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.

The ousel cock so black of hue.
With orange- tawny bill,

The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill;

[Sings.

Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery

bed?

[Waking. Bot. 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 foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry, cuckoo, never so?

Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamourd 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 pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek,

upon the occasion.

Tita. 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.

Tita. 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.

Peas - blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed!

1 Fai. Ready.

Enter four Fairies.

2 Fai. And I.

3 Fai. And I.

4 Fai. Where shall we go?

Tita. 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 butterflies : To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

1 Fai. Hail, mortal!

2 Fai. Hail!

3 Fai. Hail!

4 Fai. Hail!

Bot. I cry your Worships mercy, heartily. beseech, your Worship's name.

Cob. Cobweb.

Rob. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall

make bold with you.

gentleman ?

Peas. Peas - blossom.

Your name,

honest

Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas - blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I

beseech you, Sir?

Mus. Mustard seed.

Bot. Good master Mustard seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant like, ox beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard - seed.

Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my

The moon,

bower.

methink's, looks with a wat❜ry

eye;

And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.

Tie up my love's tongue, and bring him
silently.
[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

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

Here comes my messenger.

PUCK.

How now, mad spirit?

What night-rule now about this haunted grove?

Puck. 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 now I fixed on his head; Anon, his Thisbe must be answered,

And forth my mimick 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

falls;

one

He murder 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 briers 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 straightway lov'd an ass.
Obe. This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love juice, as I did bid thee do?

Puck.

Puck. I took him sleeping,

too,

that is finish'd

And the Athenian woman by his side;

That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd.

Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA.

Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the

man.

Dem. 0, 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 stol'n 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 displease
Her brother's noon- tide with the Antipodes.
It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look; so dead, so grim.
Dem. So should the murder'd look;

should I,

and so

Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as 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 give his carcase to my hounds.

VOL. III.

9