Imatges de pàgina
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It cannot be but thou haft murder'd him,

So fhould a Murtherer look, fo dead, fo grim.

Dem. So fhould the Murtherer look, and so should I,
Pierc'd through the Heart with your stern Cruelty:
Yet you the Murderer look as bright and clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering Sphere.

Her. What's this to my Lyfander? Where is he?
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?

Dem. I'd rather give his Carkafs to my Hounds.
Her. Out Dog, out Cur, thou driv'ft me past the bounds
Of Maiden's Patience. Haft thou flain him then?
Henceforth be never numbred among Men.

Oh! once tell true, and even for my fake,
Durft thou a look'd upon him, being awake?
And haft thou kill'd him fleeping? O brave touch:
Could not a Worm, an Adder do fo much?
An Adder did it, for with doubler Tongue
Than thine, thou Serpent, never Adder ftung.
Dem. You fpend your Paffion on a mifpriz'd mood;
I am not guilty of Lyfander's Blood,

therefore?

Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well.
Dem. And if I could, what fhould I get
Her. A Privilege never to fee me more;
And from thy hated Prefence part I. See me no more,
Whether he be dead or no.

[Exit Dem. There is no following her in this fierce Vein, Here therefore for a while I will remain.

So Sorrows heavinefs doth heavier grow:

For Debt that Bankrupt fleep doth Sorrow owe,
Which now in fome flight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make fome stay.

[Lies down.
Ob. What haft thou done? Thou haft mistaken quite,
And laid thy Love-Juice on fome true Love's fight:
Of thy Mifprifion must perforce enfue

Some true Love turn'd, and not a falfe turn'd true.

Puck. Then Fate o'er-rules, that one Man holding Troth

A Million fail, confounding Oath on Oath.

Ob. About the Wood go fwifter than the Wind,

And Helena of Athens fee thou find.

All Fancy-fick he is, and pale of Cheer,

With fighs of Love, that cofts the fresh Blood dear;

By fome Illufion fee thou bring her here;

I'll charm his Eyes against the doth appear.

Puck. I go, I go, look how I go,

Swifter than Arrow from the Tartar's Bow.

[Exit.

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Puck. Captain of our Fairy Band,
Helena is here at hand,

And the Youth miftook by me,
Pleading for a Lover's Fee.

Shall we their fond Pageant fee?
Lord, what Fools thefe Mortals be!

Ob. Stand afide: The noise they make
Will caufe 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 prepofterously.

Enter Lyfander and Helena.

Lyf. Why fhould you think that I should woo in fcorn?

Scorn and Derifion never come in Tears.

Look when I vow, I weep, and Vows fo born,
In their Nativity all Truth appears:

How can these things in me feem Scorn to you?
Bearing the badge of Faith to prove them true.

Hel. 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.
Lyf I had no Judgment when to her I fwore.
Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.

Lyf

Lyf. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.

Dem. [Awaking.] O Helen, Goddess, Nymph, perfe&, divine,

To what, my Love, fhall I compare thine Eyne?
Crystal is muddy; O how ripe in show,

Thy Lips, thofe kiffing Cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus Snow,
Fann'd with the Eastern Wind, turns to a Crow,
When thou hold'ft up thy hand. O let me kifs
This Princefs of pure white, this feal of Blifs.
Hel. O Spight, O Hell, I fee you are all bent
To fet against me, for your Merriment:
If you were civil, and knew Courtefie,
You would not do me thus much Injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you muft join in Souls to mock me too?
If you are Men, as Men you are in show,
You would not ufe a gentle Lady fo:

To vow, and fwear, and fuperpraise my Parts,
When I am fure 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 Enterprize,
To conjure Tears up in a poor Maid's Eyes,
With your Derifion: None of Nobler fort
Would fo offend a Virgin, and extort
A poor Soul's Patience, all to make you sport.
Lyf. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not fo,
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 your's of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love, and will do to my Death.

