Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats; and fome keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders
At our queint sports. Sing me now asleep:
Then to your offices, and let me rest.

Fairies sing.
You spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ;
Newts and blind worms, do no wrong ;

Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,

Sing in your sweet lullaby :
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm, nor spell, nor charni,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night with lullaby.

Second Fairy.
Ileaving Spiders, come not here ;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence :

Beetles black, approach not near ;
Worm, nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel with melody, &c.

First Fairy
Hence, away; now all is well:
One, aloof, stand centinel.

[Exeunt Fairies. The Queen sleeps.

Enter Oberon.
Ob. What thou feest, when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true love take:
Love and languilh 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'st, it is thy dear;
Wake, when fome vile thing is near.

[Exit Oberon.



Enter Lysander and Hermia.
Lyf. Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood;

And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We'll rest us, Hermia, if thou think it good,

for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be't fo, Lyfander ; find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will rest


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

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

Lys. O take the sense, sweet, of my conference ;
Love takes the meaning, in love's innocence ;
I mean, that


heart unto your's is knit;
So that but one heart can you 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 lo, Hermia, I do not lye.

Her. Lysander riddles very prettily ;
Now much beshrew my manners, and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander ly’d.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy,
Lie further off; in human modesty,
Such separation, as may well be faid,
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 !

Lyf. Amen, Amen, to that fair prayer, fay I;
And then end life, when I end loyalty !
Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest!
Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be prest!

[They pleept. Enter Puck. Puck. Through the forest have I gone, But Athenian found I none, On whofe eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love:

Night and filence! who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear;
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid,
And here the maiden sleeping found
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty foul! she durft not lie
Near to this lack-love kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the pow'r this charm doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eye-lid;
So awake, when I am gone :
For I niuft now to Oberon.


S CE N E VII. Enter Demetrius and Helena running. Hel. Stay, tho' thou kill me, fweet Demetrius ! Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me

thus. Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not fo. Dem. Stay, on thy peril ; I alone will


[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 she lies;
For she hath bleffed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? not with salt tears;
If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than her’s.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
For beasts, that meet me, run away for fear.
Therefore no mar

narvel, tho' 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.
Lyf. And run thro' fire I will, for thy sweet fake.

Transparent Helen, nature here shews art,


That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius ? Oh, how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword !

Hel. Do not say so, Lysander, say not so ;
What tho' he loves your Hermia? Lord, what tho'?"
Yet Hermia still loves you ; then be content.

Lys. 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 not ripe to reason; And, touching now the point of human skill, Reason 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 mock’ry 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 sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong; good footh, you do; In such disdainful inanner me to woo : But fare


well Perforce I must confefs, I thought you lord of more true gentleness: Oh, that a lady, of one man refus’d, Should of another therefore be abus'd ! [Exit.

Lyf. She sees not Hermia; Hermia, sleep thou there; And never may'st thou come Lysander near; For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings; Or as the 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 pow'rs, address your love and might To honour Helen, and to be her knight! [Exit.

Her. 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?
Lyfander, look how I do quake with fear ;
Methought a ferpent eat my heart away;

you sat smiling at his cruel prey :
Lysander ! what, remov’d? Lysander, Lord !
What, out of hearing gone? no found, no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, and if
Speak, of all loves; (I swoon almost with fear).
No? then I well perceive, you are not nigh;
Or death or you I'll find immediately. [Exit.

you hear,


A CT 111. SCENE I.

The Wood.
Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and

The Queen of Fairies lying asleep.

we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tyring-house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot. Peter Quince
Quin. What lay'st thou, bully Bottom?

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

Snowt. By’rlaken, a parlous fear.

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

But. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well: write me a prologue, and let the prologue feem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for more better assurance tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver; this will put them out of fear.

Qruin. Well, we will have such a prologue, and it Shall be written in eight and fix.


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