ACT I

SCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS.

     Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants

THESEUS

     Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
     Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
     Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
     This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
     Like to a step-dame or a dowager
     Long withering out a young man revenue.

HIPPOLYTA

     Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
     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.

THESEUS

     Go, Philostrate,
     Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
     Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
     Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
     The pale companion is not for our pomp.

     Exit PHILOSTRATE

     Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS

EGEUS

     Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!

THESEUS

     Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee?

EGEUS

     Full of vexation 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 man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;
     Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
     And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
     Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
     With feigning voice verses of feigning love,
     With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart,
     Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
     To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke,
     Be it so she; will not here before your grace
     Consent to marry with Demetrius,
     I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
     As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
     Which shall be either to this gentleman
     Or to her death, according to our law
     Immediately provided in that case.

THESEUS

     What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid:
     To you your father should be as a god;
     One that composed your beauties, yea, and one
     To whom you are but as a form in wax
     By him imprinted and within his power
     To leave the figure or disfigure it.
     Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

HERMIA

     So is Lysander.

THESEUS

      In himself he is;
     But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
     The other must be held the worthier.

HERMIA

     I would my father look'd but with my eyes.

THESEUS

     Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.

HERMIA

     I do entreat your grace to pardon me.
     I know not by what power I am made bold,
     Nor how it may concern my modesty,
     In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
     But I beseech your grace that I may know
     The worst that may befall me in this case,
     If I refuse to wed Demetrius.

THESEUS

     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,
     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.

HERMIA

     So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
     Ere I will my virgin patent up
     Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
     My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

THESEUS

     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,
     Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would;
     Or on Diana's altar to protest
     For aye austerity and single life.

.LYSANDER

     I am, my lord, as well derived as he,
     As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
     My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
     If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
     And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
      I am beloved of beauteous Hermia:
     Why should not I then prosecute my right?
     Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
     Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
     And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
     Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
     Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

THESEUS

     I must confess that I have heard so much,
     And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
     But, being over-full of self-affairs,
     My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
     And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
     I have some private schooling for you both.
     For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
     To fit your fancies to your father's will;
     Or else the law of Athens yields you up--

EGEUS

     With duty and desire we follow you.

LYSANDER

     How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale?
     How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

HERMIA

     Belike for want of rain, which I could well
     Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.

LYSANDER

     Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
     Could ever hear by tale or history,
     The course of true love never did run smooth;
     But, either it was different in blood,--

HERMIA

     O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.

LYSANDER

     Or else misgraffed in respect of years,--

HERMIA

     O spite! too old to be engaged to young.

LYSANDER

     Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,--

HERMIA

     O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.

LYSANDER

     Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
     War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
     Making it momentany as a sound,
     Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
     Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
     That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
     And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
     The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
     So quick bright things come to confusion.

HERMIA

     If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,
     It stands as an edict in destiny:
     Then let us teach our trial patience,
     Because it is a customary cross,
     As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
     Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.

LYSANDER

     A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia.
     I have a widow aunt, a dowager
     Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
     From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;
     And she respects me as her only son.
     There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
     And to that place the sharp Athenian law
     Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
     Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
     And in the wood, a league without the town,
     Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
     To do observance to a morn of May,
     There will I stay for thee.

HERMIA

     My good Lysander!
     I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow,
     By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
     In that same place thou hast appointed me,
     To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.

LYSANDER

     Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.

     Enter HELENA

HERMIA

     God speed fair Helena! whither away?

HELENA

     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.
     O, teach me how you look, and with what art
     You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

HERMIA

     I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.

HELENA

     O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!

HERMIA

     I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

HELENA

     O that my prayers could such affection move!

HERMIA

     The more I hate, the more he follows me.

HELENA

     The more I love, the more he hateth me.

HERMIA

     His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.

HELENA

     None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!

HERMIA

     Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
     Lysander and myself will fly this place.
     Before the time I did Lysander see,
     Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me:
     O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
     That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

LYSANDER

     Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
     To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
     Her silver visage in the watery glass,
     Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
     A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
     Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.

HERMIA

     And in the wood, where often you and I
     Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,
     Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
     There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
     And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
     To seek new friends and stranger companies.
     Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us;
     And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
     Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
     From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.

LYSANDER

     I will, my Hermia.

     Exit HERMIA

     Helena, adieu:
     As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!

