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A
M I DSU M M E R-N I G III S
I) K E A .M
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED FREDERICKS.
N I W YORK:
l>. VPPLETON \\h COMPANY,
Si DWAY.
Ml" i < LXXIV.
j
J ct ol Con ress, in the year 1873, ;:, D \rri 1 PON 8 CO., In the Office of the ] 1 W
•
PERSONS OF THE DMMA.
'I'm si i 5, /'■''' '' Xthens. ath i to Hi RMIA. LYSAND1 R, I /fl /(,:. .,,//; ||, kmi\. Hi \ii i i
Philosi R \ki , Master of the Revels to Thesei Quince, a Carpenter. S\i g, a 7 Bottom, o "
111 II,' /■': .'■':. --''.■< /;</<>-.
SNOt i , " Tinker.
i ING, ./ Tailor. Hippolyta, Queen of the .Amazons, betrothed to
Hi rmia, in love with Lys/
./// Demetrii .
in, King of the Fairies. •| 1 1 w . the Fairies. Puck, < sllow.
Cobw I B,
Moi ii,
D-SEED,
Fairies.
I'YK Wit 5,
Thisbe,
V* u i.
MOONSHINl .
Characters in the Tnterlua formed by the " rude mechanicals."
Other Fairies attending tluir Kin^' and Queen. Attendants on I in sei s and Hippoi \ i \-
SCENE. - ATHENS ; AND
A WOOD NEAR IT.
,1 I —A rHENS. . ' Room in the Palace of THESE1 S.
| 1 1 [ppolyta, Ph I Attendants.
The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour I )rav < happy days bring in
Another moon: but. oh, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! >1k- lingers my desii
MIDSl 'MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Like to a step-dame, 01 a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue.
////. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities.
The. Go, Philostr'ate,
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 Philostrate,
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; Hut 1 will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling,
Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, ./»</ Demetrius.
Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
Ege. Full of \e\ation come I, with complaint Against 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 hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child : — rhou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child : Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n th' impression oi 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 flleh'd my daughter's heart ; Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, To stubborn harshness: — and, my gracious duke, He it so she will not here before your grace Con nt to marry with Demetrius,
MIPS I MM I R \/i ,11 rs ORE AM.
A.oSe
I beg the ancient priv- ilege of Athens, — As she is mine, I may dispose of her: Which shall be either to this gentle- man, Or to her death, according to our law Immediately provided in thai
The. What say you, I Urmia? be ad- \ is'd, fair maid : To you your father should be as a god ; ( >ik- that compos'd your beauties; yea,
.mil one To whom you are but as a form in wax,
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
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. 1 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 know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
The. Either to die the death, or to abjure For 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 thorn, Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
The. Take time to pause ; and, by the next new moon, The sealing-day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship, — Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will,
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM.
( >r else to wed I lemetrius, as he would ; n I liana's altar to prol
i terity and single life.
Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia: — and, l.\ sandi I h\ i raz< d title to mj i ertain right.
/. ys You ha\ e her fathei 's love, Di metrius ; 1 ., t me have 1 lermia's : do you many him.
Scornful Lysanderl true, he hath my love, — And what is mine my love shall render him; And she is mine, .tntl all my right of her 1 d.> estate unto I >emetrius.
Lys I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, As well possess'd; my love is more than his; My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd (It not with van' metrius' ;
And. whirh is more than all these boasts can be, I am belov'd 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 huh-, dotes, Devoutly dote-, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
The. 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 your arm yourself To 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 business Against our nuptial ; and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
Ege. With duty and desire we follow you.
[Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, Demetrius, ami trai
I. vs. I low now, in)- love ! Why is your cheek so pale ? How chance the roses there do fade so fast ?
Her. Belike, for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.
Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth ; But, either it was different in blood, —
Her. O cross ! too high to be enthrall'd to low !
Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years, —
Her. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young !
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends, —
Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eye !
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:
MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS r>Kl I w.
' 5
So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If, then, true lovers have been ever cro-
nds .1- .hi edict in destiny : Then let u^ teach our trial patience,
ise it is a customary cro .\^ due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and
Wishes, and tears, pi
lasion: therefore, hear me, I [i rmia.
I ha\ e a \\ idow aim;, a iluu
at revenue, and she hath no child:
H
MIDSl 'MATER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
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, Where I did meet thee once with Helena, To do observance to a morn of May, There will I stay for thee.
Her. 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 Trojan 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.
I. vs. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
Enter HELENA.
Her. God speed fair Helena ! Whither away ?
Hel. 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 air More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching : O, were favor so, Yours would I catch, fair Hermia ! ere I go, My car 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'll give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look ; and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart !
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
MIDSUMMER- NIGHT'S DREAM.
• that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill ! yet he gives me love. that my prayers could such affection move! //■> 1 In- more I hate, the more he follows me.
16 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
Hel. None, but your beauty : would that fault were mine !
Her. Take comfort : he no more shall see my face ; Lysander and myself will fly this place. — Before the time I did Lysander sec, 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 wat'ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights cloth still conceal,) Through Athens' -ate- have we devis'd to steal
Her. .And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose-beds wire 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 sight From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
Lys. I will, my Hermia. — [Exit HERM.] Helena, adieu: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! [Exit.
Hel. I low 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;
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 17
He will not know, what .ill bul he do know ,
Am! as he en . doting on Hermia's eyes,
St. 1. admiring of In- qualiti
[Tiings base and (rile, holding no quantity,
Love cm tr.m po 1 to form and dignity :
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing*d Cupid painted blind:
N01 hath Love's mind ol an) judgment I
\\ im , and no 1 unheedy ha b
And therefore is Lovi aid to b 1 1 hild,
te in choice he is so oft beguil'd. A^ waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boj Lovei perjur'd every wh( For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's 1 He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, S.. he dissolvM, and showei oi oath did melt. I wiU go tell him of fair Hermia's flight : Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night, Pursue her ; and for this intelligem 1 It" I have thanks, u expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. lExit.
18
,l///'.s7 "MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
SCENE II. — The Same. A Room in QUINCE'S House.
Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Si \i;\ i ling.
Oh in. Is all our company here ?
Bo/. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
Ouiii. Hen- is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit. through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess on his wedding-day at night.
Bo/. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on ; then read the names of the actors ; and so grow to a point.
Ouiii. Marry, our play is — The most lamentable coined}-, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
/•V/. A very good piece of work, 1 assure you, and a merry. — Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. — Masters, spread your- selves.
Ouiii. Answer, as I call you. — Nick Bottom, the weaver.
Bo/. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Ouiii. N'ou, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
A','/. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
Ouiii. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.
Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes ; I will move storms, I will condole in some
i///'.W l/i// A' XIGHrS DREAM.
19
measure I" thi rest: — yet my chief humor is for a tyrant : I could play rarely, or .1 part to tear a cat in, to make all split.
I he racing rocks And shivering shocks Shall hr. ak th 1 if pi
And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far, And make and mar lln foolish fates."
vas lofty! — Now name the res! of the players. — This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein ; — a lover is more condoling.
I ' m< i- Flute, the- bellows-mender.
Y"ii must t.t k ■ ■ Thisby on you.
