Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants
Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hourDraws on apace; four happy days bring inAnother moon: but, O, methinks, how slowThis old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,Like to a step-dame or a dowagerLong withering out a young man revenue.
Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;Four nights will quickly dream away the time;And then the moon, like to a silver bowNew-bent in heaven, shall behold the nightOf our solemnities.
Go, Philostrate,Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;Turn melancholy forth to funerals;The pale companion is not for our pomp.Exit PHILOSTRATEHippolyta, 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
Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS
Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
Full of vexation come I, with complaintAgainst 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 man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,And interchanged love-tokens with my child:Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,With feigning voice verses of feigning love,And stolen the impression of her fantasyWith bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengersOf 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 graceConsent 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 gentlemanOr to her death, according to our lawImmediately provided in that case.
What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid:To you your father should be as a god;One that composed your beauties, yea, and oneTo whom you are but as a form in waxBy him imprinted and within his powerTo leave the figure or disfigure it.Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
So is Lysander.
In himself he is;But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,The other must be held the worthier.
I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
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 knowThe worst that may befall me in this case,If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
Either to die the death or to abjureFor 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 earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,Than that which withering on the virgin thornGrows, lives and dies in single blessedness.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,Ere I will my virgin patent upUnto his lordship, whose unwished yokeMy soul consents not to give sovereignty.
Take time to pause; and, by the nest new moon--The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,For everlasting bond of fellowship--Upon that day either prepare to dieFor disobedience to your father's will,Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would;Or on Diana's altar to protestFor aye austerity and single life.
Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yieldThy crazed title to my certain right.
You have her father's love, Demetrius;Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
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 herI do estate unto Demetrius.
I am, my lord, as well derived as he,As well possess'd; my love is more than his;My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,If not with vantage, as Demetrius';And, which is more than all these boasts can be,I am beloved 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,Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
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 yourselfTo 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 Hippolyta: what cheer, my love?Demetrius and Egeus, go along:I must employ you in some businessAgainst our nuptial and confer with youOf something nearly that concerns yourselves.
With duty and desire we follow you.Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale?How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Belike for want of rain, which I could wellBeteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,Could ever hear by tale or history,The course of true love never did run smooth;But, either it was different in blood,--
O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.
Or else misgraffed in respect of years,--
O spite! too old to be engaged to young.
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,--
O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,Making it momentany as a sound,Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;Brief as the lightning in the collied 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.
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,It stands as an edict 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.
A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia.I have a widow aunt, a dowagerOf great revenue, and she hath no child:From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;And she respects me as her only son.There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;And to that place the sharp Athenian lawCannot pursue us. If thou lovest 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 morn of May,There will I stay for thee.
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 Troyan 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.
Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.Enter HELENA
God speed fair Helena! whither away?
Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet airMore tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,Yours would I 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'd give to be to you translated.O, teach me how you look, and with what artYou sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
O that my prayers could such affection move!
The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I love, the more he hateth me.
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
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 paradise to me:O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth beholdHer silver visage in the watery glass,Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.
And in the wood, where often you and IUpon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,There my Lysander and myself shall meet;And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,To seek new friends and stranger companies.Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us;And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sightFrom lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
I will, my Hermia.Exit HERMIAHelena, adieu:As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!Exit
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:And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,So I, admiring of his qualities:Things base and vile, folding 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 judgement taste;Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:And therefore is Love said to be a child,Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,So the boy Love is perjured 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 dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:Then to the wood will he to-morrow nightPursue her; and for this intelligenceIf I have thanks, it is a dear expense:But herein mean I to enrich my pain,To have his sight thither and back again.Exit
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
Is all our company here?
You were best to call them generally, man by man,according to the scrip.
Here is the scroll of every man's name, which isthought fit, through all Athens, to play in ourinterlude before the duke and the duchess, on hiswedding-day at night.
First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treatson, then read the names of the actors, and so growto a point.
Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, andmost cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
A very good piece of work, I assure you, and amerry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth youractors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.
Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
That will ask some tears in the true performing ofit: if I do it, let the audience look to theireyes; I will move storms, I will condole in somemeasure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for atyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part totear a cat in, to make all split.The raging rocksAnd shivering shocksShall break the locksOf prison gates;And Phibbus' carShall shine from farAnd make and marThe foolish Fates.This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players.This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover ismore condoling.
Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Here, Peter Quince.
Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.
That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, andyou may speak as small as you will.
An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'llspeak in a monstrous little voice. 'Thisne,Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, lover dear! thy Thisby dear,and lady dear!'
No, no; you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby.
Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.Tom Snout, the tinker.
You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father:Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, Ihope, here is a play fitted.
Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if itbe, give it me, for I am slow of study.
You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I willdo 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.'
An you should do it too terribly, you would frightthe duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek;and that were enough to hang us all.
That would hang us, every mother's son.
I grant you, friends, if that you should fright theladies out of their wits, they would have no morediscretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate myvoice so that I will roar you as gently as anysucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere anynightingale.
You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is asweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in asummer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man:therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I bestto play it in?
Why, what you will.
I will discharge it in either your straw-colourbeard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grainbeard, or your French-crown-colour beard, yourperfect yellow.
Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, andthen you will play bare-faced. But, masters, hereare your parts: and I am to entreat you, requestyou and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night;and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without thetown, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for ifwe meet in the city, we shall be dogged withcompany, and our devices known. In the meantime Iwill draw a bill of properties, such as our playwants. I pray you, fail me not.
We will meet; and there we may rehearse mostobscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu.
At the duke's oak we meet.
Enough; hold or cut bow-strings.Exeunt
Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK
How now, spirit! whither wander you?
Over hill, over dale,Thorough bush, thorough brier,Over park, over pale,Thorough flood, thorough fire,I do wander everywhere,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 dewdrops hereAnd hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:Our queen and all our elves come here anon.
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 hathA lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;She never had so sweet a changeling;And jealous Oberon would have the childKnight of his train, to trace the forests wild;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 spangled starlight sheen,But, they do square, that all their elves for fearCreep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
Either I mistake your shape and making quite,Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spriteCall'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you heThat frights the maidens of the villagery;Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quernAnd bootless make the breathless housewife churn;And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,You do their work, and they shall have good luck:Are not you he?
Thou speak'st aright;I am that merry wanderer of the night.I jest to Oberon and make him smileWhen I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,In very likeness of a roasted crab,And when she drinks, against her lips I bobAnd on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swearA merrier hour was never wasted there.But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.
And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers
Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers
Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence:I have forsworn his bed and company.
Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?
Then I must be thy lady: but I knowWhen thou hast stolen away from fairy land,And in the shape of Corin sat all day,Playing on pipes of corn and versing loveTo amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,Come from the farthest Steppe of India?But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,To Theseus must be wedded, and you comeTo give their bed joy and prosperity.
How canst thou thus for shame, Titania,Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering nightFrom Perigenia, whom he ravished?And make him with fair AEgle break his faith,With Ariadne and Antiopa?
These are the forgeries of jealousy:And never, since the middle summer's spring,Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,By paved fountain or by rushy brook,Or in the beached margent of the sea,To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,As in revenge, have suck'd up from the seaContagious fogs; which falling in the landHave every pelting river made so proudThat they have overborne their continents:The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green cornHath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;The fold stands empty in the drowned field,And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,And the quaint mazes in the wanton greenFor 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 rheumatic diseases do abound:And thorough this distemperature we seeThe seasons alter: hoary-headed frostsFar in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,And on old Hiems' thin and icy crownAn odorous chaplet of sweet summer budsIs, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer,The childing autumn, angry winter, changeTheir wonted liveries, and the mazed world,By their increase, now knows not which is which:And this same progeny of evils comesFrom our debate, from our dissension;We are their parents and original.
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.
Set your heart at rest:The fairy land buys not the child of me.His mother was a votaress 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 conceiveAnd grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;Which she, with pretty and with swimming gaitFollowing,--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 merchandise.But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;And for her sake do I rear up her boy,And for her sake I will not part with him.
How long within this wood intend you stay?
Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day.If you will patiently dance in our roundAnd see our moonlight revels, go with us;If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.
Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away!We shall chide downright, if I longer stay.Exit TITANIA with her train
Exit TITANIA with her train
Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groveTill I torment thee for this injury.My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberestSince once I sat upon a promontory,And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's backUttering such dulcet and harmonious breathThat the rude sea grew civil at her songAnd certain stars shot madly from their spheres,To hear the sea-maid's music.
That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,Flying between the cold moon and the earth,Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he tookAt a fair vestal throned by the west,And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaftQuench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon,And the imperial votaress 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 laidWill make or man or woman madly doteUpon the next live creature that it sees.Fetch me this herb; and be thou here againEre the leviathan can swim a league.
I'll put a girdle round about the earthIn forty minutes.Exit
Having once this juice,I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.The next thing then she waking looks upon,Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,She shall pursue it with the soul of love:And ere I take this charm from off 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 overhear their conference.Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him
Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood;And here am I, and wode within this wood,Because I cannot meet my Hermia.Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;But yet you draw not iron, for my heartIs true as steel: leave you your power to draw,And I shall have no power to follow you.
Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?Or, rather, do I not in plainest truthTell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?
And even for that do I love you the more.I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,Unworthy as I am, to follow you.What worser place can I beg in your love,--And yet a place of high respect with me,--Than to be used as you use your dog?
Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;For I am sick when I do look on thee.
And I am sick when I look not on you.
You do impeach your modesty too much,To leave the city and commit yourselfInto the hands of one that loves you not;To trust the opportunity of nightAnd the ill counsel of a desert placeWith the rich worth of your virginity.
Your virtue is my privilege: for thatIt 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?
I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.Run when you will, the story shall be changed:Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hindMakes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
I will not stay thy questions; let me go:Or, if thou follow me, do not believeBut I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:We cannot fight for love, as men may do;We should be wood and were not made to woo.Exit DEMETRIUSI'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,To die upon the hand I love so well.Exit
Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love.Re-enter PUCKHast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
Ay, there it is.
I pray thee, give it me.I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,And make her full of hateful fantasies.Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:A sweet Athenian lady is in loveWith a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;But do it when the next thing he espiesMay be the lady: thou shalt know the manBy the Athenian garments he hath on.Effect it with some care, that he may proveMore fond on her than she upon her love:And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.Exeunt
Enter TITANIA, with her train
Come, now a roundel 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 rere-mice for their leathern wings,To make my small elves coats, and some keep backThe clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wondersAt our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;Then to your offices and let me rest.The Fairies singYou spotted snakes with double tongue,Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,Come not near our fairy queen.Philomel, with melodySing in our sweet lullaby;Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:Never harm,Nor spell nor charm,Come our lovely lady nigh;So, good night, with lullaby.Weaving spiders, come not here;Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!Beetles black, approach not near;Worm nor snail, do no offence.Philomel, with melody, & c.
The Fairies sing
Hence, away! now all is well:One aloof stand sentinel.Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleepsEnter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids
Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps
Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids
What thou seest when thou dost wake,Do it for thy true-love take,Love and languish for his sake:Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,Pard, or boar with bristled hair,In thy eye that shall appearWhen thou wakest, it is thy dear:Wake when some vile thing is near.ExitEnter LYSANDER and HERMIA
Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA
Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;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.
Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed;For I upon this bank will rest my head.
One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.
Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!Love takes the meaning in love's conference.I mean, that my heart unto yours is knitSo that but one heart we can make of it;Two bosoms interchained 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.
Lysander riddles very prettily:Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.But, gentle friend, for love and courtesyLie further off; in human modesty,Such separation as may well be saidBecomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
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!
With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!They sleepEnter PUCK
Through the forest have I gone.But Athenian found I none,On whose eyes I might approveThis 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 lieNear this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.Churl, upon thy eyes I throwAll the power this charm doth owe.When thou wakest, let love forbidSleep his seat on thy eyelid:So awake when I am gone;For I must now to Oberon.ExitEnter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running
Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go.Exit
O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!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 oftener 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 DemetriusDo, as a monster fly my presence thus.What wicked and dissembling glass of mineMade me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.Lysander if you live, good sir, awake.
[Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a wordIs that vile name to perish on my sword!
Do not say so, Lysander; say not soWhat though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Content with Hermia! No; I do repentThe tedious minutes I with her have spent.Not Hermia but Helena I love:Who will not change a raven for a dove?The will of man is by his reason sway'd;And reason says you are the worthier maid.Things growing are not ripe until their seasonSo I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;And touching now the point of human skill,Reason becomes the marshal to my willAnd leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlookLove's stories written in love's richest book.
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 confessI thought you lord of more true gentleness.O, that a lady, of one man refused.Should of another therefore be abused!Exit
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there:And never mayst thou come Lysander near!For as a surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings,Or as tie heresies that men do leaveAre hated most of those they did 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 mightTo honour Helen and to be her knight!Exit
[Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy bestTo pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!Ay 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 smiling at his cruel pray.Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear;Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.No? then I well perceive you all not nighEither death or you I'll find immediately.Exit
Are we all met?
Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient placefor our rehearsal. This green plot shall be ourstage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and wewill do it in action as we will do it before the duke.
What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
There are things in this comedy of Pyramus andThisby that will never please. First, Pyramus mustdraw a sword to kill himself; which the ladiescannot abide. How answer you that?
By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Not a whit: I have a device to make all well.Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem tosay, we will do no harm with our swords, and thatPyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the morebetter assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am notPyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put themout of fear.
Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall bewritten in eight and six.
No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
I fear it, I promise you.
Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: tobring in--God shield us!--a lion among ladies, is amost dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearfulwild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought tolook to 't.
Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Nay, you must name his name, and half his face mustbe seen through the lion's neck: and he himselfmust speak through, saying thus, or to the samedefect,--'Ladies,'--or 'Fair-ladies--I would wishYou,'--or 'I would request you,'--or 'I wouldentreat you,--not to fear, not to tremble: my lifefor yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, itwere pity of my life: no I am no such thing; I am aman as other men are;' and there indeed let him namehis name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things;that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for,you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.
Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; findout moonshine, find out moonshine.
Yes, it doth shine that night.
Why, then may you leave a casement of the greatchamber window, where we play, open, and the moonmay shine in at the casement.
Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thornsand a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or topresent, the person of Moonshine. Then, there isanother thing: we must have a wall in the greatchamber; for Pyramus and Thisby says the story, didtalk through the chink of a wall.
You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
Some man or other must present Wall: and let himhave some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-castabout him, to signify wall; and let him hold hisfingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramusand Thisby whisper.
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 yourspeech, enter into that brake: and so every oneaccording to his cue.Enter PUCK behind
Enter PUCK behind
What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,So near the cradle of the fairy queen?What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.
Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,--
--odours savours sweet:So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile,And by and by I will to thee appear.Exit
A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here.Exit
Must I speak now?
Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goesbut to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,As true as truest horse that yet would never tire,I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak thatyet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all yourpart at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cueis past; it is, 'never tire.'
O,--As true as truest horse, that yet wouldnever tire.Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head
Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head
If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray,masters! fly, masters! Help!Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.Exit
Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them tomake me afeard.Re-enter SNOUT
O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee?
What do you see? you see an asshead of your own, doyou?Exit SNOUTRe-enter QUINCE
Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou arttranslated.Exit
I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me;to fright me, if they could. But I will not stirfrom this place, do what they can: I will walk upand down here, and I will sing, that they shall hearI am not afraid.SingsThe ousel cock so black of hue,With orange-tawny bill,The throstle with his note so true,The wren with little quill,--
[Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
[Sings]The finch, 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 foolisha bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry'cuckoo' never so?
I pray thee, gentle mortal, 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 meOn the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
Methinks, mistress, you should have little reasonfor that: and yet, to say the truth, reason andlove keep little company together now-a-days; themore the pity that some honest neighbours will notmake them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get outof this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
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 soThat thou shalt like an airy spirit go.Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED
Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED
Where shall we go?
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 thighsAnd light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,To have my love to bed and to arise;And pluck the wings from Painted butterfliesTo fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech yourworship's name.
