Imagens das páginas

Kath. O, for your reason! quickly, Sir; I long. Long. You have a double tongue within your mask, And would afford my speechless visor half.

Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman;-is not veal a calf?
Long. A calf, fair lady?

Kath. No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let's part the word.

Kath. No, I'll not be your half:

Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

Long Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp Will you give horns. chaste lady? do not so. [mocks! Kath. Then die a caif before your horns do grow. Long. One word in private with you ere I die. Kath Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry [They converse apart. Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

Above the sense of sense: so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break Biron By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! [off. King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. [Exeunt King, Lords, MOTH, Musicians,

and Attendants.


Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.-Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths pud Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night? Or ever, but in visors, shew their faces? This pert Birón was out of countenance quite. Ros O! they were all in lamentable cases! The king was weeping-ripe for a good word,

Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit. Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword: No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; And trow you what he call'd me?

Prin Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin. Go, sickness as thou art!

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain stat
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn
Prin And quick Birón hath plighted faith
Kath. And Longaville was for my service
Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
Prin. Will they return?

Boyet. They will, they will, God knows;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows
Therefore, change favours: and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in the summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shewn, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Prin Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return' in their own shapes to woo?

Res Good madam, if by me you'll be advised,
Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguised:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were; and to what end
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.
[Exeunt Princess, ROSALINE, KATHARINE,
and MARIA.

Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DOMAIN, in their proper habits.

King. Fair Sir, God save you! Where is the princ ess? Boyet Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [E cit. Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas; And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fa'rs. And we, that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
He can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To shew his teeth as white as whales' bone:
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the Princess, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE,
MARIA, KATHARINE, and Attendants.
Biron. See where it comes!-Behaviour, what wert

Till this man shew'd thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, sweet Madam, and fair time of day!
Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave.
King. We came to visit you; and purpose now

To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then.
Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjured men.
King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nick-name virtue: vice you should have
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. [spoke;
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure

As the unsullied lily, I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking-cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King. O, you have lived in desolation here
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game;

A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King, low. Madam? Russians?

Prin. Ay, in truth, my iʊiu,

Trim gallants, full of courtship nd of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true:-It is not so, my lord; My lady, (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy gives u deserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here with four In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, They did not bless us with one happy word. I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink, Biron. This jest is dry to me.-Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye, By light we lose light: your capacity


Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor
Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye,-
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros. All the fool mine?

Biron. I cannot give you less.

Ros. Which of the visors was it that you wore? [this] Biron. Where? when? what visor? why demand you Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face. [right King. We are descried: they'll mock us now downDum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. [sad! Prin. Amazed, my lord? Why looks your highnes Ros. Help, hold his brows! be'll swoon! Why look Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy [you palet

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury Can any face of brass hold longer out?Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;

And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

O! never will I trust to speeches penn'd,

Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue;

Nor never come in visor to my friend;

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song:

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,

Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:

I do forswear them: and I here protest,

By this white glove, (how white the hand, God knc ws!) Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd

In russet yeas. and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wencn.-so God help me, la!—
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw
Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.
Biron. Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage:-bear with me, I am sick:
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ;—
Write, "Lord have mercy on us," on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us
Biron. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Biron. Peace; for I will not have to do with you. Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

Biron. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. King. Teach us, sweet Madam, for our rude trans Some fair excuse.

Prin. The fairest is confession.

Were you not here but even now, disguised?
King. Madam, I was.

King. I was, fair Madam.


Prin. And were you well advised?

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What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear

As precious eyesight; and did value me
Above this world: adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.

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King. What mean you, Madam? by my life, my troth, I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros. By heaven, you did: and to confirm it plain, You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give;

I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear:What; will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.-
I see the trick on't; -here was a consent
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,-
That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she's disposed,--
Told our intents before: which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn; in will, and error.

Much upon this it is:-And might not you [To Bo nr.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, Sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shro.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet. Full merrily

Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace, I have done.


Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cost. O Lord, Sir, they would know,

Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Biron. What, are there but three?
Cost. No, Sir; but it is vara fine,

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Cost. O Lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors, Sir, will shew whereuntil it doth amount: for any own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man: Pompion the Great, Sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies?

Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. Cost. We will turn it finely off,

some care.

Sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD.

King, Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some


To have one show worse than the king's and his company. King. I say, they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now; That sport best pleases that doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents

Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirta;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.


Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the King, and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?

Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making.

Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch: for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! [Exit ARMADO

King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceived, 'tis not so.

Bion. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy :

Abate a throw at novum: and the whole world again, Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein. King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

[Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c. VINE WORTHIES.


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Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy.

Enter NATHANIEL armed, for Alexander. Nath. "When in the world I lived, I was the world's commander; [might: By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander." Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

Biron. Your nose smells no, in this, most tendersmelling knight.

Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. "When in the world I lived, I was the world's


Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the Great,

Cost. Your servant, and Costárd.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. O, Sir, [TO NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires.] There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see how 'tis;-a little o'erparted.-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort.

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter HOLOFERNES armed, for Judas; and MOTH armed, for Hercules.

Hol. "Great IIercules is presented by this imp, Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus; And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus:

Quoniam, he seemeth in minority;

Ergo, I come with this apology."

Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Exit MOTH. "Judas I am,"

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Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man.-But I will forward with my device. Sweet royalty, [To the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot.

Dum. He may not by the yard.

Arm. "This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,"Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

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Biron. Pompey is moved.-More Atés, more Atés, stir them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in 's belly than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword.-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again.

Dum. Room for the incensed worthies.
Cost. I'll do it in my shirt.

Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? you will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for 't?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a wears next his heart, for a favour.


Mer. God save you, Madam!
Prin. Welcome, Mercade;

But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead, for my life.

Mer. Even so; my tale is told.

Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.

[Exeunt Worthies.

King How fares your majesty?

Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. Prin. Prepare, I say.-I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, The liberal opposition of our spirits: If over-boldly we have borne ourselves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord! A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue: Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

King. The extreme parts of time extremely form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides

That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love,

The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.


Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double.
Biron. Honest, plain words best pierce the ear of
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misoecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make: therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true

To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

Prin. We have received your letters, full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,

As bombast, and as lining to the time:

But more devout than this, in our respects,

Ilave we not been; and therefore met your loves

In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, Madam, shew'd much more than Long. So did our looks.

Ros. We did not quote them so.

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,

Grant us your loves.

Prin. A time, methinks, too short

To make a world-without-end bargain in:

No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this,-
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Ilave brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,

Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instant, shut
My woful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part;
Neither intitled in the other's heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,


The sudden hand of death close up mine eye
Ilence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank;
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-a beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.

Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria?

Mar. At the twelvemonth's end,

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.

Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:

To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain;
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won,)

You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to day,
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,

To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death 1

It cannot be; it is impossible:

Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace

Which shallow-laughing hearers give to fools:

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue

Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,

Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will befall, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the King

King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King. Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end.

Biron. That's too long for a play.


Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,—
Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm. Holla! approach.


This side is IIyems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.

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SCENE I-ATHENS. A Room in the Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants.

The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but O, 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 Four nights will quickly dream away the time; [nights; 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 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.-


Hippolyta, 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 Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint [thee? Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius.-My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her:

tand forth. Lysander;-and, my gracious duke, his 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 fantasy

With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats; 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 it 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 advised, fair maid: you your father should be as a god;

One that composed 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 entreat your grace to pardon me.

I know not by what power I am made bold;

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