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Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ;
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Sing in your sweet lullaby :
Never harm, nor spell, nor charni,
Beetles black, approach not near ;
[Exeunt Fairies. The Queen sleeps.
S CE N E VI.
Enter Lysander and Hermia.
And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
for the comfort of the day.
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 ;
heart unto your's is knit;
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily ;
Lyf. Amen, Amen, to that fair prayer, fay I;
[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?
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
narvel, tho' Demetrius
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Hel. Do not say so, Lysander, say not so ;
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?
you sat smiling at his cruel prey :
A CT 111. SCENE I.
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
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.