     Exit

HELENA

     How happy some o'er other some can be!
     Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
     But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
     He will not know what all but he do know:
     And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
     So I, admiring of his qualities:
     Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
     Love can transpose to form and dignity:
     Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
     And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
     Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
     Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
     For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
     He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
     And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
     So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
     I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
     Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
     Pursue her; and for this intelligence
     If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
     But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
     To have his sight thither and back again.

     Exit

SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house.

     Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

QUINCE

     Is all our company here?

BOTTOM

     You were best to call them generally, man by man,
     according to the scrip.

QUINCE

     Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is
     thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our
     interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his
     wedding-day at night.

BOTTOM

     First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
     on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow
     to a point.

QUINCE

     Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and
     most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

BOTTOM

     A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a
     merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your
     actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.

QUINCE

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

BOTTOM

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

QUINCE

     You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.

BOTTOM

     What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?

QUINCE

     A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.

BOTTOM

     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
     measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a
     tyrant:   This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players.

QUINCE

     Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.

FLUTE

     Here, Peter Quince.

QUINCE

     Flute, you must take Thisby on you.

FLUTE

     What is Thisby? a wandering knight?

QUINCE

     It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

FLUTE

     Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.

QUINCE

     That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and
     you may speak as small as you will.
     Robin Starveling, the tailor.

STARVELING

     Here, Peter Quince.

QUINCE

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

SNOUT

     Here, Peter Quince.

QUINCE

     You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father:
     Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, I
     hope, here is a play fitted.
     But, masters, here
     are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request
     you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night;
     and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the
     town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if
     we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with
     company, and our devices known. In the meantime I
     will draw a bill of properties, such as our play
     wants. I pray you, fail me not.

BOTTOM

     We will meet; and there we may rehearse most
     obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu.

QUINCE

     At the duke's oak we meet.

BOTTOM

     Enough; hold or cut bow-strings.

     Exeunt

ACT II

SCENE I. A wood near Athens.

     Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK
.

PUCK

     The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
     Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
     For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
     Because that she as her attendant hath
     A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
     She never had so sweet a changeling;
     And jealous Oberon would have the child
     Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
     But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
     Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy:
     And now they never meet in grove or green,
     By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
     But, they do square, that all their elves for fear
     Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
     I jest to Oberon and make him smile
     When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
     Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
     And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
     In very likeness of a roasted crab,
     And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
     And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
     The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
     Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
     Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
     And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
     And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
     And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
     A merrier hour was never wasted there.
 

     Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers

OBERON

     Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.

TITANIA

     What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence:
     I have forsworn his bed and company.

OBERON

     Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?

TITANIA

     Then I must be thy lady: but I know
     When thou hast stolen 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 Steppe 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.

OBERON

     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

TITANIA

     These are the forgeries of jealousy:
     And never, since the middle summer's spring,
     Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
     By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
     Or in the beached margent of the sea,
     To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
     But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
     Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
     As in revenge, have suck'd up from the 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;
     No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
     Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
     Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
     That rheumatic diseases do abound:
     And thorough this distemperature we see
     The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
     Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
     And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
     An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
     Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer,
     The childing autumn, angry winter, change
     Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world,
     By their increase, now knows not which is which:
     And this same progeny of evils comes
     From our debate, from our dissension;
     We are their parents and original.

OBERON

     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.

TITANIA

     Set your heart at rest:
     The fairy land buys not the child of me.
     His mother was a votaress of my order:
     And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
     Full often hath she gossip'd by my side,
     But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
     And for her sake do I rear up her boy,
     And for her sake I will not part with him.

OBERON

     How long within this wood intend you stay?

TITANIA

     Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day.
     If you will patiently dance in our round
     And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
     If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.

OBERON

     Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.

TITANIA

     Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away!
     We shall chide downright, if I longer stay.

     Exit TITANIA with her train

OBERON

     Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
     Till I torment thee for this injury.
     My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
     Since once I sat upon a promontory,
     And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
     Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
     That the rude sea grew civil at her song
     And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
     To hear the sea-maid's music.

PUCK

     I remember.

OBERON

     That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
     Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
     Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took
     At a fair vestal throned by the west,
     And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
     As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
     But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
     Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
     Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
     It fell upon a little western flower,
     Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
     And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
     Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:
     The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
     Will make or man or woman madly dote
     Upon the next live creature that it sees.
     Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
     Ere the leviathan can swim a league.

PUCK

     I'll put a girdle round about the earth
     In forty minutes.