I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good MasterCobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold withyou. Your name, honest gentleman?
I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, yourmother, and to Master Peascod, your father. GoodMaster Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of moreacquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well:that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hathdevoured many a gentleman of your house: I promiseyou your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. Idesire your more acquaintance, good MasterMustardseed.
Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,Lamenting some enforced chastity.Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently.Exeunt
I wonder if Titania be awaked;Then, what it was that next came in her eye,Which she must dote on in extremity.Enter PUCKHere comes my messenger.How now, mad spirit!What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
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 playIntended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,Who Pyramus presented, in their sportForsook his scene and enter'd in a brakeWhen 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 mimic 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 murder cries and help from Athens calls.Their sense thus weak, lost with their fearsthus strong,Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders allthings 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 waked and straightway loved an ass.
This falls out better than I could devise.But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyesWith the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
I took him sleeping,--that is finish'd too,--And the Athenian woman by his side:That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS
Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS
Stand close: this is the same Athenian.
This is the woman, but not this the man.
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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 dayAs he to me: would he have stolen awayFrom sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soonThis whole earth may be bored and that the moonMay through the centre creep and so displeaseHer brother's noontide with Antipodes.It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
So should the murder'd look, and so should I,Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
What's this to my Lysander? where is he?Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the boundsOf maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?Henceforth be never number'd among men!O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?An adder did it; for with doubler tongueThan thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
You spend your passion on a misprised mood:I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
An if I could, what should I get therefore?
A privilege never to see me more.And from thy hated presence part I so:See me no more, whether he be dead or no.Exit
There is no following her in this fierce vein:Here therefore for a while I will remain.So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier growFor debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe:Which now in some slight measure it will pay,If for his tender here I make some stay.Lies down and sleeps
Lies down and sleeps
What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quiteAnd laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight:Of thy misprision must perforce ensueSome true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true.
Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
About 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.
I go, I go; look how I go,Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.Exit
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 gloriouslyAs the Venus of the sky.When thou wakest, if she be by,Beg of her for remedy.Re-enter PUCK
Captain of our fairy band,Helena is here at hand;And the youth, mistook by me,Pleading for a lover's fee.Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Stand aside: the noise they makeWill cause Demetrius to awake.
Then will two at once woo one;That must needs be sport alone;And those things do best please meThat befal preposterously.Enter LYSANDER and HELENA
Enter LYSANDER and HELENA
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?Scorn and derision never come in tears:Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,In their nativity all truth appears.How can these things in me seem scorn to you,Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
You do advance your cunning more and more.When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er?Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.
I had no judgment when to her I swore.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
[Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in showThy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crowWhen thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kissThis princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bentTo set against me for your merriment:If you we re civil and knew courtesy,You would not do me thus much injury.Can you not hate me, as I know you do,But you must join in souls to mock me too?If you were men, as men you are in show,You would not use a gentle lady so;To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.You both are rivals, and love Hermia;And now both rivals, to mock Helena:A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyesWith your derision! none of noble sortWould so offend a virgin, and extortA poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
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 till my death.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,And now to Helen is it home return'd,There to remain.
Helen, it is not so.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.Re-enter HERMIA
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 recompense.Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy soundBut why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
What love could press Lysander from my side?
Lysander's love, that would not let him bide,Fair Helena, who more engilds the nightThan all you fiery oes and eyes of light.Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
You speak not as you think: it cannot be.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all threeTo fashion this false sport, in spite of me.Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!Have you conspired, have you with these contrivedTo bait me with this foul derision?Is all the counsel that we two have shared,The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,When we have chid the hasty-footed timeFor parting us,--O, is it all forgot?All school-days' 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, our sides, voices and minds,Had been incorporate. So we grow together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition;Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,Due but to one and crowned with one crest.And will you rent our ancient love asunder,To join with men in scorning your poor friend?It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,Though I alone do feel the injury.
I am amazed at your passionate words.I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,To follow me and praise my eyes and face?And made your other love, Demetrius,Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he thisTo her he hates? and wherefore doth LysanderDeny your love, so rich within his soul,And tender me, forsooth, affection,But by your setting on, by your consent?What thought I be not so in grace as you,So hung upon with love, so fortunate,But miserable most, to love unloved?This you should pity rather than despise.
