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son for that; and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays. The more the pity, that some honest neighbors will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Bot. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state, And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep; And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep. And I will purge thy mortal grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed!
Enter four Fairies. 1 Fai. Ready. 2 Fai.
And I. 3 Fai.
And I. 4 Fai.
Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
1 i. e. jest or scoff.
2 The fruit of a bramble called rubus cæstus; sometimes called also the blue-berry.
1 Fai. Hail, mortal!
Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I beseech your worship's name?
Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.—Your name, honest gentleman ?
Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.—Your name, I beseech you, sir ?
Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patiences well. That same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed.
Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;
SCENE II. Another Part of the Wood.
1 “I shall desire you of more acquaintance.” This kind of phraseology was not uncommon.
? A squash is an immature peascod.
3 The words are spoken ironically, as it was the prevailing opinion in Shakspeare's time, that mustard excited choler.
Enter Puck. Here comes my messenger.—How now, mad spirit ! What night-rule' now about this haunted grove ?
Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play, Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene, and entered in a brake; When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nowl“ I fixed on his head; Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly: And, at our stamp, here o’er and o'er one falls ; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus
ted choughs, ceping fowler ey him spy,
2 A patch was a common contemptuous term. 3 Barren is dull, unpregnant. Sort is company.
4 A head. 5 The chough is a bird of the daw kind.
Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latched the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
Puck. I took him sleeping,—that is finished, too, And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.
Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA.
Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so ?
Dem. So should the murdered look; and so should I,
Her. What's this to my Lysander ? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ?
Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv'st me past
the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then ? Henceforth be never numbered among men!
1 Latched or letched, licked or smeared over.
0! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake.
Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised ? mood.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore ?
Her. A privilege, never to see me more.And from thy hated presence part I so,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 sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow, For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; Which now, in some slight measure, it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down. Obe. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken
quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight. Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true. Puck. Then fate o’errules; that, one man holding
Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
Puck. I go, I go; look, how I go;
1 A touch anciently signified a trick.
4 Alluding to the ancient supposition, that every sigh was indulged at the expense of a drop of blood.