     Exit

OBERON

     Having once this juice,
     I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
     And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.
     The next thing then she waking looks upon,
     Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
     On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
     She shall pursue it with the soul of love:
     And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
     As I can take it with another herb,
     I'll make her render up her page to me.
     But who comes here? I am invisible;
     And I will overhear their conference.

     Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him

DEMETRIUS

     I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
     Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
     The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
     Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood;
     And here am I, and wode within this wood,
     Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
     Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

HELENA

     You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
     But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
     Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,
     And I shall have no power to follow you.

DEMETRIUS

     Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?
     Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
     Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you?

HELENA

     And even for that do I love you the more.
     I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
     The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
     Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
     Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
     Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
     What worser place can I beg in your love,--
     And yet a place of high respect with me,--
     Than to be used as you use your dog?

DEMETRIUS

     Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
     For I am sick when I do look on thee.

HELENA

     And I am sick when I look not on you.

DEMETRIUS

     You do impeach your modesty too much,
     To leave the city and commit yourself
     Into the hands of one that loves you not;
     To trust the opportunity of night
     And the ill counsel of a desert place
     With the rich worth of your virginity.

HELENA

     Your virtue is my privilege: for that
     It is not night when I do see your face,
     Therefore I think I am not in the night;
     Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
     For you in my respect are all the world:
     Then how can it be said I am alone,
     When all the world is here to look on me?

DEMETRIUS

     I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
     And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

HELENA

     The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
     Run when you will, the story shall be changed:.

DEMETRIUS

     I will not stay thy questions; let me go:
     Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
     But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.

HELENA

     Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
     You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
     Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
     We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
     We should be wood and were not made to woo.

     Exit DEMETRIUS

     I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,
     To die upon the hand I love so well.

     Exit

OBERON

     Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,
     Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love.

     Re-enter PUCK

     Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.

PUCK

     Ay, there it is.

OBERON

     I pray thee, give it me.
     And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
     And make her full of hateful fantasies.
     Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
     A sweet Athenian lady is in love
     With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;
     But do it when the next thing he espies
     May be the lady: thou shalt know the man
     By the Athenian garments he hath on.
     Effect it with some care, that he may prove
     More fond on her than she upon her love:
     And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.

PUCK

     Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.

     Exeunt

SCENE II. Another part of the wood.

     Enter TITANIA, with her train

TITANIA

     Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
     Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;
     Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds,
     Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
     To make my small elves coats, and some keep back
     The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders
     At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
     Then to your offices and let me rest.
     Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps

     Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids

OBERON

     What thou seest when thou dost wake,
     Do it for thy true-love take,
     Love and languish for his sake:
     Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
     Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
     In thy eye that shall appear
     When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
     Wake when some vile thing is near.

     Exit

     Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA

LYSANDER

     Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;
     And to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
     We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
     And tarry for the comfort of the day.

HERMIA

     Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed;
     For I upon this bank will rest my head.

LYSANDER

     One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
     One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.

HERMIA

     Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
     Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.

LYSANDER

     O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
     Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
     I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit
     So that but one heart we can make of it;
     Two bosoms interchained with an oath;
     So then two bosoms and a single troth.
     Then by your side no bed-room me deny;
     For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.

HERMIA

     Lysander riddles very prettily:
     Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
     If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
     But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
     Lie further off; in human modesty,
     Such separation as may well be said
     Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
     So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
     Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!

LYSANDER

     Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
     And then end life when I end loyalty!
     Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest!

HERMIA

     With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!

     They sleep

     Enter PUCK

PUCK

     Through the forest have I gone.
     But Athenian found I none,
     On whose eyes I might approve
     This flower's force in stirring love.
     Night and silence.--Who is here?
     Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
     This is he, my master said,
     Despised the Athenian maid;
     And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
     On the dank and dirty ground.
     Pretty soul! she durst not lie
     Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
     Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
     All the power this charm doth owe.
     When thou wakest, let love forbid
     Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
     So awake when I am gone;
     For I must now to Oberon.

     Exit

     Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running

HELENA

     Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.

DEMETRIUS

     I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

HELENA

     O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.

DEMETRIUS

     Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go.

     Exit

HELENA

     O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
     The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
     Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies;
     For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
     How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:
     If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers.
     No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
     For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
     Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
     Do, as a monster fly my presence thus.
     What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
     Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
     But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
     Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
     Lysander if you live, good sir, awake.

