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.

96

Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, As well possess'd; my love is more than his; 100 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 belov'd of beauteous Hermia.

Why should not I then prosecute my right? 105
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.

110

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

And with Demetrius thought to have spoke

Lys. 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;

145

So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. 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,

150

As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,

155

Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.
Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me,
Hermia.

160

I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of 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 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, 145
Where I did meet thee once with Helena
To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.

My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;

I

Her. My good Lysander! swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow,

Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face;

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210

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!
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold.
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her 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 devis'd to steal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon 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;

213

[SCENE II. Athens. Quince's house.] Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, 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 scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke and [s the Duchess, 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 to a point.

10

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 scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.

Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.

Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.

21

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 gallant for love.

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

Snout. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father. Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's [65 part; and, I hope, here 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 [70 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.”

75

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us, every mother's

man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

91

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 [96 straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny_beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your Frenchcrown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefac'd. [100 But, masters, here 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 moonlight. There will we rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, [108 and our devices known. In the meantime 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 re- [110 hearse most obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.

Quin. At the Duke's oak we meet.
Bot. Enough; hold or cut bow-strings.

ACT II

[Exeun.

For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy stolen 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; 25
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,

I have forsworn his bed and company.

Obe. Tarry, rash wanton! Am not I thy lord?

Tita. Then I must be thy lady; but I know When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, 65 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 steep of 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.

70

Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?

75

100

Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard.
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock,
The nine men's morris 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 cheer;
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 see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set; the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is

which.

And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We

e are their parents and original.

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.

105

110

115

120

125

Tita. 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 conceive And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she with pretty and with swimming gait Following, her womb then rich with my young

squire,

131

135

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.
Obe. How long within this wood intend you
stay?

Tita. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding

day.

In forty minutes.

175

[Exit.]

Obe. 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.

180

185

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,
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 woo'd and were not made to woo.
[Erit Dem.]

240

I'll follow 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.

245