/•'///. What a wandering knight ?
lady that Pyramus must l< 1 N ■ . faith, lei ii"t me play a woman ; I ha
MIDSl 'MMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
Oiiin. That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice; — "Thisne, Thisne " — " Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear ! "
Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus: — and, Flute, you Thisby.
Bot. Well, proceed.
Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Star. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. — Tom Snout, the tinker.
Snout. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You, Pyramus's father ; — myself, Thisby's father ; — Snug, the join- er, you, the lion's 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 nothing but roaring.
Bot. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that I will do any man's
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM. 21
heart g 1 t" hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duki
him roar again, let him n tar again."
(Jniii An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess .tiul tlie- ladies, that they would shriek ; and that were enough to hang u
All. That would hang us, every mother's son.
i at you, friend-, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggra- vate m\ voice so, that I will roar you as gently a> any sucking dove ; I will mar you an 'twere any nightil
Quin. \ 'mi ran play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramu t-faced
man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, gentlemanlike man: therefore, you must need- play Pyramus.
Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best t<> play it in ? Quin. Why, what you will
I will discharge it in either your straw-color beard, your orange - tau.iy beard, your purple-ingrain beard, or your Frcnch-crown-color beard, y-iur perfect yellow,
Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. — But masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and de-ire you, to con them by to-morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light ; there will we rehearse. — for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with com- pany, ami our devices known. In the meantime, I will draw a bill of prop- -uch as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
We will meet ; and there we ma)' rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains ; be perfect; adieu. \n. At the duke's oak we meet. ' Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — A Wood mar ATHENS.
Enter ,: Fairy and Pick, from .; j
Pink. 1 low now, spirit! whither wander you?
.i///'.s/ mmi A' _..\ /,,/// \S DREAM.
I u 1 1 lull, over dale,
Hiorough hush, thorough brier,
park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough lire, I do wander every \\ b Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I sen > the fairy queen,
,>. In r orbs upon the green : lln : -II lu'i pensioners be ;
In tin ii gold i ".it- spots j "u see ; [Tic i be rubies, fairy favors, In those freckles live their savors; I inn • i ime dew-drops here,
And hang .1 pearl in every cowslip' Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: ( Hir queen and all her 1 here anon.
Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night : heed the quern u.iik nd within his sight; fell and wrath,
Because that She, as her attendant, hath
A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king; She never h
And jealous < )beron would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
Hut she. perforce, withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove 01 n en, By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen, But they do square; that all their elves, for fear, into acorn cups, and hide them there. Fat. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, 1 >r 1 bse \ "ii are that shrewd and kna\ ish spi Call'd Robin Good-fellow: are vim not he
23
24
MI DSL 'MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
That flights the maidens of the villagery ; Skims milk, and sometime labors in the quern, And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn And sometimes makes the drink to bear no barm ; Misleads 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 ?
Puck. Thou speak'st aright ;
I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile. When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
MIDSUMMER-X1GHT& DR
25
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 bob, And <>n her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. The widest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime f<>r three-foot stool mistaketh me; ["hen slip I from her bum, down topples sin-, And "tailor" cries, and falls into a cough; .\\v\ then the whole quire hold their hips, and lofl And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. — But, room, Fairy! here comes Oberon.
Fat. And here my mistress. — Would that he were gone
26 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
SCENE W.— Thc same.
Enter Oberon from one side, with Ins train; and TlTANIA from the other, with hers.
Obc. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.
Tita. What, jealous Oberon ! Fairies, skip hence : I have forsworn his bed and company.
Obc. Tarry, rash wanton : am not I thy lord ?
Tita. Then, I must be thy lady : but I know When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land, 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.
Obc. 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 night From Perigenia, whom he ravished ? And make him with fair /Egle break his faith, With Ariadne, and Antiopa ?
Tita. 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 on 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 sea Contagious fogs ; which, falling in the land, Have every pelting river made so proud, That they have overborne their continents : The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, The ploughman lost his sweat ; and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard :
A///>S( 'MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
27
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And 1 rows arc fatted with the murrain flock;
28 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
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 here ;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest: —
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Tale 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 II vein's chin, and icy crown.
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
[s, as in mocker}-, 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 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.
Tita. Set your heart at rest :
The fairy land buys not the child of me. Mis 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 th' 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 bellowing, (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 merchandize. Hut she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
M/l>M MMER NIGHT'S DRE I VI.
29
X 1 1 ■ 1 (i >i her sake I do rear u| ■ hei boj . Ami for her sake I will nol pari with him.
How long within this wood intend you taj ' Pen hance till aftei I he leu [f > mi will patiend) dam e in oui round, And see our moonlight revels, go with us; [fnot, shun me, .m<l I will spare your haunts.
Give me that boy, and 1 will go with thee Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. — Fairies, away ! \\ ■ shall chide downright, if I longer stay.
[Exit TlTANIA, with her Irani.
Wi II. go thy way: thou shall not from this grove, Till I torment thee for this injury. —
it K- Puck, come hither. Thou remember'st Since once I -~.it upon .1 promontory, And heard a mermaid, on .1 dolphin's hack, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, I'h. a the rudi 1 i\ il -it hei
And certain stars shot madly from their
--ph. To hear the sea-maid's musii
I remember. I
30
J//AS7 ' MMER-NIGHVS DREAM.
Obe. That very time I saw (but thou could'st not), Flying between the cold moon ami the earth, Cupid all arm'd :*a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: Hut I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench* d in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon, And the imperial votaress passed on. In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd 1 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 show'd thee once: The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid,
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
M
Will make or man 01 woman madly dote Upon tlu- next live creature that it F< ti li me tin ■ herb ; and be thou here he \c\ iathan i an sw im .1 lea
Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. I
Obe. 1 l.i\ in;; on< e this jui< e,
I'll watch lit. mi. i when -.lu- is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then sin- waking looks upon, (Be it on lion, hen, 01 wolf, or bull, ( >n meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) Sin- shall pursue it with the soul of love: And ere 1 take this charm off from her sight, (As I can take it with another herb) I'll make her render up her p Hut who i omes here ? I am invisible ; And i will Over-hear their conference.
I 1 him.
Dm: I love th- 1 not, therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia? The one I'll slay, the other slayeth mc. Thou told'st me they wen- stol'n into this wood; And here am I, and wood within this wood,
annot meet my I lermia. Hence I get thee gone, and follow me no more.
//</. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; Hut yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is tm leave you your power to draw,
And 1 shall have no power to follow you.
A in. Do I entice you ? Do 1 speak you fair? < >r, rather, do I not in plainest truth Tel] you, I do nol nor I ( annot love you ?
//, /. And even for that do 1 love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
>ur spaniel, spurn me, strike me, in' , only give me l< ave,
32
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DRl \M
I'b'i/iP:" ' ' nworthy as I am, to follow you.
j. What worser place can I beg in your love, I ( \nd yet a place of high respect with me,)
l'N"//
hau to be used as you use your dog? Dent. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit ;
MIDSUMMER .WIGHTS DREAM.
33
1 "i I .mi sick wlii n I do 1( iok on I
//,/ And 1 .mi sick when I l<><>k m>t on you.
