A Midsummer night's dream.  
As it hath been sundry times publicly acted, by the Right honourable, the Lord Chamberlain his servants.  
Written by William Shakespeare.  
¶ Imprinted at London, for Thomas Fisher, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Sign of the White Hart, in Fleetstreet. 1600.   

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.  Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others. Theseus. 
NOw fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour  
Draws on apace: four happy days bring in  
An other Moon: but oh, me thinks, how slow  
This old Moon waves! She lingers my desires,  
Like to a Stepdame, or a dowager,  
Long withering out a young man's revenue.  Hip. 
Four days will quickly steep themselves in night:  
Four nights will quickly dream away the time:  
And then the Moon, like to a silver bow,  
Now bend in heaven, shall behold the night  
Of our solemnities.  The. 
Go Philostrate,  
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments,  
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,  
Turn melancholy forth to funerals:  
The pale companion is not for our pomp.  
Hyppolita, I wooed thee with my sword,  
And won thy love, doing thee injuries:  
But I will wed thee in another key,  
With pomp, with triumph, and with reveling.  Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, and Lysander and Helena, and Demetrius'. Ege. 
Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke.  The. 
Thanks good Egeus. What's the news with thee?  Ege. 
Full of vexation, come I, with complaint  
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.  Stand forth Demetrius. 
My noble Lord,  
This man hath my consent to marry her.  Stand forth Lisander. 
And my gracious Duke,  
This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child.  
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,  
And interchanged love tokens with my child:  
Thou hast, by moonlight, at her window sung,  
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love,  
And stolen the impression of her fantasy:  
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gauds, conceits,  
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet meats (messengers  
Of strong prevailement in unhardened youth)  
With cunning hast thou filched my daughter's heart,  
Turned her obedience (which is due to me)  
To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious Duke,  
Be it so, she will not here, before your Grace,  
Consent to marry with Demetrius,  
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens:  
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:  
Which shall be, either to this gentleman,  
Or to her death; according to our law,  
Immediately provided, in that case.  The, 
What say you, Hermia? Be advised, fair maid.  
To you, your father should be as a God:  
One that composed your beauties: yea and one,  
To whom you are but as a form in wax,  
By him imprinted, and within his power,  
To leave the figure, or disfigure it:  
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.  Her. 
So is Lisander.  The. 
In himself he is:  
But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,  
The other must be held the worthier.  Her. 
I would my father looked but with my eyes.  The. 
Rather your eyes must, with his judgement, look,  Her. 
I do entreat your grace, to pardon me.  
I know not by what power, I am made bold;  
Nor how it may concern my modesty,  
In such a presence, here to plead my thoughts:  
But I beseech your Grace, that I may know  
The worst that may befall me in this case,  
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.  The. 
Either to die the death, or to abjure,  
For ever, the society of men.  
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,  
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,  
Whether (if you yield not to your father's choice)  
You can endure the livery of a Nun,  
For aye to be in shady cloister, mewed  
To live a barren sister all your life,  
Chanting faint hymns, to the cold fruitless Moon.  
Thrice blessed they, that master so there blood,  
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage:  
But earthlyer happy is the rose distilled,  
Then that, which, withering on the virgin thorn,  
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.  Her, 
So will I grow, so live, so die my Lord,  
Ere I will yield my virgin Patent, up  
Unto his Lordship, whose unwished yoke  
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.  The. 
Take time to pause, and by the next new moon,  
The sealing day, betwixt my love and me,  
For everlasting bond of fellowship,  
Upon that day either prepare to die,  
For disobedience to your father's will,  
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would,  
Or on Diana's altar to protest,  
For aye, austerity and single life.  Deme. 
Relent, sweet Hermia, and, Lysander, yield  
Thy crazed title to my certain right.  Lys. 
You have her father's love, Demetrius:  
Let me have Hermias: do you marry him.  Egeus. 
Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love:  
And what is mine, my love shall render him.  