I understand not what you mean by this.
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 carried, shall be chronicled.If you have any pity, grace, or manners,You would not make me such an argument.But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault;Which death or absence soon shall remedy.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:My love, my life my soul, fair Helena!
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.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.
I say I love thee more than he can do.
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Away, you Ethiope!
No, no; he'll [ ]Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow,But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!
Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?Sweet love,--
Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!
Do you not jest?
Yes, sooth; and so do you.
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
I would I had your bond, for I perceiveA weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
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 loved me; yet since night you leftme:Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!--In earnest, shall I say?
Ay, by my life;And never did desire to see thee more.Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jestThat I do hate thee and love Helena.
O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!You thief of love! what, have you come by nightAnd stolen my love's heart from him?
Fine, i'faith!Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tearImpatient answers from my gentle tongue?Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.Now I perceive that she hath made compareBetween our statures; she hath urged her height;And with her personage, her tall personage,Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.And are you grown so high in his esteem;Because I am so dwarfish and so low?How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;How low am I? I am not yet so lowBut that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;I have no gift at all in shrewishness;I am a right maid for my cowardice:Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,Because she is something lower than myself,That I can match her.
Lower! hark, again.
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;But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd meTo 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 backAnd follow you no further: let me go:You see how simple and how fond I am.
Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you?
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
What, with Lysander?
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
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.
'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'!Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?Let me come to her.
Get you gone, you dwarf;You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made;You bead, you acorn.
You are too officiousIn her behalf that scorns your services.Let her alone: speak not of Helena;Take not her part; for, if thou dost intendNever so little show of love to her,Thou shalt aby it.
Now she holds me not;Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole.Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS
Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS
You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:Nay, go not back.
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
I am amazed, and know not what to say.Exit
This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.Did not you tell me I should know the manBy the Athenian garment be had on?And so far blameless proves my enterprise,That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;And so far am I glad it so did sortAs this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight:Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;The starry welkin cover thou anonWith drooping fog as black as Acheron,And lead these testy rivals so astrayAs 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 sleepWith 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 his might,And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.When they next wake, all this derisionShall 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,I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;And then I will her charmed eye releaseFrom monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
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, wandering here and there,Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,That in crossways and floods have burial,Already to their wormy beds are gone;For fear lest day should look their shames upon,They willfully themselves exile from lightAnd must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
But we are spirits of another sort:I with the morning's love have oft made sport,And, like a forester, the groves may tread,Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:We may effect this business yet ere day.Exit
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.Re-enter LYSANDER
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
I will be with thee straight.
Follow me, then,To plainer ground.Exit LYSANDER, as following the voiceRe-enter DEMETRIUS
Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice
Lysander! speak again:Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
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 defiledThat draws a sword on thee.
Yea, art thou there?
Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here.ExeuntRe-enter LYSANDER
He goes before me and still dares me on:When I come where he calls, then he is gone.The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I:I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;That fallen am I in dark uneven way,And here will rest me.Lies downCome, thou gentle day!For if but once thou show me thy grey light,I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.SleepsRe-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS
Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS
Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?
Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wotThou runn'st before me, shifting every place,And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.Where art thou now?
Come hither: I am here.
Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,If ever I thy face by daylight see:Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth meTo measure out my length on this cold bed.By day's approach look to be visited.Lies down and sleepsRe-enter HELENA
O weary night, O long and tedious night,Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east,That I may back to Athens by daylight,From these that my poor company detest:And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,Steal me awhile from mine own company.Lies down and sleeps
Yet but three? Come one more;Two of both kinds make up four.Here she comes, curst and sad:Cupid is a knavish lad,Thus to make poor females mad.Re-enter HERMIA
Never so weary, never so in woe,Bedabbled 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 till the break of day.Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!Lies down and sleeps
On the groundSleep sound:I'll applyTo your eye,Gentle lover, remedy.Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyesWhen thou wakest,Thou takestTrue delightIn the sightOf 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
Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes