Imatges de pÓgina
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Obe. What thou feeft when thou doft wake,

Do it for thy true Love take,
Love and languish for his fake;
Be it Ounce, or Cat, or Bear,
Pard, or Boar, with bristled Hair,
In thy Eye that shall appear;
When thou wak❜ft, it is thy Dear;
Wake when fome vile Thing is near.

Enter Lyfander and Hermia.

[Exit Oberon.

Lyf. Fair Love, you faint with wandring in the Woods;

And to speak troth, I have forgot our Way:
We'll reft us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the Comfort of the Day.

Her. Be it fo, Lyfander; find you out a Bed,
For I upon this Bank will reft my Head.

Lyf. One Turf fhall ferve as Pillow for us both,
One Heart, one Bed, two Bofoms, and one Troth.
Her. Nay good Lyfander, for my Sake, my Dear,
Lye further off yet, do not lye so near.

Lyf. O take the Senfe fweet 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 can you make of it:
Two Bofoms interchanged with an Oath,
So then two Bofoms, and a fingle Troth:
Then by your Side no Bed-room me deny
For lying fo, Hermia, I do not lye.

Her. Lyfander riddles very prettily;
Now much befhrew my Manners, and my Pride,
If He a meant to fay, Lysander ly'd.


But gentle Friend, for Love and Curtefie
Lye further off in human Modefty;
Such Separation as may well be faid
Becomes a virtuous Batchelor, and a Maid;
So far be diftant, and good night sweet Friend,
Thy Love ne'er alter 'till thy fweet Life end.
Lyf. Amen, Amen, to that fair Prayer fay I,
And then end Life when I end Loyalty:
Here is thy Bed, Sleep give thee all his Reft.

Her. With half that Wish, the Withers Eyes be prest. [They fleep.

Enter Puck.

Puck, Through the Foreft have I gone, But Athenian find I none,

On whole Eyes I might approve

This Flower's Force in ftirring Love:
Night and Silence; who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear;
This is he, my Mafter faid,
Defpifed the Athenian Maid?
And here the Maiden fleeping found
On the dank and dirty Ground.
Pretty Soul, the durft not lye

Near this Lack-love, this kill Curtefie.
Churl, upon thy Eyes I throw

All the Power this Charm doth owe:
When thou wak'ft, let Love forbid

Sleep his Seat on thy Eyelid :

So awake when I am gone,

For I muft now to Oberon.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, thot hou kill me, fweet Demetrius.


Dem. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O wilt thou Darling leave me? Do not fo.

Dem. Stay on thy Peril, I alone will go. [Exit Demetrius.
Hel. O I am out of Breath in this fond Chace,

The more my Prayer, the leffer is my Grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er fhe lyes;

For the hath blessed and attractive Eyes.

How came her Eyes fo bright? Not with falt Tears;
If fo, my Eyes are oftner wash'd than hers:

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No, no, I am as ugly as a Bear;

For Beafts that meet me run away for fear;
Therefore no marvel, tho' Demetrius
Do as a Monster, fly my Prefence thus.
What wicked and diffembling Glafs of mine,
Made me compare with Hermia's fphery Eyn?
But who is here? Lyfander on the Ground:
Dead or afleep? I fee no Blood, no Wound:
Lyfander, if you live, good Sir awake.

Lys. And run thro' Fire I will for thy sweet fake.

Trafparent Helena, Nature here fhews Art,
That through thy Bofom makes me fee thy Heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh how fit a Word
Is that vile Name, to perifh on my Sword?

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lylander, fay not fo;
What tho' he love your Hermia? Lord, what tho'?
Yet Hermia ftill loves you; then be content.

Lyf. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent
The tedious Minutes I with her have spent;
Not Hermia, but Helena now I love:
Who will not change a Raven for a Dove?
The Will of Man is by his Reafon fway'd,
And Reason fays you are the worthier Maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their Seafon;
So I being young, 'till now ripe not to Reafon;
And touching now the Point of human Skill,
Reafon becomes the Marshal to my Will,
And leads me to your Eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's Stories, written in Love's richest Book.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen Mockery born?
When at your Hands did I deserve this Scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young Man,
That I did never, no nor never can
Deserve a fweet Look from Demetrius's Eye,
But you must flout my Infufficiency?
Good troth you do me wrong, good footh
In fuch difdainful manner me to woo:
But fare you well. Perforce I must confefs,
I thought you Lord of more true Gentleness:

you do,



Oh, that a Lady of one Man refus'd,

Should of another therefore be abus'd.


And never may'ft thou come Lysander near;

Lyf. She fees not Hermia, Hermia fleep thou there,

For as a Surfeit of the fweeteft Things,
The deepest loathing to a Stomach brings;
Or as the Herefies that Men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
So thou, my Surfeit and my Herefie,
Of all be hated, but the most of me;

And all my Powers addrefs, your Love and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.

Her. Help me, Lysander, help me, do thy beft
To pluck this crawling Serpent from my Breaft;
Ay me, for Pity, what a Dream was here?
Lyfander look, how I do quake with Fear;
Me-thought a Serpent eat my Heart away,
And yet fate fmiling at his cruel Prey:
Lyfander, what remov'd? Lyfander, Lord,
What out of hearing, gone? No found, no word?
Alack where are you? Speak, and if you hear,
Speak of all Loves; I fwound almost with Fear.
No, then I well perceive you are not nigh,
Either Death or you I'll find immediately.




Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt and Starveling. The Queen of Fairies lying afleep.



RE we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a marvellous convenient Place for our Rehearsal. This green Plat fhall be our Stage, this Hauthorn brake our tyring Houfe, and we will do it in Action, as we will do it before the Duke,

Bat. Peter Quince.

Quin. What fay'ft thou Bully Bottom?

Bat. There are Things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will never pleafe. Firft, Piramus muft draw a

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Sword to kill himself, which the Ladies cannot abide. How

answer you


Snout. Berlaken, a parlous Fear.

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

Bot. Not a whit, I have a Device to make all well; write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue feem to fay, We will do no harm with our Swords, and that Piramus is not kill'd indeed; and for the more better Affurance, tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus,but Bottom the Weaver; this will put them out of fear.

Quin. Well, we will have fuch a Prologue, and it fhall be written in Eight and Six.

Bot. 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. Mafters, you ought to confider with your felves; to bring in, God shield us, a Lion among Ladies, is a moft dreadful Thing; for there is not a more fearful wild Fowl than your Lion living; and we ought to look to it.

Snowt. Therefore another Prologue muft 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 fpeak through, faying thus, or to the fame defect; Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would with you, or I would requeft you, or I would intreat 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 fuch 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 fhall be fo; but there is two hard Things, that is, to bring the Moon-light into a Chamber; for you know Pyramus and Thisby meet by Moon-light.

Snug. Doth the Moon fhine that Night we play our Play? Bot. A Calender, a Calender, look in the Almanack; find out Moon-fhine, find out Moon- fhine.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that Night.

Bot. Why then may you leave a Cafement of the great


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