Dem. \ "u do impeach your modesty too much, ! the and i ommit you
Ini'i the hands ol one that loves you not; I o trust the opportunity of night, And the ill coun ert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.
//, ■/. Your virtue is my privilege for that h i- not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am nol in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company. For you, in m\ i all the world :
Then how can it be said I am alone, When .ill the world i-- here to look on me ?
/. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild be
//(/. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be chang'd, — Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursue-, the griffin ; the mild hind
: tn catch tin- tiger, — bootli When cowardice pursues, and valor- flies!
Dem. I will not stay thy questions; let me go: < >r, if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
lid Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, Vbu do me mischief Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : \\ . i annot h^ht for love, as men may do; We should be woo'd, m\k\ were not made to woo. I'll follow thee, auA in ' n of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well. [Exeunt Dem.
I <■■ thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, rhou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. —
iter Pi i k.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wand' Ay, then
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DRL \M
,*
Ode. I pray thee, give
it me. 1 know a hank where
thyme blows, Where ox-lips, and the nodding
_ violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious
woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : There sleeps lit una some time of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; And there the snake throws her enamel'd skin. Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in: Ami with the juice of tins I'll streak her eyes, And make her full of hateful fantasies, lake thou some of it, and seek through this grove : \ sweet Athenian lady is in love With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; But do it. when the next thing he espies May he the lady. Thou shah know the man \\\ the Athenian garments he hath on Effect u with some care, that he may prove More fond on her, than she upon her love: And look thou meet me ere the first eock crow. Pink. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.
Mlpsi MMi ' U -X/U/J r ■ DHL IU
35
X
'■_;>
*$fl*
III —Another part oj lit, If..:/. i •</ her train.
■ Come, now ■> roundel, and ■> fairy song; I hen, i"i tli-- third part of i minute, hem
|6
.UZ/i.si MMER V/GHT'S DR1 ' I/.
Some, tn Kin cankers in the musk rose
ds; Some, war with reai mice foi their
leathern wings, l\> make my small elves coats ; and
some, keep back rhe clamorous owl, that nighd) hoots,
and wonders \t our quaint spirits. Sing me now
asleep ; riu-n to your offices, and let me r<
■ MS,
MIDSUMMER \h.ll r ■ Dl
37
I /in. . with doubli
I hoi
Philomi l, with in
>in^ in our iweel lull. i l.ull.i, lull ilia, lulla, lullaby:
I il.lllll. pi li nor i barm,
Fat. \'.
, hence !
i ul. do ii" ofl
ith mi lod) .
Lulla, lulla. lullaby ; lulla, lulla. lull harm,
inn,
;S
.U//>M 'MMER-NIGHTS ORE. IM.
i Fat. Hence, away! now all is well.
('Mr. aloof, stand sentinel. [Exeunt Fairies
TlTANM
Enter < >UI RON.
i ', ■. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
<j» Tl i ania's eyelids. Do it for thy true Io\ e take ; Love, and languish for his sake: Be it ounce, or cat, or Pard, or hoar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wak'st, it is thy dear Wake when some vile thing is near. {Exit.
1 ys iM'ii; and Hermia.
Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; And to speak troth, 1 have forgot our way: We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed ; For I upon this bank will rest my head.
Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both ; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
.!///'■/ MMI R \ /',/// : I'KI A W.
\'Y
// i Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, I . do ii"t lie so near. ' i, take th i my inno< ence !
•'" mi tning in lo\ - ' i onference. I mi an, that my heart unto yours is knit, it but one heart we can make of it: lw" bosoms interchained with an oath . So then, two bosoms, and a single truth I li' -ii, by your side no I x< 1 i ny ;
For, lying o, I lermia, I '1" n<
Her Lysander riddles very prettily: — Now much beshn w my manner- and my prii It I lermia meant I I ander lied,
ntle friend, for love and cou in human modesty, Sin h separation as may well be said
irtuous bai helor and a maid, —
40
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
So i. u be distant ; and, good night, weel friend, l'liy love ne'er alter till thy sweel life end!
Lys. Amen, amen, to thai fail prayer, say I; Ami then end life, when I end loyalty ' Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest !
Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd I |
rhrough the forest have 1 gone, But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes 1 might approve This flower's force in stirring love \i In .unl silence ' who is here ? \\ eeds of Athens he doth wear : rin s is he. my master said, Despised the Athenian maid ; .And here the maiden, sleeping sound. ( )n the d.mk and dirty ground : — Pretty soul ! she durst not lie \e.ii this lack-love, this kill courtesj
Churl, upon thy eyes 1 throw
Lysandef All the power this charm doth owe. When thou wak'st, let Un e forbid Sleep his seat ow thy eyelid : So awake w hen I am gone, For 1 must now to ( )beron. 1 1 < t.
Dei Helena, num
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me. sweet Demetrius.
I charge thee, hence ; and o\o not haunt me thus. Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me ? o\o not so.
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. | , Demi rRius.
//.-.'. 0, 1 am out o( breath in this fond chase ! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
• is I lei mi.i. w heresoe'ei lie lies ; For she hath blessed and attractive eyi How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears : If so, my eves are oftener wash'd than her--
,I///'W MM! /,' \ /,,/// />
41
No, ii'i, I ani i boar
thai Mi' el me, run away f n
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
I hi n fore no marvel though Demetrius l>n, .is ,i monster, fly my presence thus. \\ hat \\ icked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ? — lint who is here? — Lysander! mi the ground ! Dead ' oi asleep ? — 1 sir no blood, no wound. — I ysander, if you live, good Sir, awake.
I vs. \Awaking^\ .And run through tire I will, for thy sweet sake Transparent Helena ! Nature here shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how tit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword !
ILL Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. What though he love your Hermia ? Lord, what though ? Yet Hermia still lo\os you : then he content.
Lys, Content with Hermia! No; I do repent The tedious minutes 1 with her have spent. Not I termia, but 1 felena 1 lo\ e : \\ ho will not change a raven tor a dove ? I he will of man is by his reason sway'd ; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season : S>>, I being young, till now ripe not to reason; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will, And leads me to your eyes ; when I o'i I stories, written in love's richest book.
ILL Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When, at your hands, did 1 deserve this scorn ? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That 1 di^l never, no, nor never cm. Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, Hut you must flout my insufficiency ? Good troth, you do me wrong, — good sooth, you ^\o, — In such disdainful manner me to woo. Hut tare you well : perforce I must confess, 1 thought you lord of more true gentleness. 0, that a lady, of one man refus'd, Should of another therefore be abus'd ! [.£»/
MIK.sl MMER MGHTS ORE I >/.
tot III run. i — Hermia, sleep thou there : And never may'sl thou i mi I ander neaj !
feitof I test things
[Tie deepest loathing to tin stomach brii
-. that men do I Are hated most of those they < 1 i • 1 deceive ; So thou, my surfeit and my her. • >f all l'<- bated, hut the- most of n And. all m>- powers, address your love and might lu honor Helen, and to be her knight. [Exit.
