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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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SCENE IX. Enter Oberon and Puck.

Ob.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy knaveries willingly.

Puck.
Believe me, King of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprize,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it did so sort,
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

Ob.
Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight;
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night,
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog as black as Acheron,
And lead these testy rivals so astray
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
'Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep;
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye,
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with its might,
And make his eye-balls rowl with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend
With league, whose date 'till death shall never end.

-- 126 --


Whiles I in this affair do thee imploy,
I'll to my Queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monsters view, and all things shall be peace.

Puck.
My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there
Troop home to church-yards; damned spirits all,
That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone,
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They wilfully exile themselves from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

Ob.
But we are spirits of another sort;
I with the morning-light have oft made sport,
And like a forester the groves may tread,
Ev'n 'till the eastern gate all fiery red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
But notwithstanding haste, make no delay,
We may effect this business yet ere day. [Exit Oberon.

Puck.
Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Enter Lysander.

Lys.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.

Puck.
Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?

Lys.
I will be with thee straight.

Puck.
Follow me then to plainer ground.

-- 127 --

Enter Demetrius.

Dem.
Lysander, speak again;
Thou run-away, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak in some bush: where dost thou hide thy head?

Puck.
Thou coward, art thou c notebragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? come recreant, come thou child,
I'll whip thee with a rod, he is defil'd
That draws a sword on thee.

Dem.
Yea, art thou there?

Puck.
Follow my voice, we'll try no manhood here.
[Exe.

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

Puck.
Ho, ho, ho, coward why com'st thou not?

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

Puck.
Come thou hither, I am here.

Dem.
Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this dear,
If ever I thy face by day-light see.
Now go thy way: faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.
By day's approach look to be visited.
[Lyes down.

-- 128 --

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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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