, and Thisbe. An Interlude.
Enter Prologue.
&cast;Pro.
&cast;If we offend,14Q0260 it is with our good will.
&cast;That you should think, we come not to offend,
&cast;But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
&cast;That is the true beginning of our end.
&cast;Consider then, we come but in despight.
&cast;We do not come, as minding to content you,
&cast;Our true intent is. All for your delight,
&cast;We are not here. That you should here repent you,
&cast;The actors are at hand: and, by their show,
&cast;You shall know all, that you are like to know.
The.
This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Lys.
He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt;
he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: It is
not enough to speak, but to speak true.
Hip.
Indeed, he hath play'd on this prologue note, like a
child on a recorder note; a sound, but not in government.
The.
His speech was like a tangl'd chain; nothing
impair'd, but all disorder'd. Who is next? note
Enter Pyramus, and Thisbe, Wall, Moon-shine, and Lion, as in dumb Show.
&cast;Pro.
&cast;Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show:
-- 65 --
&cast;But wonder on, 'till truth make all things plain.
&cast;This † man is Pyramus, if you would know;
&cast;This † beauteous lady Thisby is, certáin.
&cast;This man, † with lime and rough-cast, doth present
&cast;Wall, that vile note wall which did these lovers sunder:
&cast;And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
&cast;To whisper; at the which let no man wonder.
&cast;This man, † with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
&cast;Presenteth moon-shine: for, if you will know,
&cast;By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn
&cast;To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
&cast;This grizly beast, † which by name lion hight note,
&cast;The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
&cast;Did scare away, or rather did affright:
&cast;And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall; note
&cast;Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain:
&cast;Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall,
&cast;And finds his trusty Thisby's note mantle slain:
&cast;Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
&cast;He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
&cast;And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
&cast;His dagger drew, and dy'd. For all the rest,
&cast;Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers twain,
&cast;At large discourse, while here they do remain.
[Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moon-shine.
The.
I wonder, if the lion be to speak.
Dem.
No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many
asses do.
&cast;Wal.
&cast;In this same interlude, it doth befal,
&cast;That I, one Snout note by name, present a wall:
&cast;And such a wall, as I would have you think,
&cast;That had in it a crany'd hole, or chink,
-- 66 --
&cast;Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
&cast;Did whisper often very secretly.
&cast;This lome, note this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
&cast;That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
&cast;And this the crany is †, right and sinister,
&cast;Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
The.
Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem.
It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse,
my lord.
The.
Pyramus draws near the wall: silence.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;O grim-look'd night, o night with hue so black,
&cast;O night, which ever art, when day is not;
&cast;O night, o night, alack, alack, alack,
&cast;I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot.—
&cast;And thou, o wall, o sweet, o lovely note wall,
&cast;That stand'st between note her father's ground and mine,
&cast;Thou wall, o wall, o sweet and lovely wall,
&cast;Show me note thy chink, to blink through with mine eyen.
[Wall holds up his Fingers.
&cast;Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
&cast;But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
&cast;O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,
&cast;Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me!
The.
The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse
again.
Bot.
No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me,
is Thisby's cue; she is to enter now, and I am to spy her
through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told
you: yonder she comes.
Enter Thisbe.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
&cast;For parting my fair Pyramus and me:
-- 67 --
&cast;My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones;
&cast;Thy stones with lime and hair knit note up in thee.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;I see a note voice: now will I to the chink,
&cast;To spy an I can hear my note Thisby's face.
&cast;Thisby!
&cast;Thi.
&cast;My love: thou art my love, I think.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace:
&cast;And like Limander14Q0261 am I trusty still.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;And I like note Helen, 'till the fates me kill.
*Pyr.
&cast;Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straitway?
&cast;Thi.
&cast;'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.
&cast;Wal.
&cast;Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
&cast;And, being done, thus wall away doth go.
[Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe.
The.
Now is the mural note down between note the two neighbours.
Dem.
No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful
to rear without warning.
Hip.
This is the silliest stuff that ever note I heard note.
The.
The best in this kind are but shadows: and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Hip.
It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
The.
If we imagine no worse of them, than they of
themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come note
two noble beasts in, a man, and a lion.
Enter Lion, and Moon-shine.
&cast;Lio.
&cast;You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
&cast;The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
-- 68 --
&cast;May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
&cast;When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
&cast;Then know, that I one Snug note the joiner am;
&cast;No lion note fell, nor else no note lion's dam:
&cast;For if I should as lion come in strife
&cast;Into this place, 'twere pity on my note life.
The.
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
Dem.
The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
Lys.
This lion is a very fox for his valour.
The.
True; and a goose for his discretion.
Dem.
Not so, my lord: for his valour cannot carry
his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
The.
His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour;
for the goose carries not the fox.—It is well:
leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to note the moon.
&cast;Moo.
&cast;This lanthorn doth the horned moon present.
Dem.
He should have worn the horns on his head.
The.
He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible
within the circumference.
&cast;Moo.
&cast;This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
&cast;Myself the man i' the moon do seem note to be:
The.