Her. \Awaking.~\ Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy b
ick this crawling serpent from my breast ! Ah me, for pity ! — what a dream was here !
nder, look how I do quake with fear: Methought a serpent eat my heart away. And you sat smiling at his cruel pre)-. — Lysander ! — What, remov'd ? — Lysander ! lord ! — What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no Alack ! where arc you ? speak, an if you hear;
, of all lo, .11 almost witli fear.
No ? — then I well perceive you are not nigh : Either death, or you, I'll find immediately. [/-.x,i.
II
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DR I I
'
Y •><■ V'-'^i At*''/
AC T III. SCENE 1 — 7ft IK/./. hrwi \ lyingasleep.
Quince, Snug Bottom, Fh n . >\>u r, owrf Starvelini
\w we all met ?
. Pat, pal ; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our re- hearsal, rhis green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our 'tiring- house: and we will do it in action, as we will do it before tlu- duke.
MII'siMMi '■/,• SIGHTS DREAM.
45
I M H
|
v'^ |
|
N
Petei Quince, —
What say's! thou, bully Bottom ? I things in this i omedy of " Pyramus and I hisby, thai
will nr i • Pyramu mu i draw a word to kill himself; which
the ladies canno) abide How answer you tl tt By'rlakin, .1 parlou Star, I believe wi musl leave the killing <>ut, when .ill i- done,
46 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Bot. \Tnt a whit : I have a device to make all well. Write me a pro- logue; .ind let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear.
Quia. Well, we will have such a prologue ; and it shall be written in eight and six.
/!,>/. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ?
Star. I fear it, I promise you.
Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in, — God shield us ! — a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing ; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion, living; and we ought to look- to it.
Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect, — "Ladies, — or, fair ladies, — I would wish you, — or, 1 would request you, — or, I would entreat you, — not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were a pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are: " — and there, indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly, he is Snug, the joiner.
Quin. 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.
Snug. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play ?
Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the almanack ; find out moon- shine, find out moonshine.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.
Bot. W hy, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber win- dow, where we play, open ; and the moon may shine in at the casement.
Quin. Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lan- thorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine. Then, there is another thing : we must have a wall in the great chamber ; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.
Snug. You can never bring in a wall. — What say you, Bottom ?
Bot. Some man or other must present wall : and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM.
47
let him hold hi thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and
[liisby whisper.
If that may be, thru all is well. I omi , it down, everj m son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin. Winn you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; — and mi every one according to
iW/ , k c
•p
*%r
Tf*
rink. What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here. So mar the cradle of the fairy queen ? What, a play toward ! I'll be an auditor; An actor too, perhaps, it I 5pi ak, Pyramus — Thisby, stand forth. Pyr. " Thisby, the flowers of odious savors sweet," —
Odoi Pyr. — " odors savors sweet :
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby, dear. — Hut hark, a voice ! Stay thou but here a while,
And by and by I will to thee appear." [/-.xu.
. [Aside.] A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here ! [Exit.
This. Must I speak now? Quitt. Ay, marry, must you : for you must understand, he goes but to
noise that he heard, and is to come again. This. " Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white <>f hue, < If color 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 ii Pyramus, at Ninny- tomb."
" Minus' tomb." man. Why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you -peak all your part at once, cue- and all. — Pyramus, enter: your cue is past; it is, "never tire."
MIDSl'MMER-XIGHT'S DRE. /.I/.
, I • , £"" This. O, — " As true as truest horse, that yet
would never tire."
Re-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass's head.
►A Pyr. " If I were, fair Thisby, I were only thine : "
I V ed. — Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! — Help!
Exit, with Snug, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
MI/>MM.\//.h- .\7GNTi /','
I''
.
Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: metime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; Ami neigh, ami bark, ami grunt, and roar, and burn. Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit.
Why >\>< they run away ? this is a knavery of them, to make me afeard
j OUT.
Snout. < > Bottom ' thou art changed ! what do I see on thee ?
What do you see ? you see an ass's head ol your own, do you ?
[Exit Snoi i.
Re-en
1 bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit.
their knavery : this is to make an ass of me, to fright me,
if they could Hut I will not stir from this pi, ice, do what they can : I
will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not
afraid. [Sings.
Tlv ousel-coi k. so blai V. i With orange-tawny bill,
lli' throstle with his note s" true. The wren with little quill : —
Tita. [I •' I Whit angel wal m mj flowery bed?
50
Minst 'MMER-NIGHVS DREAM.
Bot. [Sin ; |
i row . .inJ the lark. The plain--- ra\ .
Whose note full many a man doth mark.
And dares not answer, na\ ; —
for, indeed, who would sot his wit to so foolish a bird ? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry " cuckoo " so ?
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again :
Mine cay is much enamour'd of thy note;
SfWSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM.
-->
So i i enthralled to tin shape .
And thy fail virtue's force, perforce doth move me,
i »n the iii — t view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to -.i> the truth, reason and l< th compan) together now-a-da) ;
— the more the ] >i t \ . that some honest neighbors will nol make them friends \.i\ . I can gleek upon <>< casion.
Ilioii .hi as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot Nol ". neither: but if I had wil ul oi thi
have enough t>> serve nun.- nun turn.
Tita. ( > 1 1 1 of this wood do not d< ire to |
[*hou shall remain here, whethei thou will or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate, —
1 he summer --till doth tend upon mj I
And I do love thee: therefore go with m< .
I'll give tin attend on thee ;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep.
And sing, while them on pressed flowers dost ship:
And 1 will purge thy moi t; so,
I It it thou halt like an airy spirit go. —
Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed I
i l, O iBW i B, Moi ii, and M
!
And I. Moth. And I
.l///.s. \nd I
All Four. Whi re hall w
Bi kind and courteous to this g< ml Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; I him with i and dewberries,
With purpl tnd mulberries ;
The honey-bags steal from the humbli And foi n crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the here glow-won To have my love to bed. and to And pluck tin- wings from painted butterflies, I o fan the moon-beams from hi ) es :
Nod to him. eh. him i "in t<
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
i
■ ■ i
aw
Peas. Hail, mortal !
Cob. Hail!
Moth. Hail!
Mus. Hail!
Bot. 1 cry your worship's mercy, heartily. — I beseech your worship's name.
Cob. Cobweb.
^Ll .tf' 'W • <.' />'<''• I shall desire you of more
acquaintance, good master Cobweb:
MIIksIMMI l; SIGHTS />/:/ 11/
it [ cut iti) finger, [ shall make bold with you. — Voui name, honest gentli man '
/',,/> Pi ,i bios "in
I ] ■ i . i > you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and t" mast \ "in father ( iood m om, I shall •
"i more acquaintance too — Your name, I beseech you, Sir? Ma.- Mustard-seed.
1 1 mi ter Mustard-seed, I know your patience well : that same
i owardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured man) a gi ntl< man of your ho I promise you, your kindred hath made im eyi watei ere now. I di you of more acquaintance, good mast i Mil
Jttii Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my bo
moon, methinks, look-, with a water) eye . And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some i nfi tity.
In- up m> love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt.
■ !
54
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
SCENK II.— Another part oj the Wood.
Ode. I wonder if Titania be awak'd ; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. — Here comes my messenger. — [Enter 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
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM.
