Night and filence! who is here?

Weeds of Athens he doth wear;
This is he, my master said,
Defpifed the Athenian maid.
And here the maiden fleeping found
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty foul! fhe durft not lye
Near to this kill-curtefy. (11)
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the pow'r this charm doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let love forbid
Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid;

So awake, when I am gone:

For I must now to Oberon.

[Exit,

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, tho' thou kill me, fweet Demetrius.

Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thes. Hel. O, wilt thou darkling, leave me ? do not fo.

Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will

go.

[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 fhe lies; For the hath bleffed, and attractive, eyes, How came her eyes fo bright? not with falt tears; If fo, my eyes are ofther wash'd than hers: No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beafts, that meet me, run away for fear.

(11) Near to this lack-love, this kill curtely] Thus, in all the printed Editions. But this Verfe, as Ben Johnson fays, is broke Lovfe from his Fellows, and wants to be tyed up. I believe, the Poet wrote;

Near to this kill courtesy.

And fo the line is reduced to the Measure of the other. But this Term being fomewhat quaint and uncommon, the Players, in my Opinion, officioufly clap'd in the other, as a Comment; and fo it has ever fince held Poffeffion.

There

Therefore no marvel, tho' Demetrius
Do (as a monfter) Ay my prefence thus.
What wicked, and diffembling, glafs of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's fphery eyne?
But who is here? Lyfander on the ground:
Dead or afleep? I fee no blood, no wound:
Lyfander, if you live, good Sir, awake.

Lyf. And run thro' fire I will, for thy fweet fake.
[Waking
Tranfparent Helen, nature here fhews art,
That through thy bofom makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perish on my fword!

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander, fay not fo; What tho' he love your Hermia? lord, what tho'? Yet Hermia ftill loves you; then be content.

Lyf. 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 reafon sway'd;
And reafon fays, you are the worthier maid.
Things, growing, are not ripe until their season;
So I, being young, 'till now ripe not to reafon;
And, touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's ftories, written in love's richest book.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mock'ry born?
When at your hands did I deserve this fcorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deferve a fweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my infufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong; good footh, you do,
In fuch difdainful manner me to woo:

But fare you 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

Lyf. She fees not Hermia; Hermia, fleep thou there; And never may'st thou come Lysander near; For as a furfeit of the fweetest things The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings; Or as the herefies, that men do leave, Are hated moft of thofe they did deceive; So thou, my furfeit and my herefy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And all my pow'rs addrefs your love and might To honour Helen, and to be her knight !

[Exit. Her. Help me, Lyfander, help me! do thy beft To pluck this crawling ferpent from my breast: Ay me, for pity, what a dream was here ? Lyfander, look, how I do quake with fear; Me-thought a ferpent eat my heart away; And you fat fmiling at his cruel prey : Lyfander! what remov'd? Lysander, lord! What, out of hearing gone? no found, no word? Alack, where are you? fpeak, and if you hear, Speak, of all loves; (I fwoon almost with fear.) No?then I well perceive, you are not nigh; Or death, or you, I'll find immediately.

[Exit.

SCENE, The Wood.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt and,

A

Starveling.

The Queen of Fairies lying afleep.

Воттом.

RE we all met ?

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot fhall be our ftage, this hauthorn-brake our tyring houfe, VOL. I. F

and

and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot. Peter Quince

Quin. What fay'ft thou, bully Bottom?

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. Firft, Pyramus muft draw a fword to kill himfelf, which the ladies cannot abide. How anfwer you that?

Snowt. By'rlaken, a parlous fear.

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

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

Quin. Well, we will have fuch a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and fix.

Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.

Snowt. Will not the ladies be afraid of the lion?
Star. I fear it, I promise you.

Bot. Maflers, you ought to confider with yourselves; to bring in, God fhield us, a lion among ladies, is a moft dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to it.

Snowt. Therefore another prologue muft tell, he is not a lion.

Bot. Nay you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself muft fpeak through, faying thus, or to the fame defe&t; ladies, or fair ladies, I would with you, or I would requeft you, or I would intreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours; if you think, I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life; no, I am no fuch thing, I am a man as other men are; and there, indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.

Quin. Well, it fhall be fo; but there is two hard things, that is to bring the moon-light into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thifty meet by moonlight.

Snug. Doth the moon fhine that night we play our play?

Bot. A kalendar, a kalendar! look in the almanack ; And out moon-fhine, find out moon-fhine.

Quin. Yes, it doth fhine that night.

Bot. Why then may you leave a cafement of the great chamber window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the cafement.

Quin. Ay, or elfe one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and fay, he comes to disfigure, or to prefent, the perfon of moon-fhine. Then there is another thing; we must have a wall in the great chamber, for Pyramus and Thisby (fays the ftory) did talk through the chink of a wall. Snug. You never can bring in a wall. Bottom?

What fay you,

Bot. Some man or other muft prefent Wall; and let him have fome plafter, or fome lome, or fome roughcaft about him, to fignify wall: Or let him hold his fingers thus; and through the cranny fhall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.

Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, fit down every mother's fon, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when you have fpoken your fpeech, enter into that brake; and fo every one according to his

cue.

Enter Puck behind.

Puck. What hempen home-fpuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the fairy Queen?

What, a play tow'rd? I'll be an auditor;

An Actor too, perhaps, if I fee cause..
Quin. Speak, Pyramus; Thify, ftand forth.
Pyr. Thisby, the flower of odious favours fweet.
Quin. Odours, odours.