Her. Never fo weary, never fo in Woe. My Legs can keep no Pace with my Defires: Heav'ns fhield Lyfander, if they mean a Fray. [Lyes down. I'll apply to your Eye, gentle Lover, remedy. [Squeezing the Juice on Lyfander's Eye. When thou wak'ft thou tak❜ft True Delight in the Sight of former Lady's Eye, And the Country Proverb known, That every Man fhould take his own, In your waking fhall be known. Jack fhall have Jill, naught fhall go ill, The Man shall have his Mare again, and all be well. [Ex Puck. [They fleep. A C T IV. SCENE I. Euter Queen of Fairies, Bottom, Fairies attending, and the King behind them. Queen. COF Ome, fit thee down upon this flowry Bed, And stick Musk Rofes in thy fleek-fmooth Head, Bot. Where's Peafebloffom? Pease. Ready. Bot. Scratch my Head, Peafebloffom. Where's Monfieur Cobweb? Cob. Ready. Bot. Monfieur Cobweb, good Monfieur get your Weapons in your Hand. and kill me a red-hipt Humble-Bee on the Top of a Thiftle, and good Monfieur bring me the Honey-bag. Do not fret your felf too much in the Action, Monfieur; and good Monfieur have a Care the Honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a Honey-bag, Signior. Where's Monfieur Muftardfeed? Muft. Ready. Bot. Bot. Give me your News, Monfieur Mustard; Pray you leave your Curtefie, good-Monfieur. Muft. What's your Will? Bot. Nothing, good Monfieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch, I muft to the Barbers, Monfieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the Face. And I am fuch a tender Afs, if my Hair doth but tickle me, I must fcratch. Queen. What, wilt thou hear fome Mufick, my fweet Love? Bot. I have a reasonable good Ear in Mufick, let us have the Tongs and the Bones. Mufick Tongs, Rural Musick. Queen. Or fay, fweet Love, what thou defir'ft to cat. Bot. Truly a Peck of Provender; I would munch your good dry Oats. Methinks I have a great Defire to a Bot tle of Hay: Good Hay, fweet Hay hath no Fellow. Queen. I have a venturous Fairy That fhall feek the Squirrels Hoard, And fetch thee new Nuts. Bet. I had rather have a handful of dried Peafe. But I pray you let none of your People ftir me, I have an Expofition of Sleep come upon me. Queen. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my Arms; Fairies be gone, and be always away: So doth the Woodbine the fweet Hony-fuckle Gently entwift; the female Ivy fo Enrings the barky Fingers of the Elm. O how I love thee! how I dote on thee! Ob. Welcome, good Robin; Seeft thou this fweet Sight? Her Dotage now I do begin to pity; Like Tears that did their own Difgrace bewail. Be thou as thou waft wont to be; See as thou waft wont to fee: Hath fuch Force and bleffed Power. Now, my Titania wake you my fweet Queen, Ob. There lies your Love. Queen. How came thefe Things to pass? Than common Steep. Of all thefe find the Sense. Puck. When thou awak'ft, with thine own Fools Eyes peep. Ob. Sound Mafick; come my Queen, take Hand with me, And rock the Ground whereon thefe Sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in Amity, And will to Morrow Midnight folemnly There fhall thefe Pairs of faithful Lovers be Puck Puck. Fair King attend and mark, Ob. Then my Queen in Silence fad, Queen. Come my Lord, and in our Flight, Tell me how it came this Night, That I fleeping here was found, With these Mortals on the Ground. Enter Thefeus, Egeus, Hippolità and all his Train. We will, fair Queen, up to the Mountain's Top, Of Hounds, and Eccho in conjunction. Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, Judge when you hear. But foft, what Nymphs are these? And this Lyfander, this Demetrius is, This Helena, old Nedar's Helena; I wonder of this being here together. Thef. Thef. No doubt they rofe up early, to obferve That Hermia should give Anfwer of her Choice? Thef. Go bid the Huntsmen wake them with their Horns. Thef. I pray you all ftand up: I know you two are Rival Enemies. Lyf. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly, I came with Hermia hither. Our Intent Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord, you have enough; They would have foll'naway, they would, Demetrius, You of your Wife, and me of my Confent; Of my Confent that the fhould be your Wife. Dem. My Lord, fair Helen told me of their Stealth, Of this their Purpose hither to the Wood. And I in Fury hither follow'd them Fair Helena in Fancy follow'd me: But, my good Lord, I wot not by what Power, To Hermia, melted as the Snow, Seems to me now as the Remembrance of an idle Guade, And all the Faith, the Virtue of my Heart, |