Forsook cene, and enter*d in .1 brake : When 1 did him at this advantage take,
1 1 I fixed "ii hi-, head : Anon his [*hisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As uil<l geese that the creeping fowlei ( >i russet-pated > houghs, many in sort, and cawing .it the gun's report,
55
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky;
So, at hi- M^ht. away his fellows fly ;
And, at our stamp, her.- o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
Mad n to do them wrong ;
For briers and thorns at their apparel sn
Some, ome, hats. — from yielders all things catch.
56 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
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. I took him sleeping, (that is finish'd too,) 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.
Dent. O, 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 centre creep, and so displease Her brother's noon-tide with th' Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him ; So should a murderer look, — so dead, so grim.
Dent. So should the murder'd look ; and so should I, 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 ?
Dent. 1 had rather give his carcase to my hounds.
Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then ? Henceforth be never number'd among men !
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREA M.
57
true, tell true e'en for my sake ! Dur-t thou have look'd upon him ake,
And hasl thou kill'd him sleepii • ouch !
Could not .1 worm, .m adder, '1" so much ? An adder >li<l it ; for with doubler ton Than thine, thou serpent, never adder
Dent. You spend your passion <>n a mispris'd mood
58
MJDSi 'MMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me, then, that he is well.
Dent. An if I could, what should 1 get therefore ?
Her. 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.
Dem. There is no following her in this tierce vein : 1 hie therefore, for a while 1 will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For 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 i/<>r,'« and sleeps.
Ode. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
Puck. Then fate o'er-rules ; that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Ode. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And I lelena of Athens look thou rind : All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear : By some illusion see thou bring her here : I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
Puck. I go, I go; look how I go, — Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit.
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
59
dm
' *
Flower of this purple dye, I lit with Cupid's archery,
\_Squeats the flower on Demi ikms's eyelids. Sink in apple of his < \\ hen his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus oi the sky. — When thou wak'st, it" she be by, Beg of her for remedy.
•:i, r Puck.
Puck. Captain of our fairy band, .«,*> ' I [el na i here at hand ;
«" And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's
Shall we their fond pa
Lord, what fools these mortals be ! Obe. St. mil .isidc : the noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake Puck. Then will two at once woo one, —
That must needs be sport alone ,
And those thing i do be t plea >e me,
1 hat bi fall pn posterously.
uo
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DR1 1 M
i \ wder i Helena.
/ vs. Why should you think tliat 1 should woo in scorn?
Scorn .mil derision never come in tears: I ook, when 1 vow, I weep, and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears. I low can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge ol faith, to prove them true ?
//</. You do advance your cunning more and more
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray ! rhese vows are I fermia's : will you give her o'er ?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: \ ov, s to hei -\n<\ me, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
, I had no judgment « hen to her 1 swore.
IL!. Noi none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
/ vs. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
Mli>.\t \i.\ii- 1< SIGHT'S hi; I. im.
61
Dent. [Awaking | ' ' nymph, perfect, divine!
I <■ uh.it. my love, shall I compare thine eym ?
i . muddy < >. how ripe in I hy lip-, il i li. in. . i. mpting grow !
I li.ii pun • ongeali <! w hite h l uru now, Fann'd with | wind, turns t" ■> < row
62 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
When thou hold'st up thy hand : O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss !
Hcl. 0 spite ! 0 hell ! I see you all are bent To set against me, for your merriment : If you were 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 eyes With your derision ! none of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
Lys. 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 to my death.
Hcl. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Dent. Lysander, keep thy Hermia ; I will none : If e'er I lov'd 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.
Lys. Helen, it is not so.
Devi. 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.
Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes ;
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
63
Wherein it doth impair the- . It paj - tin- hearing double rei ompense. — 1 lii 'U .ut not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear, 1 thank it, brought me t<> thy sound. Mut why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
\\ hy -In mil 1 he stay, whom love doth press to go ?
Her. What love could press Lysander from my side?
/ ys. Lysander's love, thai would not let him bide, — I". in Helena; who more engilds the night lli. m .ill yon fiery oes and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou mc? could not this make thee know, The hate I bear thee mack- me leave thee so?
Her. Vim speak not as you think: it cannot be.
Hi! 1 .11, sin- i- one of this confederacy! Now 1 perceive they have conjoin'd, all three, To fashion this false -port in spite of me. Injurious Hermia ! most ungrateful maid ! Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd In bail me with this foul derision ? I- all the counsel that w< two have shar'd,
isters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us, — O ! is all forgot ? All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, W.ivv with our neelds created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Moth warbling of one song, both in one key ;
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64 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
A.s H our hands, our sides, voices, and minds I lad been incorporate, So we grew together, Like to a double < herry, seeming parted ; But yet a 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, .wm\ crowned with one crest. And will yon rend our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: ( ) 1 1 1 sex, as well as 1, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury.
Tier. 1 am amazed at your passionate words, 1 scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
Hel. 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 ran', Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul. And tender me, forsooth, affection, But 1))' your setting on, by your consent ? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate; But miserable most to love unlov'd ? This you should pity, rather than despise
Her. 1 understand not what you mean by this
Hel. 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. Hut, fare ye well : 'tis partly mine own fault ; Which death, or absence, soon shall reined)'.
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse':
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
My love, my life, my soul, fair I [i II. . .it !
II r. Sweet, do ii< it -< "in 1
nnol i ntreat, I i an i ompi I I hou i .m-t compel no more than she entn I li >■ threats have no m h than her wi ak prayers. —
I [elen, I love thee . by my life, I d'> : ! i by that which I will lose for thee,
1<> prove him false that says 1 love thee not /' //.-. I say I love thee more than he can do. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. ome '
Lysander, whereto tends .ill this? Away, you Ethiop !
No, no, ^ir : — n to break h on, as you would follow ;
Hut yet '"iii' ii"t : you .in- a t.unc man, go !
I H ii \ J Hang off, thou cat, thou burr ! vile thing, let loose, < >r I will -hake ti
66
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREA M.
Her. Why are you grown so rude ? what change is this, Sweet love ?
Lys. Thy love ? out, tawny Tartar, out !
Out, loathed medicine ! O hated potion, hence !
Her. Do you not jest ?
Hel. Yes, 'sooth ; and so do you.
Lys. Demetrius, 1 will keep my word with thee.
Dent. I would I had your bond, for I perceive
A weak bond holds you : I'll not trust your word.
Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead ? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
Her. 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 lov'd me ; yet, since night you left me : Why, then you left me (O, the gods forbid !) In earnest, shall I say ?
Lys. 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 jest, That I do hate thee, and love Helena.
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
1 i mi ! — yt .11 juggler ! y >u You thief of love I what, hav< you come l>y night, And stol'n my love's heart from him?
//■ I I ine, i' faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, V> touch of bashfulness ? What, will you I Impati m:?
Fie, fit ! you counterfeit, you puppet you !
Her. Puppet! why, so: ay, that way goes the Now 1 perceive that she hath made compare
n our statures ; she hath urg'd Iht height : And with her personage, her tall person Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. — And are you grown so high in his esteem,
I mi si i dwarfish and so low ? 1 1 > -w low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; I low low am I ? 1 am not yet so low, Hut that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
//<■/. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me : I was never cui 1 have no gift at all in shrewishm I am a right maid for my cowardice : Let her not strike me Vou perhaps may think, Becaus omething lower than myself,
I h i! I > .m match her.