This is the greatest error of all the rest: the
man should be put into the lanthorn; How is it else the
man i' the moon?
Dem.
He dares not come there for the candle: for,
you see, it is already in snuff.
Hip.
I am aweary note of this moon: 'Would, he would change!
The.
It appears, by his small light of discretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet, in courtesy, in all reason,
we must stay the time.
Lys.
Proceed, moon.
Sta.
All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the
-- 69 --
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man i' the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
Dem.
Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for
they are note in the moon. But, silence; here comes Thisbe.
Enter Thisbe.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;This is old Ninny's tomb: note Where is my love?
&cast;Lio.
&cast;Oh.—
[roars. Thisbe runs off.
Dem.
Well roar'd, lion.
The.
Well run, Thisbe.
Hip.
Well shone, moon.—Truly, the moon shines
with a good grace.
The.
Well mous'd, lion.
[Lion shakes Thisbe's Mantle, and Exit.
Dem.
And then came Pyramus.
Lys.
And so the lion vanish'd.
Enter Pyramus.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
&cast;I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright:
&cast;For, by thy gracious,14Q0262 golden, glittering streams, note
&cast;I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. note
&cast;But stay;—O spight!—
&cast;But mark;—Poor knight,
&cast;What dreadful dole is here?
&cast;Eyes, do you see?
&cast;How can it be?
&cast;O dainty duck! O dear!
&cast;Thy mantle good,
&cast;What, stain'd with blood?
&cast;Approach, ye furies note fell!
&cast;O fates, come, come;
&cast;Cut thread and thrum;
&cast;Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!
-- 70 --
The.
This passion, and the death of a dear friend,
would go near to make a man look sad.
Hip.
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
&cast;Pyr.
&cast;O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame?
&cast;Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear:
&cast;Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame,
&cast; That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd, with cheer.
&cast;Come, tears, confound;
&cast;Out, sword, and wound
&cast;The pap of Pyramus:
&cast;Ay, that left pap,
&cast;Where heart doth hop:—
&cast;Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
&cast;Now am I dead,
&cast;Now am I fled;
&cast;My soul is in the sky:
&cast;Tongue, lose thy light!
&cast;Moon, take thy flight!
&cast;Now die, die, die, die, die.
[dies. Exit Moon-shine,
Dem.
No die, but an ace, for him;14Q0263 for he is but one.
Lys.
Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is
nothing.
The.
With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover,
and prove note an ass.
Hip.
How chance moon-shine is gone, before Thisbe
come backs note and finds her lover?
The.
She will find him by star-light. Here she comes;
Enter Thisbe.
and her passion ends the play.
Hip.
Methinks, she should not use a long one, for
such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief.
-- 71 --
Dem.
A moth will turn the balance, which Pyramus,
which Thisbe, is the better. note
Lys.
She hath spyed him already, with those sweet
eyes.
Dem.
And thus she moans note, videlicet.
&cast;Thi.
&cast;Asleep, my love?
&cast;What, dead, my dove?
&cast;O Pyramus, arise,
&cast;Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
&cast;Dead, dead? A tomb note
&cast;Must cover thy sweet eyes.
&cast;These lilly lips, note
&cast;This cherry nose,
&cast;These yellow cowslip cheeks,
&cast;Are gone, are gone:
&cast;Lovers, make moan!
&cast;His eyes were green as leeks.
&cast;O sisters three,
&cast;Come, come, to me,
&cast;With hands as pale as milk;
&cast;Lay them note in gore,
&cast;Since you have shore
&cast;With shears his thread note of silk.
&cast;Tongue, not a word:—
&cast;Come, trusty sword;
&cast;Come, blade, my breast imbrue:
&cast;And farewel, friends:—
&cast;Thus Thisby ends:
&cast;Adieu, adieu, adieu.
[dies.
The.
Moon-shine and lion are left to bury the dead.
Dem.
Ay, and wall too.
Bot.
No, I note assure you; [starting up.] the wall is down
-- 72 --
that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the
epilogue, or to hear a bergomask dance between two of
our company?
The.
No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs
no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all
dead, there need none note to be blamed. Marry, if he that
writ it had play'd Pyramus, and hang'd himself note in Thisbe's
garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it
is, truly; and very notably discharg'd. But, come, your
bergomask: let your epilogue alone.
[Dance: and Exeunt Clowns.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:—
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear, we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have over-watch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The same.
Enter Puck.
Puc.
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls note the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fore-done.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
-- 73 --
Every one lets forth his spright,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolick; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter King and Queen of Fairies, with their Train.
Obe.
Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowzy fire:
Every elf, and fairy spright,
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Tit.
First, rehearse your song note by rote:
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
SONG, and DANCE.
Obe.
Now, until14Q0264 the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue, there create,
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be:
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
-- 74 --
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.—
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gate; note
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace:
Ever shall it safely rest note,
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away;
Make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Train.
Puck, advancing.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (and all is mended)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions note did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
[Exit.