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Hel. Never did Mockers wafte more idle Breath.
Dem. Lyfander, keep thy Hermia, I will none;
If e'er I lov'd her, all that Love is gone.
My Heart to her, but as Gueft-wife fojourn'd,
And now to Helen it is home return'd,

There to remain.

Lyf. It is not fo.

Dem. Difparage not the Faith thou doft not know,

Left

Left to thy peril thou abide it dear.

Look where thy Love comes, yonder is thy Dear.
Enter Hermia.

Her. Dark Night, that from the Eye his Function takes,
The Ear more quick of Apprehenfion makes.
Wherein it doth impair the feeing Senfe,
It pays the Hearing double recompence.
Thou art not by mine Eye, Lyfander, found,
Mine Ear, I thank it, brought me to that Sound.
But why unkindly didft thou leave me fo?

Lyf. Why fhould he stay, whom Love doth prefs to go?
Her. What Love could prefs Lyfander from my fide?
Lyf. Lyfander's Love, that would not let him bide;
Fair Helena, who more engilds the Night,
Than all yon fiery O's and Eyes of Light.

Why feek'ft thou me? Could not this make thee know
The Hate I bear thee, made me leave thee fo?
Her. You fpeak not as you think: It cannot be.
Hel. Lo, fhe is one of this Confederacy;
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three,
To fashion this falfe Sport in fpight of me.
Injurious Hermia, moft ungrateful Maid,
Have you confpir'd, have you with thefe contriv'd
To bait me, with this foul Derifion?

Is all the Counsel that we two have shar'd,
The Sifters Vows, the Hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hafty footed Time,
For parting us: O! and is all forgot?

All School-days Friendship, Childhoods Innocence?
We, Hermia, like two Artificial gods,

Have with our Needles, created both one Flower,
Both on one Sampler, fitting on one Cushion;
Both warbling of one Song, both in one Key;
As if our Hands, our Sides, Voices, and Minds
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double Cherry, feeming parted,
But yet an Union in partition;

Two lovely Berries molded on one Stem,
So with two feeming Bodies, but one Heart,
Two of the firft Life, Coats of Heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one Creft.
VOL. II.

D

And

And will you rend our ancient Love asunder,
To join with Men in fcorning 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.

Her. I am amazed at your paffionate words:
I fcorn you not; it feems that you fcorn me.
Hel. Have you not fet Lyfander, as in fcorn,
To follow me, and praife my Eyes and Face?
And made your other Love, Demetrius,
Who even but now did fpurn me with his Foot,
To call me Goddefs, Nymph, Divine, and Rare,
Precious, Celestial? Wherefore fpeaks he this
To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lyfander
Deny your Love, fo rich within his Soul,
And tender me, forfooth, Affection,
But by your fetting on, by your Consent ?
What though I be not fo in grace as you,
So hung upon with Love, fo fortunate?
But miferable moft, to love unlov'd,
This you fhould pity rather than defpife.

Her. I underftand not what you mean by this.
Hel. Ay, do, perfevere, counterfeit fad Looks,
Make Mouths upon me when I turn my Back,
Wink each at other, hold the fweet Jeft up:
This fport well carried, thall be chronicled.
If you have any Pity, Grace, or Manners,
You would not make me fuch an Argument:
But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine own fault,
Which Death or Abfence foon fhall remedy.
Lyf. Stay, gentle Helena, hear my Excufe;
My Love, my Soul, fair Helena,

Hel. O Excellent!

Her. Sweet, do not fcorn her fo.

Dem. If the cannot entreat, I can compel.

Lyf. Thou canft compel no more than the entreat. Thy Threats have no more ftrength than her weak Praise.

Helen, I love thee, by my Life I do;

I fwear by that which I will lofe for thee,

To prove him falfe that fays I love thee not.
Dem. I fay, I love thee more than he can do.

Lyfo

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