Her. Lower ! hark, again.
//<■/. 1 1 1 Hermia, do not be »o hitter with me.
more did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsel-, never wrong'd you ; Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him ol your stealth unto this wood. He follow'd you; for lose, I follow'd him; But he hath chid me hence, and threaten'd mi
i n me, nay. to kill mi too And now. so you will I !■• Athens will I bear my folly back, And follow you no farther : let mi I how simple and how fond I am
//, -■ Why, get you gone ; who i-'t that hinders you ?
68
MWS[-.UMER-XIGHT'S DRE 1M.
Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
Her. What, with Lysander ?
Hel. With Demetrius.
Lys. Be not afraid ; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Dcm. No, Sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
Hel. O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd ! She was a vixen when she went to school ; And though she be but little, she is fierce.
Her. Little again ! nothing but low and little ! — Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? Let me come to her.
Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf !
You minimus of hindering knot-grass made ; You bead, you acorn !
Dan. You are too officious
In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone : speak not of Helena ; Take not her part ; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it.
Lys. Now she holds me not ;
Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, — Or thine or mine. — is most in Helena. Drm. hollow ? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek byjole. [Ex. Lys.<;«,/Dem.
Mill
:/:.! I/.
69
Her. You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: 0 not back.
//,/. I will not trust you, I,
Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands, than mine, arc quicker for a fray; longer though, to run away. Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what u>
[Tiis is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st, ( >r else commit'st thy knaveries wilfully.
; i shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me 1 ~li> «ul< 1 know the man By the Athenian garments he had on ' And -(. far blami I my enterprise,
That I have 'nuinted an Athenian'- ey And SO tar am I did suit.
A- this their jangling I esteem a sport.
I ' !, thi 3€ 1"'.' place to fight :
[Exit. [Exit.
70
MIDS I rMMER-NIGH T'S DRE. \M.
I
?ifPI
V) '/
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog, as black as Acheron ; And lead these testy rivals so astray, As one come not within another's way.
i '
Mll» t 'MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Like t.> Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
I h< n tn 1 ). meti ius up « ith bitter wroi
And "iin time rail thou like I lemetrius ;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
fill o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:
I'Irii crush this herb into Lysander's <
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
[o take from thence all error with his might,
And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream, and fruitiess vision :
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With lea- lie, whose date till death shall never end
While- I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll t" my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then 1 will her charmed
From 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 uh<>-, hosts, wandering here and there,
[Yoop home to church-yards : damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are yone ;
ir lest day should look their shames upon, They wilfully themselves exile from light, And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
7<
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Obe. 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. Puck. Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down : I am fear'd in field and town : Goblin, lead them up and down. Here comes one.
[Exit Obekon.
Re-enter LysaNDER.
Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak thou now. Puck. Here, villain ! drawn and ready. Where art thou ? Lys. I will be with thee straight. Puck. Follow me, then,
To plainer ground. [Exit Lys. as following the voice.
Re-enter Demetrius.
Dem. Lysander ! speak again.
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled ? Speak ! In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy head ?
Puck. Thou coward ! art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
\flDSUM.\tER \ir,Ill> DREAM
And will not come? Come, recreant; come thou child; I'll whip thee with .1 rod: he is defil'd That draws .1 sword on thee.
I), in Yea, art thou tliL-iv ?
illow m\ voice: we'll try no manhood here.
74
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Re-enter Lysander.
Lys. 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 doiv>i.~] Come, thou gentle day ! For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps,
Ml I 'St MM I A' - Mi; II rS DRE. I M.
75
I I ■ ETRIUS.
Puck. Ho! ho! ho! Coward, why com'st thou not ?
Dent, Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well 1 wot Thou runn'st before me, shifting every ; And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the fai e Where art thou now ?
rmk. ( ome hither: I am here.
Dent. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt 'by this dear, [fever I thy face by day-light see: Now. go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
asure out my length on this cold bed. By day's approach look to be visited. [Lies down and sleeps.
^
Re-en
Hel. <> weary night ! <> long and tedious night !
Abate thy hours: shine, comforts, from the That I may back to Athens, by day-light,
I : - -Tii these that my pom- company d< I And sleep, that sometimes ^huts up sorrow'- eye, Steal nir a while from mine own company.
76
MIDSl 'MMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
'm-^^^^^^
m
Puck. 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.
Her. Never so weary, never so in woe ;
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers ; I can no farther crawl, no farther 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 !
[/.'if down and sleeps
MWS i:\f.\fKK-.X IGHT'S DREAM.
77
ind ound ;
111 apply t'> \ oui ( ientle lover, remed)
When thou wak'st, thou tak'st rrue 1 1 l- 1 1 ;^ 1 1 1 in the sight < >f thy former ladj 's And the country proverb known. That every man should take his own, In your waking shall be shown : Jill; Naught shall go ill ; The man shall have his mare again, And all shall be well. [Exit.
MIDSl 'MMER-NIGHTS DRE. /.!/.
SCENE I.— The Wood. Enter Titania ana v. vi ; Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia,
1 l I ' ■■ ' PEAS-B H, I 'm i\ i !;.
Moth, Mustard ed, •ries attending .
Ri in behind unseen.
Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
l/7/'.W l/l// A' X/GHTS DRE IM.
\\ lull I thy amiable And And ki-s thy fair large ears, my gentli P bloss im ? I idy.
tch my head, Pea -blossom, — Where's monsieur Cobwel Ready.
Monsieur Cobweb, g 1 monsii ur, get your weapon in your hand,
and kill me .1 red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; and, monsieur, bring me the honey-bag Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur ; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break ii"t ; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. — Where's monsieur Mustard- Must Ready.
me your neif, monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your monsieur Must. What's your will ?
N ithin good mon ieur, but to help cavaler) < obweb to scratch. I nui-t to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face ; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
What, wilt th<m hear some music, my sweet love?
food ear in music: let us have the tongs and the b<
Tita. • lr say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to i I
Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no felli
I have a venturous fairy that shall lln squirrel's hoard, and I nuts.
I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me : I have an exposition of sleep come upon me
p thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. — Fairies, be gone, and be all way- away. — [Exeunt !
doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist : the female ivy so Enrings tl of the i Im.
t >. how I love thee, how I dote on thee !
8o MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Obc. [Advancing.] Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight ? Her dotage now I do begin to pity : For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her, and fall out with her ; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child ; Which straight she gave me ; and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes : And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain ; That he. awaking when the other do. May all to Athens back again repair, And think no more of this night's accidents, But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be, as thou wast wont to be ; [ 7W.< ■ herb.
See, as thou wast wont to see: Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon ! what visions have I seen ! Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.
Obc. There lies your love.
Tita. I low came these things to pass ?
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now !
Obe. Silence, awhile. — Robin, take off this head. —
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
8 1
Titania, music call; and strike more dead rhan common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita. Music, ho ! music! such as charmeth sleep.
Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.