LYSANDER

     [Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
     Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
     That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
     Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
     Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

HELENA

     Do not say so, Lysander; say not so
     What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
     Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.

LYSANDER

     Content with Hermia! No; I do repent
     The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
     Not Hermia but Helena I love:
     Who will not change a raven for a dove?
     The will of man is by his reason sway'd;
     And reason says you are the worthier maid.
     Things growing are not ripe until their season
     So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
     leads me to your eyes, where I overlook
     Love's stories written in love's richest book.

HELENA

     Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
     When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
     Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
     In such disdainful manner me to woo.
     But fare you well: perforce I must confess
     I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
     O, that a lady, of one man refused.
     Should of another therefore be abused!

     Exit

LYSANDER

     She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there:
     And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
     For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
     The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
     Or as tie heresies that men do leave
     Are hated most of those they did deceive,
     So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
     Of all be hated, but the most of me!
     And, all my powers, address your love and might
     To honour Helen and to be her knight!

     Exit

HERMIA

     [Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best
     To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
     Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here!
     Lysander, look how I do quake with fear:
     Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
     And you sat smiling at his cruel pray.
     Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!
     What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
     Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear;
     Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
     No? then I well perceive you all not nigh
     Either death or you I'll find immediately.

     Exit

ACT III

SCENE I. The wood. TITANIA lying asleep.

     Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

BOTTOM

     Are we all met?

QUINCE

     Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place
     for our rehearsal. This 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 the duke.

BOTTOM

     Peter Quince,--

QUINCE

     What sayest thou, bully Bottom?

BOTTOM

     There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and
     Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must
     draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies
     cannot abide. How answer you that?

SNOUT

     By'r lakin, a parlous fear.

STARVELING

     I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.

BOTTOM

     Not a whit: I have a device to make all well.
     Write me a prologue; and 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, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not
     Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them
     out of fear.

QUINCE

     Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be
     written in eight and six.

BOTTOM

     No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.

SNOUT

     Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?

STARVELING

     I fear it, I promise you.

BOTTOM

     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 't.

SNOUT

     Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.

BOTTOM

     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 'I 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 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.

QUINCE

     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.

SNOUT

     Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?

BOTTOM

     A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find
     out moonshine, find out moonshine.

QUINCE

     Yes, it doth shine that night.

BOTTOM

     Why, then may you leave a casement of the great
     chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon
     may shine in at the casement.

QUINCE

     Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns
     and a lanthorn, 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.

SNOUT

     You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?

BOTTOM

     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 let him hold his
     fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus
     and Thisby whisper.

QUINCE

     If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down,
     every mother's son, and rehearse your parts.
     Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your
     speech, enter into that brake: and so every one
     according to his cue.

     Enter PUCK behind

PUCK

     What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,
     So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
     What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
     An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.

QUINCE

     Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.

BOTTOM

     Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,--

QUINCE

     Odours, odours.

BOTTOM

     --odours savours sweet:
     So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
     But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile,
     And by and by I will to thee appear.

     Exit

PUCK

     A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here.

     Exit

FLUTE

     Must I speak now?

QUINCE

     Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes
     but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.

FLUTE

     Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
     Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
     Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,
     As true as truest horse that yet would never tire,
     I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.

QUINCE

     'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that
     yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your
     part at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cue
     is past; it is, 'never tire.'

FLUTE

     O,--As true as truest horse, that yet would
     never tire.

     Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head

BOTTOM

     If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.

QUINCE

     O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray,
     masters! fly, masters! Help!

     Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

PUCK

     I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,
     Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:
     Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
     A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
     And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
     Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.

     Exit

BOTTOM

     Why do they run away?  I see their knavery:
     this is to make an ass of me;
     to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir
     from this place, do what they can: I will walk up
     and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear
     I am not afraid.

TITANIA

     [Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

BOTTOM

     [Sings]
     The finch, the sparrow and the lark,
     The plain-song cuckoo gray,
     Whose note full many a man doth mark,
     And dares not answer nay;--
     for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish
     a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry
     'cuckoo' never so?

TITANIA

     I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:
     Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;
     So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
     And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me
     On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.

BOTTOM

     Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason
     for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and
     love keep little company together now-a-days; the
     more the pity that some honest neighbours will not
     make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.

TITANIA

     Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

BOTTOM

     Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out
     of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.

TITANIA

     Out of this wood do not desire to go:
     Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
     I am a spirit of no common rate;
     The summer still doth tend upon my state;
     And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
     That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

BOTTOM

     I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your
     worship's name.

TITANIA

     The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;
     And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
     Lamenting some enforced chastity.
     Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently.

     Exeunt

SCENE II. Another part of the wood.

     Enter OBERON

OBERON

     I wonder if Titania be awaked;
     Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
     Which she must dote on in extremity.

     Enter PUCK

     Here comes my messenger.
     How now, mad spirit!
     What night-rule now about this haunted grove?

PUCK

     My mistress with a monster is in love.
     Near to her close and consecrated bower,
     While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
     A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
     That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
     Were met together to rehearse a play
     Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.
     The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
     Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
     Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake
     When I did him at this advantage take,
     An ass's nole I fixed on his head:
     Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
     And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
     As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
     And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls;
     He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
     Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears
     thus strong,
     Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
     For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
     Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all
     things catch.
     I led them on in this distracted fear,
     And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
     When in that moment, so it came to pass,
     Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

OBERON

     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 waked, of force she must be eyed.

     Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS

OBERON

     Stand close: this is the same Athenian.

PUCK

     This is the woman, but not this the man.

DEMETRIUS

     O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
     Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

HERMIA

     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,
     It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;
     So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.

DEMETRIUS

     So should the murder'd look, and so should I,
     Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:
     Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
     As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

HERMIA

     What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
     Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?

DEMETRIUS

     I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.

HERMIA

     Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds
     Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
     Henceforth be never number'd among men!
     O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!
     Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,
     And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
     Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
     An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
     Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

DEMETRIUS

     You spend your passion on a misprised mood:
     I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
     Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.

HERMIA

     I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.

DEMETRIUS

     An if I could, what should I get therefore?

HERMIA

     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

DEMETRIUS

     There is no following her in this fierce vein:
     Here therefore for a while I 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 down and sleeps

OBERON

     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.

OBERON

     About the wood go swifter than the wind,
     And Helena of Athens look thou find:
     All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
     With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear:
     By some illusion see thou bring her here:
     I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.

PUCK

     I go, I go; look how I go,
     Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.

     Exit

OBERON

     Flower of this purple dye,
     Hit with Cupid's archery,
     Sink in apple of his eye.
     When his love he doth espy,
     Let her shine as gloriously
     As the Venus of the sky.
     When thou wakest, if she be by,
     Beg of her for remedy.

     Re-enter PUCK

PUCK

     Captain of our fairy band,
     Helena is here at hand;
     And the youth, mistook by me,
     Pleading for a lover's fee.
     Shall we their fond pageant see?
     Lord, what fools these mortals be!

OBERON

     Stand aside: 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 things do best please me
     That befal preposterously.

     Enter LYSANDER and HELENA

LYSANDER

     Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
     Scorn and derision never come in tears:
     Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
     In their nativity all truth appears.
     How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
     Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

HELENA

     You do advance your cunning more and more.
     When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
     These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er?
     Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
     Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
     Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.

LYSANDER

     I had no judgment when to her I swore.

HELENA

     Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.

LYSANDER

     Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.

DEMETRIUS

     [Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
     To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
     Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
     Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
     When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
     This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

HELENA

     O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
     To set against me for your merriment:
     If you we re civil and knew courtesy,
     You would not do me thus much injury.
     Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
     But you must join in souls to mock me too?
     If you were men, as men you are in show,
     You would not use a gentle lady so;
     To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
     When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
     You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
     And now both rivals, to mock Helena:
     A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
     To conjure tears up in a poor maid's 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.

LYSANDER

     You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
     For you love Hermia; this you know I know:
     And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
     In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
     And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
     Whom I do love and will do till my death.

HELENA

     Never did mockers waste more idle breath.

DEMETRIUS

     Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
     If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.
     My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
     And now to Helen is it home return'd,
     There to remain.

LYSANDER

     Helen, it is not so.

DEMETRIUS

     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

HERMIA

     Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
     The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
     Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
     It pays the hearing double recompense.
     Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
     Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound
     But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?

LYSANDER

     Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?

HERMIA

     What love could press Lysander from my side?

LYSANDER

     Lysander's love, that would not let him bide,
     Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
     Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light.
     Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
     The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?

HERMIA

     You speak not as you think: it cannot be.

HELENA

     Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
     Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
     To fashion this false sport, in spite of me.
     Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
     Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
     To bait me with this foul derision?
     Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
     The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
     When we have chid the hasty-footed time,
     And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
     To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
     It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
     Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
     Though I alone do feel the injury.

HERMIA

     I am amazed at your passionate words.
     I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.

HELENA

     Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
     To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
     And made your other love, Demetrius,
     Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
     To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,
     Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
     To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
     Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
     And tender me, forsooth, affection,
     But by your setting on, by your consent?
     What thought I be not so in grace as you,
     So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
     But miserable most, to love unloved?
     This you should pity rather than despise.

HERNIA

     I understand not what you mean by this.

HELENA

     Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
     Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
     Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
     This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
     If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
     You would not make me such an argument.
     But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault;
     Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

LYSANDER

     Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:
     My love, my life my soul, fair Helena!

HELENA

     O excellent!

HERMIA

     Sweet, do not scorn her so.

DEMETRIUS

     If she cannot entreat, I can compel.

LYSANDER

     Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:
     Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
     Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:
     I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
     To prove him false that says I love thee not.

DEMETRIUS

     I say I love thee more than he can do.

LYSANDER

     If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.

DEMETRIUS

     Quick, come!

HERMIA

     Lysander, whereto tends all this?

LYSANDER

     Away, you Ethiope!

DEMETRIUS

     No, no; he'll [ ]

LYSANDER

     Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,
     Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

HERMIA

     Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?
     Sweet love,--

LYSANDER

     Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!
     Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!

HERMIA

     Do you not jest?

HELENA

     Yes, sooth; and so do you.

LYSANDER

     Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.

DEMETRIUS

     I would I had your bond, for I perceive
     A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word.

LYSANDER

     What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
     Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.

HERMIA

     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?

LYSANDER

     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.

HERMIA

     O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!
     You thief of love! what, have you come by night
     And stolen my love's heart from him?

HELENA

     Fine, i'faith!
     Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
     No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
     Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
     Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!

HERMIA

     Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
     Now I perceive that she hath made compare
     Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
     And with her personage, her tall personage,
     How low am I? I am not yet so low
     But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.

HELENA

     I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
     Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;
     I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
     I am a right maid for my cowardice:
     Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
     Because she is something lower than myself,
     That I can match her.

HERMIA

     Lower! hark, again.

HELENA

     Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
     I evermore did love you, Hermia,
     Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
     Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
     I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
     He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him;
     But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me
     To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:
     And now, so you will let me quiet go,
     To Athens will I bear my folly back

HERMIA

     Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you?

HELENA

     A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.

HERMIA

     What, with Lysander?

HELENA

     With Demetrius.

LYSANDER

     Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.

DEMETRIUS

     No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.

HELENA

     O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!
     She was a vixen when she went to school;
     And though she be but little, she is fierce.

HERMIA

     'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
     Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
     Let me come to her.

LYSANDER

     Get you gone, you dwarf;
     You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made;
     You bead, you acorn.

DEMETRIUS

     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.

LYSANDER

     Now she holds me not;
     Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,
     Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.

DEMETRIUS

     Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole.

     Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS

HERMIA

     You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:
     Nay, go not back.

HELENA

     I will not trust you, I,
     Nor longer stay in your curst company.
     Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,
     My legs are longer though, to run away.

     Exit

HERMIA

     I am amazed, and know not what to say.

     Exit

OBERON

     This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,
     Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.

PUCK

     Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
     Did not you tell me I should know the man
     By the Athenian garment he had on?
     And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
     That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
     And so far am I glad it so did sort
     As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

OBERON

     Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight:
     Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
     And lead these testy rivals so astray
     As one come not within another's way.
     Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
     Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
     To take from thence all error with his might,
     And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
     When they next wake, all this derision
     Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision,
     And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
     With league whose date till death shall never end.
     Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
     I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;
     And then I will her charmed eye release
     From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.

     Exit

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.

     Re-enter LYSANDER

LYSANDER

     Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.

PUCK

     Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?

LYSANDER

     I will be with thee straight.

PUCK

     Follow me, then,
     To plainer ground.

     Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice

     Re-enter DEMETRIUS

DEMETRIUS

     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,
     And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;
     I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled
     That draws a sword on thee.

DEMETRIUS

     Yea, art thou there?

PUCK

     Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here.

     Exeunt

     Re-enter LYSANDER

LYSANDER

     He goes before me and still dares me on:
     When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
     The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I:
     I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
     That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
     And here will rest me.

     Lies down

     Come, thou gentle day!
     For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
     I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.

     Sleeps

     Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS

PUCK

     Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?

DEMETRIUS

     Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot
     Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place,
     And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.
     Where art thou now?

PUCK

     Come hither: I am here.

DEMETRIUS

     Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
     If ever I thy face by daylight see:
     Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
     To measure out my length on this cold bed.
     By day's approach look to be visited.

     Lies down and sleeps

     Re-enter HELENA

HELENA

     O weary night, O long and tedious night,
     Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east,
     That I may back to Athens by daylight,
     From these that my poor company detest:
     And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
     Steal me awhile from mine own company.

     Lies down and sleeps

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

HERMIA

     Never so weary, never so in woe,
     Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,
     I can no further crawl, no further go;
     My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
     Here will I rest me till the break of day.
     Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

     Lies down and sleeps

PUCK

     On the ground
     Sleep sound:
     I'll apply
     To your eye,
     Gentle lover, remedy.

     Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes

     When thou wakest,
     Thou takest
     True delight
     In the sight
     Of thy former lady's eye:
     And the country proverb known,
     That every man should take his own,
     In your waking shall be shown:
     Jack shall have Jill;
     Nought shall go ill;
     The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.

     Exit

ACT IV

SCENE I. The same. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA lying asleep.

     Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM;  OBERON behind unseen

TITANIA

     Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
     While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
     And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
     And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
     What, wilt thou hear some music,
     my sweet love?

BOTTOM

     I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have
     the tongs and the bones.

TITANIA

     Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.

BOTTOM

     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 fellow, or might
     I 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.

TITANIA

     Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
     So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
     Gently entwist; the female ivy so
     Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
     O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

     They sleep

     Enter PUCK

OBERON

     [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin.
     See'st thou this sweet sight?
     Her dotage now I do begin to pity:
     For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
     Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool,
     I did upbraid her and fall out with her;
     For she his hairy temples then had rounded
     With a 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 flowerets' 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;
     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.

TITANIA

     My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
     Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

OBERON

     There lies your love.

TITANIA

     How came these things to pass?
     O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

OBERON

     Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
     Titania, music call; and strike more dead
     Than common sleep of all these five the sense.

TITANIA

     Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep!

     Music, still

PUCK

     Now, when thou wakest, with thine
     own fool's eyes peep.

OBERON

     Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
     And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.

PUCK

     Fairy king, attend, and mark:
     I do hear the morning lark.

OBERON

     Then, my queen, in silence sad,
     Trip we after the night's shade:
     We the globe can compass soon,
     Swifter than the wandering moon.

TITANIA

     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.

     Exeunt

     Horns winded within

     Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train

THESEUS

     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:
     Dispatch, 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.

HIPPOLYTA

     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.

THESEUS

     My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
     So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
     With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
     Crook-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:
     Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?

EGEUS

     My 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.

THESEUS

     No doubt they rose up early to observe
     The rite of May, and hearing our intent,
     Came here in grace our solemnity.
     But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
     That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

EGEUS

     It is, my lord.

THESEUS

     Go, stir the children wake them with your call.

LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA wake and start up

     Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
     Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

LYSANDER

     Pardon, my lord.

THESEUS

     I pray you all, stand up.
     I 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?

LYSANDER

     My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
     Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,
     I cannot truly say how I came here;
     But, as I think,--for truly would I speak,
     And now do I 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.

EGEUS

     Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
     I beg the law, the law, upon his head.
     They would have stolen 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.

DEMETRIUS

     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 gaud
     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 loathe this food;
     But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
     Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
     And will for evermore be true to it.

THESEUS

     Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
     Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
     Egeus, I will overbear your will;
     For in the temple by and by with us
     These couples shall eternally be knit:
     And, for the morning now is something worn,
     Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.
     Away with us to Athens; three and three,
     We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
     Come, Hippolyta.

     Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train

DEMETRIUS

     These things seem small and undistinguishable,

HERMIA

     Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
     When every thing seems double.

HELENA

     So methinks:
     And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
     Mine own, and not mine own.

DEMETRIUS

     Are you sure
     That we are awake? It seems to me
     That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
     The duke was here, and bid us follow him?

HERMIA

     Yea; and my father.

HELENA

     And Hippolyta.

LYSANDER

     And he did bid us follow to the temple.

DEMETRIUS

     Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him
     And by the way let us recount our dreams.

     Exeunt

BOTTOM

     [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
     answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
     Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-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

SCENE II. Athens. QUINCE'S house.

     Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

QUINCE

     Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet?

STARVELING

     He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is
     transported.

FLUTE

     If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes
     not forward, doth it?

QUINCE

     It is not possible: you have not a man in all
     Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.

     Enter BOTTOM

BOTTOM

     Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

QUINCE

     Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!

BOTTOM

     Masters, I 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.

QUINCE

     Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

BOTTOM

     Not a 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 ribbons to your
     pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look
     o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our
     play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have
     clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion
     pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the
     lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions
     nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I
     do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet
     comedy. No more words: away! go, away!

     Exeunt

ACT V

SCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS.

     Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants

HIPPOLYTA

     'Tis strange my Theseus, that these
     lovers speak of.

THESEUS

     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 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 supposed a bear!

HIPPOLYTA

     But all the story of the night told over,
     And all their minds transfigured so together,
     More witnesseth than fancy's images
     And grows to something of great constancy;
     But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

THESEUS

     Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.

     Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA

     Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love
     Accompany your hearts!

LYSANDER

     More than to us
     Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

THESEUS

     Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
     To wear away this long age of three hours
     Between our after-supper and bed-time?
     Where is our usual manager of mirth?
     What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
     To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
     Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE

     Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS

     Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
     What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
     The lazy time, if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE

     There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
     Make choice of which your highness will see first.

     Giving a paper

THESEUS

     [Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
     By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
     We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
     In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

     Reads

     'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
     And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'
     Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
     That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
     How shall we find the concord of this discord?

PHILOSTRATE

     A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
     Which is as brief as I have known a play;
     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 rehearsed, I must confess,
     Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
     The passion of loud laughter never shed.

THESEUS

     What are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE

     Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
     Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
     And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
     With this same play, against your nuptial.

THESEUS

     And we will hear it.

PHILOSTRATE

     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.

THESEUS

     I will hear that play;
     For never anything can be amiss,
     When simpleness and duty tender it.
     Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.

     Exit PHILOSTRATE

HIPPOLYTA

     I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged
     And duty in his service perishing.

THESEUS

     Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

HIPPOLYTA

     He says they can do nothing in this kind.

THESEUS

     The kinder we, to give them laud for naught.
     Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
     Throttle their practised accent in their fears
     And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,
     Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
     Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
     And in the modesty of fearful duty
     I read as much as from the rattling tongue
     Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
     Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
     In least speak most, to my capacity.

     Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

PHILOSTRATE

     So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.

THESEUS

     Let him approach.

     Flourish of trumpets

     Enter QUINCE for the Prologue

Prologue

     If we offend, it is with our good will.
     That you should think, we come not to offend,
     But with good will. To show our simple skill,
     That is the true beginning of our end.
     Consider then we come but in despite.
     We do not come as minding to contest you,
     Our true intent is. All for your delight
     We are not here. That you should here repent you,
     The actors are at hand and by their show
     You shall know all that you are like to know.

THESEUS

     This fellow doth not stand upon points.

LYSANDER

     He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows
     not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not
     enough to speak, but to speak true.

HIPPOLYTA

     Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child
     on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

THESEUS

     His speech, was like a tangled chain; nothing
     impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

     Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion

Prologue

     Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
     But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
     This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
     This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
     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 lanthorn, 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 is 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

THESEUS

     I wonder if the lion be to speak.

DEMETRIUS

     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 crannied hole or chink,
     Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
     Did whisper often very secretly.
     This loam, 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.

THESEUS

     Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

DEMETRIUS

     It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
     discourse, my lord.

     Enter Pyramus

THESEUS

     Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Pyramus

     O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
     O night, which ever art when day is not!
     O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
     I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
     And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
     That stand'st between her father's ground and mine!
     Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
     Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!

     Wall holds up his fingers

     Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
     But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
     O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
     Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

THESEUS

     The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Pyramus

     No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me'
     is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to
     spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will
     fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes.

     Enter Thisbe

Thisbe

     O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
     For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
     My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
     Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

Pyramus

     I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
     To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby!

Thisbe

     My love thou art, my love I think.

Pyramus

     Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
     And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

Thisbe

     And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

Pyramus

     Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

Thisbe

     As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Pyramus

     O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

Thisbe

     I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

Pyramus

     Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?

Thisbe

     'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.

     Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe

Wall

     Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
     And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

     Exit

THESEUS

     Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.