Theseus.
Now, fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but oh, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue.

Hip.
Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights,
Four nights will quickly dream away the time:
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

The.
Go, Philostrate,
Stir up th' Athenian youth to merriments,
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth:
Turn melancholly forth to funerals,
The pale companion is not for our pomp.

Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries:
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and 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 bewitch'd the bosom of my child:
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giv'n her rhimes,
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 stoll'n th' impression of her fantasie
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, 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't so she will not here before your Grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege 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.

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 disfigure 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 intreat your Grace to pardon me:
I know not by what pow'r 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, not yielding 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 ^{a note}earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,
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 unwish'd yoak
My soul consents not to give Sov'reignty.

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.

Lys.
I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possest: my love is more than his:
My fortune's ev'ry 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, doats
Devoutly doats, doats in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

The.
I must confess that I have heard so much,

And with Demetrius thought t' 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 your self
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 nuptials, and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns your selves.

Ege.
With duty and desire we follow you. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Manent Lysander and Hermia.

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, which I could well
† ^noteBeteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.

Lys.
Hermia, for ought that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood—

Her.
O cross! too high, to be enthrall'd to love.

Lys.
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years—

Her.
O spight! too old, to be engag'd to young.

Lys.
Or else it stood upon the choice of ^{b note}friends—

Her.
O hell! to chuse love by another's eye.

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 † ^notecollied night,
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n 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 crost,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our tryal 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 remov'd seven 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 ^{c note}to the 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,
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves,

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 than 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. SCENE III. 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 haw-thorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching: oh were favour so,
Your words I'd catch, 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 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.
Oh that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!

Her.
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

Hel.
Oh that my pray'rs 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 none of mine.

Hel.
None but your beauty, would that fault were mine!

Her.
Take comfort; he no more shall see my face,
Lysander and my self will fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to me.
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven into hell?

Lys.
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold;
To-morrow night, when Phœbe doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
(A time that lovers flights doth still conceal)
Through Athens' gate 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 counsels swell'd;
There my Lysander and my self shall meet,
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and strange companions.
Farewel sweet play-fellow; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee ^{d note}thy Demetrius!
Keep word Lysander, we must starve our sight
From lover's food, 'till morrow deep midnight. [Exit Hermia.

Lys.
I will, my Hermia. Helena adieu,
As you on him, Demetrius ^{e note}doat on you! [Exit Lysander.

Hel.
How happy some, o'er othersome 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.
And as he errs, doating on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
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 often is beguil'd.
As waggish boys themselves in game forswear,
So the boy Love is perjur'd every where.
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
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 IV. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Starveling.

Quin.

Is all our company here?

Bot.

You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.

Quin.

Here is the scrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our enterlude before the Duke and the Dutchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot.

First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow on to a point.

Quin.

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 your selves.

Quin.

Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom the weaver.

Bot.

Ready: name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quin.

You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.

Bot.

What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin.

A lover that kills himself most gallantly 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, 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 carr 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.

Quin.

Francis Flute the bellows-mender.

Flu.

Here Peter Quince.

Quin.

You must take Thisby on you.

Flu.

What is Thisby, a wand'ring Knight?

Quin.

It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

Flu.

Nay faith let not me play a woman, I have a beard coming.

Quin.

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.

Quin.

No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you Thisby.

Bot.

Well, proceed.

Quin.

Robin Starvelin the taylor.

Star.

Here Peter Quince.

Quin.

Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snowt the tinker.

Snowt.

Here Peter Quince.

Quin.

You Pyramus's father; my self, Thisby's father; Snug the joiner, you the lion's part; I hope there is a play fitted.

Snug.

Have you the lion's part written? pray you if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.

Quin.

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.

Quin.

If you 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.

All.

That would hang us every mother's son.

Bot.

I grant you friends, if you 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 you an 'twere any nightingale.

Quin.

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?

Quin.

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'd beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin.

Some of your French-crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat 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 we will rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall 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 more obscenely and courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu.

Quin.

At the Duke's oak we meet.

Bot.

Enough, hold or cut bowstrings.