82 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Obe. Sound, music ! — [Still music.'] Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity. There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark :
I do hear the morning lark. Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade : We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon. Tita. Come, my lord ; and in our flight. Tell me how it came this night, That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground.
[Exeqnt. Horns sound within.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and Irani.
The. Go, one of you, find out the forester; For now our observation is perform'd ; And since we have the vaward of the day. My love shall hear the music of my hounds : Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go : Despatch, I say, and find the forester. — [Exit an Attendant.
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S />■'
83
M. so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ;
:-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : [udge, when you hear.— Hut. soft ! what nymph- are these?
Mv lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: I wonder of their being here together.
The. No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May: and. hearing our inb tit, Came here in grace of our solemnity. — But sp ; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice? It is, my 1 The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
Attendant. Horns, and shout within. LYSANDER, I i 1 RM1 \. ;<•■./ 1 1 1 1 1 n \. await and start up.
Good-morrow, friend-. Saint Valentine is p Begin these wood-birds but to couple now ?
Pardon, my lord
[/A- and
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
The. I pray you all, stand up.
1 know you two are rival enemies : How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ?
Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking : but as yet, 1 swear, I cannot truly say how I came here ; But, as I think, (for truly would I speak, — And now I do bethink me, so it is) I came with Hermia hither : our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, Without the peril of the Athenian law —
Ege. Enough, enough, my lord ; you have enough : I beg the law, the law, upon his head. — ■ They would have stol'n away ; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me, You of your wife, and me of my consent, — Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Detn. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither to this wood ; And I in fury hither follow'd them, Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, (But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gawd, Which in my childhood I did dote upon ; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia : But, like in sickness, did I loath this food ; But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. And will for evermore be true to it.
The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : Of this discourse we more will hear anon. — Egeus, I will overbear your will ;
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DRi
85
For in the temple, by and !>y. with us,
couples shall eternally be knit. And, for the morning now is something worn, ( >ur purpos'd hunting shall b Away, with us, to Athens: three and three, We'll hold ,i feast in great solemnity. —
Come, Hippolyta. \_l:\,u,u in. i ■ . II. md train.
Dem. These things seem small and undistingui I Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye. When every thing seems double.
He/. So methinks :
And I have found Demetrius, like a jewel. Mine own, and not mine own.
Dem. \i . y< >u sure
That we are awake ? Il i i ms to in. That yet we sleep, we dream. — Do not you think The duke was here, and bid us follow him ?
Her. Yea ; and my father.
He/. Anil Hippolyta
Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow him ; And l>y the way let US recount Our dreams.
\_Extuni Lysander, Di ietrii . Hermia, and Hi 1 1 vv
86
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Bot. \_Awaking^\ When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: — my next is, " Most fair Pyramus." — Hey, ho ! — Peter Quince! Flute, the bel- low—mender ! Snout, the tinker ! Starveling ! — God's my life ! stolen hence, and left me asleep ! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, — past the wit of man to say what dream it was : man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had, — but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke ; peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit.
--- " ■ i r v ■'
wm&M
SCENE II. — Athens. A Room in Quince's House.
Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
Qiiiu. Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet ?
Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.
Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes not forward, doth it?
Quiu. It is not possible : you have not a man in all Athens able to dis- charge Pyramus but he.
Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens.
Quiu. Yea, and the best person too ; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.
Flu. You must say, paragon : a paramour is, God bless us ! a thing of naught.
MIDSU.UMER-XIGHTS DREAM.
87
Masters, the duke is coining from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made nun.
• illj Bottom! I In; hath he lost sixpence a-day during his hk-; In- could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not 11 him sixpence a-day tor playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged ; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day in Pyramus, or nothing.
Boi tom.
Where an- these lads ? where are these hearts?
(Juin. Hoit. .m ! — t ) most courageous day ! ( > most happy hour!
Ma ters, 1 am to discourse wonders : but ask me not what ; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out.
Quill. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
,1 word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new rib- bon- t,. your pumps; meet presently at the palace; ever}- man look o'er hi- part ; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any 1 let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nail-, for they -hall hang out for the lion's claw-. A.nd, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath ; and I do not doubt but to hear them -ay. it is a sweet comedy. No more words : away ! go ; away '. \_Exeunt.
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.
irw
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Athens. An Apartment in the Palace of TlIESEUS
Enter Theseus, Hippolvta, Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants.
Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
The. More strange than true : I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen, have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact : — One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, — That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear !
Hip. But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images, And grows to something of great constancy ; But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 89
II: re come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
: ids, Hermia, and 1 1
entle friend- ! joy, and fresh days oi love, mpanj j our hearts ! / 1 r. Moil- than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed !
Come now ; what masks, what dances shall we have, 11 away this long age of three hours, Between our aft and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth ? What revels are in hand ? Is there no play, I ise the anguish of a torturing hour ? fall Philostrate.
Philost. Here, mighty Theseus.
The. Say. what abridgment have you for this evi n What mask ? what music ? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief how many sports are ripe : Make choice- of which your highness will see first. [Giving ,t paper.
Tin. [Reads.] "The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
B) m Athenian eunuch to the harp." — We'll none of that : that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. — [Reads."] "The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
rearing the Thracian singer in their rage." — That is an old device ; and it was play'd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. — [Reads.] "The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
< If learning, lab I in beggary." —
That is ome satire, keen and critical,
Ming with a nuptial ceremony. — [Reads.] " A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth " — .\\f] tragical ! T< dious and brief! I hat i-. hot ire and WOndrOUS Strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord ?
Philost. A play there i~, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play :
go
MIDSl MMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long. Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted : And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess, Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed.
The. What .ire they that do play it ?
Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this same play, against your nuptial.
The. And we will hear it.
Philost. No, my noble lord ;
It is not for you : I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, To do you service.
The. I will hear that play ;
For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in : — and take your places, ladies. [Exit Philost.
Hip. 1 love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd. And duty in his service perishing.
The. \\ hy, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
////. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: And what poor duty cannot do, Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
,I///>.W I/.I//.A' . \ /<,/// \S DREAM.
The.
-•\"\< A ■
Hip. a sound,
. I pick'd a And in the mod ful duty
in. Ii, as from the rattlii ( )l saut y .mil audai ious eloqui i nd tongue-tied simplicity,
In least speak most to my capacity.
Enter I
Pkilost. So please your grace, the proli
.id.: The. Let him approach. trumpets.
Pro/. " [fwe offend, it is with our good-will. That you should think, we come not to of- fend, But with good-will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we conic but in despite.
We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not here. That you should here re- pent you, The actors are at hand ; and. by their show. You shall know all. that you are like to know." This fellow doth not stand upon points.
He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt ; he knows not the moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak
hilled, he hath played on his prologue, like a child on a recorder;
but not in government
I [is speech ».h like a t tngled chain ; nothing impaired, but all dis-
\\ ho is next ?
mshine, and Lion, as in dumb show.
ntles, perchance you wonder at this show; Hut wonder on, till truth make all things plain, lhi^ man i- Pyramus. if you would know ; This beauteous lady Thisbe i-, certain.
g2 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder; And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper ; at the which let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth moonshine ; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright ; And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain : Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast ; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let lion, moonshine, wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse, while here they do remain."
[Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine.
The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Don. No wonder, my lord :
One lion may, when many asses do. Wall. " In this same interlude it doth befall,
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall ;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a cranny'd hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall ; the truth is so :
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper." The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better ? Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
The. Pyramus draws near the wall : silence !
i///'.s/ i/.i/aa' t\/G//rt> ma am.
Pyr. " t > grim-look'd night ! < > night with hue so Mack !
i ) night, which ever art when day is not ! ( > night, i > night ! alack, alack, alack !
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! — And thou, <> wall, o sweet, <> lovely wall,
That stand'st between her father's ground And mine; Thou wall, < i wall, ( > sweet, and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne!
[Wall holds up hii
Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for this !
Hut what sec I ? No Thisby do I « < » wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me ! " The. The wall, methinks. being sensible, should curse again.
Pyr. No, in truth, Sir, he should not. "Deceiving me,'' is Thisby's • ■ i nter now. and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall • will fall pat as I told you. — Yonder she comes.
This. "<) wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me ! My cherry lips h iss'd thy stones.
Thy Stones with lime and hair knit up in thee."
94 MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Pyr. " I sec a voice: now will I to the chink,
lo spy an I can hear my ["hisby's face. —
Thisby I" This. " My love ! thou art my love, 1 think."
Pyr. "Think what then wilt. I am thy lover's grace;
And, like Limander, am 1 trusty still." This. " And 1 like Helen, till the fates me kill." Pyr. " Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true." This. " As Shafalus to Procrus, 1 to you." Pyr. "O ! kiss me through the hole of this vile wall ! " This. " 1 kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all." Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway ?" This. "'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.'
I l \. : i:f I'\ l: \\!l - an I I'm ! 1 .
Wall. "Thus have 1. wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus wall away doth go." [Exit.
The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
////. This is the silliest stuff that ever 1 heard.
I'he lust in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
11 if'. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. tfwe imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, the}- may pass for excellent men. — Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.
Enter Lion *utd M ishine.
Lion. " You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
M.i\ now perchance both quake ami tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
No lion fell, nor else no lion's (lam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity of my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem I'he very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
MIDSUMMER- XIGHT'S DREAM.
95
I : I Mull.
Dem i) lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and
tlit- fox > u i ies Hi.
II ' etion, I .mi sure, cannot carry his valour; for thi i mi. not the fox It is \\ 11 li ave it to his discretion, and let us listen to i m
" I in- lantern doth the horned moon present . " — Dem. He should have worn th i horn on hi head
H< i no ere n ent, and his horns arc invisible within the ( in umfer-
I In- I intern doth the horned moon present ; Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be." rhis is the greatest error ol all the rest : the man should be put into the lantern. I low is it else the man i' the moon ?
Dem. He dares not conn- their for the candle; for, you see, it is aln adj in snuff
////. I am aweary of this moon: would he would chai
It appears by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must May the time. Proi i ed, mo. m , All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lantern is the moon;
I. the man in the moon ; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush ; and this dog, my
Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the Hut. silent • ' here < omes Thisbe.
96
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.
Entry THISBE.
This. "This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love ?"
Lion. [Roaring.] " Oh — " [Thisbe runs off.
Dem. Well roared, lion.
Tin-. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, moon. — Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.
[.The Lion tears THISBE'S mantle, and exit.
The. Well moused, lion.
Dem. And then came Pyramus.
Lys. And so the lion vanished.
Pyr.
Enter Pykamus.
" Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams ; I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright ; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams, 1 trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.
But stay, — O spite ! — But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here ! Eyes, do you see ? How can it be ? O dainty duck ! O dear ! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood ? Approach, ye furies fell ! O fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum ; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell ! "
The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look- sad.
Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
MIDSUMMER-NIGHrS DREAM.
97
/'i /. " < > when fore, nature, didst thou lions fran
Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: Which is — no, n<> — which was the fain
lli.it liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. onfound ; < Hit, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus, — Ay, that li fl pap,
Where heart doth hop : — \_Sta6s himself.
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus ! Now ..ni I dead, \"\v am I fled ; My soul is in the sky :
I ongue, lose thy lij^lit !
Moon, take thy flight ! [Exit Moonshine.
Now die, die, die die, die. No die, but an ace, for him ; for he is but one. I than an .uc. man ; for he is dead . he is nothing. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove ////. How chano moonshine is goni rhisbe comes back and
finds her lover ?
She will find him by starlight. — Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.
iter Thisbe.
Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I
he will be brief. Dent. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us, — -he for a woman, God bless us. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. And thus she moans, videlicet • — This. " Asleep, my love ?
What, dead, my do. < ) Pyramus, arise !
ik, speak Quite dumb ? I >' .u\. dead ? A tomb Must cover thy sweel lily lips, fhis i herry nose,
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DRL IM.
These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone : Lovers, make moan : His eyes were green as leeks. O, sisters three, Come, come to me. With hands as pale as milk ; Lay them in gore, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word : Come, trusty sword ; Come, blade, my breast imbrue : \_Stabs herself. And farewell, friends, — Thus Thisby ends, — Adieu, adieu, adieu." \_Dics.
TIic. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
Dcni. Ay, and Wall too. Bot. No, I assure you ; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company ?
The. No epilogue, I pray you ; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy : and so it is, truly ; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask : let your epilogue alone.
[A dance.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve : —
Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. — Sweet friends, to bed. —
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt.
If/DSt WMER-N/GHTS DRE \M.
A
Sl I \l. II
Puck. Now tin hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst tin- heavy ploughman Miores. All with weary task foredom
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl. screeching loud, Tut- the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. \dw it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide, Every oik lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to -lid.- : And we fairies, that do run Bj the triple Hecate's team, :n the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic : not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow'd house : I am sent, with broom, before, To sweep the dust behind the door.
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DRL : I .
Tita.
Obe.
Enter Oberon and Titania, with their train.
Obe. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire : Every elf, and fairy sprite,
I lop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly. First, rehearse your song by rote, I b ea< h word a warbling note I land in hand, with fairy grai e, Will we sing, and bless this plai e
I '■ ■ dance.
Now. until the break of day,
I hrough this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be ;
Ami the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be .
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand ;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
I V pised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
W ith this field-dew consecrate,
I very fairy take his gait ;
And each several chamber bless.
rhrough this palace, with sweet peace:
1 vei shall in safety rest.
And the owner of it blest.
liip away ; make no staj .
Meet me all by break of day.
I teunt Oberon, Titani \, and train. It we shadows have offended, Think but this, (and all i-, mended.)
-
Puck
MIDSUMMER XIGHT'S DRt IM.
I'll. it you have bul lumber'd here, Whili i n did appi
And tlii-- weak and idle theme, \.> more j ielding but a dre tm,
( null' ■. di i repi 'li
[f you pardon, we will m< nd And, as I'm an honest Pu< k, It we have unearned lu New to 'scape the erp< nt b \\ e \\ ill make ami nd en Ion I i the I'u' I. .1 li.u ' .ill :
I II I 111; 111 Hill' ' \ "11 all.
( in .- me j "tii hands, if we be fi i< ndi . Ami Robin hall n tore ami
I Aw/.
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