And she is mine, and all my right of her  
I do estate unto Demetrius.  Lysand. 
I am my lord, as well derived as he,  
As well possessed: my love is more than his:  
My fortunes every way as fairly ranked  
(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:  
And (which is more than all these boasts can be)  
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia.  
Why should not I then procecute my right?  
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,  
Made love to Nedars' daughter, Helena,  
And won her soul: and she (sweet Lady) dotes,  
Devoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,  
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.  The. 
I must confess, that I have heard so much;  
And, with Demetrius', thought to have spoke thereof:  
But, being overfull of self affairs,  
My mind did lose it, But Demetrius come,  
And come Egeus, you shall go with me:  
I have some private schooling for you both.  
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself,  
To fit your fancies, to your father's will;  
Or else, the Law of Athens yields you up  
(Which by no means we may extenuate)  
To death, or to a vow of single life.  
Come my Hyppolita: what cheer my love?  
Demetrius and Egeus go along:  
I must employ you in some business,  
Against our nuptial, and confer with you  
Of some thing, nearly that concerns yourselves.  Ege. 
With duty desire, we follow you. Exeunt.  Lysand. 
How now my love? Why is your cheek so pale▪  
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?  Her. 
Belike, for want of rain: which I could well  
Beteem them, from the tempest of my eyes.  Lis. 
Eigh me: for aught that I could ever read,  
Can ever here by tale or history,  
The course of true love never did run smooth:  
But either it was different in blood;  Her. 
O cross! too high to be enthralled to love.  Lis. 
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;  Her. 
O spite! too old to be engaged to young.  Lis. 
Or else, it stood upon the choice of friends;  Her. 
O hell, to choose love by another's eyes!  Lys. 
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,  
War, death or sickness, did lay siege to it;  
Making it momentany, as a sound;  
Swift, as a shadow; short, as any dream;  
Brief, as the lightning in the collied night,  
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heaven and earth;  
And, ere a man hath power to say, behold,  
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:  
So quick bright things come to confusion.  Her. 
If then true lovers have been ever crossed.  
It stands as an edict, in destiny:  
Then let us teach our trial patience:  
Because it is a customary cross,  
As dew to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,  
Wishes, and tears; poor Fancies followers.  Lys. 
A good persuasion: therefore hear me, Hermia:  
I have a widow aunt, a dowager,  
Of great revenue, and she hath no child▪  
From Athens is her house remote, seven leagues▪  
And she respects me, as her only son:  
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee:  
And to that place, the sharp Athenian law  
Can not pursue us. If thou lovest me, then  
Steal forth thy father's house, tomorrow night:  
And in the wood, a league without the town  
(Where I did meet thee once with Helena  
To do observance to a morn of May)  
There will I stay for thee.  Her. 
My good Lysander,  
I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow,  
By his best arrow, with the golden head,  
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,  
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves,  
And by that fire, which burnt the Carthage queen,  
When the false Trojan under sail was seen,  
By all the vows that ever men have broke,  
(In number more than ever women spoke)  
In that same place thou hast appointed me,  
To morrow truly will I meet with thee.  Lys. 
Keep promise love: look, here comes Helena.  Enter Helena. Her. 
God speed fair Helena: whither away?  Hel. 
Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.  
Demetrius loves your fair: o happy fair!  
Your eyes are loadstars, and your tongues sweet air  
More tunable than lark, to shepherds ear,  
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.  
Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,  
Your words I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go,  
My ear should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,  
My tongue should catch your tongues sweet melody.  
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,  
The rest i'll give to be to you translated.  
O, teach me how you look, and with what Art,  
You sway the motion of Demetrius heart.  Her. 
I frown upon him; yet he loves me still.  Hel. 
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill.  Her. 
I give him curses; yet he gives me love.  Hel. 
O that my prayers could such affection move.  Her. 
The more I hate, the more he follows me.  Hel. 
The more I love, the more he hateth me.  Her. 
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.  Hel. 
None but your beauty; would that fault were mine.  Her. 
Take comfort; he no more shall see my face:  
Lysander and myself will sly this place.  
Before the time I did Lisander see,  
Seemed Athens as a Paradise to me.  
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,  
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell!  Lys. 
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:  
To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold  
Her silver visage, in the watery glass,  
Decking, with liquid pearl, the bladed grass  
(A time, that lovers flights doth still conceal)  
Through Athens gates, have we devised to steal▪  Her. 
And in the wood, where often you and I,  
Upon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lie,  
Emptying our bosoms, of their counsel swelled,  
There my Lysander, and myself shall meet,  
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes,  
To seek new friends and strange companions.  
Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us:  
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius.  
Keep word Lysander: we must starve our sight,  
From lovers food, till morrow deep midnight.  Exit Hermia. Lys. 
I will my Hermia. Helena adieu:  
As you on him, Demetrius' dote on you. Exit Lysander.  Hele. 
How happy some, o'er othersome, can be!  
Through Athens, I am thought as fair as she.  
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so:  
He will not know, what all, but he do know.  
And as he errs, doting on Hermias eyes:  
So I, admiring of his qualities.  
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,  
Love can transpose to form and dignity.  
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind:  
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.  
Nor hath loves mind of any judgement taste:  
Wings, and no eyes, figure, unheedy haste.  
And therefore is love said to be a child:  
Because, in choice, he is so oft beguiled.  
As waggish boys, in game, themselves forswear:  
So, the boy, Love, is perjured every where.  
For, ere Demetrius looked on Hermias eyen,  
He hailed down oaths, that he was only mine.  
And when this hail some heat, from Hermia, felt,  
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.  
I will go tell him of fair Hermias flight:  
Then, to the wood, will he, to morrow night,  
Pursue her: and for this intelligence,  
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:  
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,  
To have his sight thither, and back again. Exit.  Enter Quince, the Carpenter; and Snug, the joiner; and Bottom, the Weaver; and Flute, the bellows mender; & Snout, the Tinker; and Starveling the Tailor. Quin. 
Is all our company here?  Bot. 
You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.  Quin. 
Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our Interlude, before the Duke, & the Duchess, on his wedding day at night.  Bott. 
First good Peter Quince, say what the Play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: & so grow to a point.  Quin. 
Mary, our Play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe.  Bot. 
A very good piece of work, I assure you, & a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors, by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.  Quin. 
Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the Weaver?  Bott. 
Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed.  Quin. 
You, Nick Bottom are set down for Pyramus.  Bott. 
What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?  Quin. 
A lover that kills himself, most gallant, for love.  Bott. 
That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the Audience look to their eyes: I will move storms: I will condole, in some measure. To the rest yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant. I could play Hercules rarely, or a part to tear a Catin, to make all split the raging rocks: and shivering shocks, shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus car shall shine from far, and make & mar the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now, name the rest of the Players. This is Hercules vain, a tyrant's vain: A lover is more condoling.  Quin. 
Francis Flute, the bellows mender?  Flu. 
Here Peter Quince.  Quin. 
Flute, you must take Thisbe, on you.  Fla. 
What is Thisbe? A wandering knight?  Quin. 
It is the Lady, that Pyramus must love.  Fl. 
Nay faith: let not me play a woman: I have a beard coming.  Quin. 
That's all one: you shall play it in a Mask: and you may speak as small as you will.  Bott. 
And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbe to: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice; Thisbe, Thisbe, ah Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thysby dear, & Lady dear.  Qu. 
No, no▪ you must play Pyramus: & Flute, you Thysby.  Bot. 
Well, proceed.  Qui. 
Robin Starveling, the Tailor?  Star. 
Here Peter Quince.  Quin. 
Robin Starveling, you must play Thysbyes' mother▪ Tom Snout, the Tinker?  snout. 
Here Peter Quince.  Quin. 
You, Pyramus father; myself, Thisbe's father; Snug, the joiner, you the lions part: And I hope here is a Play fitted.  Snug. 
Have you the lions part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me▪ for I am slow of study.  Quin. 
You may do it, extempore: for it is nothing but roaring.  Bott. 
Let me play the Lion to. I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to heat me. I will roar, that I will make the Duke say; Let him roar again: let him roar again.  Quin. 
And you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Duchess, and the Ladies, that they would shriek: and that were enough to hang us all.  All. 
That would hang us, every mother's son.  Bot. 
I grant you, friends, if you should fright the Ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion, but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently, as any sucking dove: I will roar you, and 'twere any Nightingale.  Quin. 
You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus is a sweet faced man; a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most lovely gentlemanlike man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus.  Bot. 
Well: I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?  Quin. 
Why? what you will.  Bot. 
I will discharge it, in either your straw colour beard, your Orange tawny beard, your purple in grain beard, or your french crown colour beard, your perfect yellow.  Quin. 
Some of your french crowns have no hair at all; and than you will play bare faced. But masters here are your parts, and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by Moonlight; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you fail me not.  Bot 
We will meet, & there we may rehearse most obscenely, and courageously. Take pains, be perfect: adieu.  Quin. 
At the Duke's oak we meet.  Bot. 
Enough: hold, or cut bowstrings. Exeunt.  ¶ Enter a Fairy at one door, and Robin goodfellow at another. Robin. 
How now spirit, whither wander you?  Fa. 
Over hill, over dale, through bush, through brier,  
Over park, over pale, through flood, through fire:  
I do wander every where; swifter than the Moon's sphere:  
And I serve the Fairy Queen, to due her orbs upon the green.  
The cowslippes tall her Pensioners be,  
In their gold coats, spots you see:  
Those be Rubies, Fairy favours:  
In those freckles, live their savours.  
I must go seek some dew drops here,  
And hang a pearl in every couslippes ear.  
Farewell thou Lobbe of spirits: I'll be gone.  
Our Queen, and all her Elves come here anon.  Rob. 
The king doth keep his Revels here to night.  
Take heed the Queen come not within his sight.  
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath:  
Because that she, as her attendant, hath  
A lovely boy stolen, from an Indian king:  
She never had so sweet a changeling.  
And jealous Oberon would have the child,  
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild.  
But she, perforce, withhoulds the loved boy,  
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.  
And now, they never meet in grove, or green,  
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,  
But they do square, that all their Elves, for fear,  
Creep into a corn cups, and hide them there.  Fa. 
Either I mistake your shape, and making, quite,  
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish spirit,  
Called Robin goodfellow. Are not you he,  
That frights the maidens of the Villageree,  
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the querne,  
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,  
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,  
Misled nightwanderers, laughing at their harm?  
Those, that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,  
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.  
Are not you he?  Rob. 
Thou speakest aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night.  
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,  
When I a fat and beanefed horse beguile;  
neighing, in likeness of a silly fool,  
And sometime lurk In a gossippes' bowl,  
In very likeness of a roasted crab,  
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,  
And on her withered dewlop, pour the ale.  
The wisest Aunt, telling the saddest tale,  
Sometime, for three foot stool, mistaketh me:  
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,  
And tailor cries, and falls into a cough;  
And then the whole Choir hold their hips, and loaf,  
And waxed in their mirth, and sneeze, and swear  
A merrier hour was never wasted there.  
But room Fairy: here comes Oberon.  Fa. 
And here, my mistress. Would that he were gone.  Enter the King of Fairies, at one door, with his train: and the Queen, at another, with hers. Ob. 
Ill met by moonlight, proud Tytania.  Qu. 
What, jealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.  
I have forsworn his bed, and company.  Ob. 
Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy Lord?  Qu. 
Then I must be thy Lady: but I know  
When thou hast stolen away from Fairy land,  
And in the shape of Corin, sat all day,  
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love,  
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here  
Come from the farthest step of India?  
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,  
Your buskined mistress, and your warrior love,  
To Theseus must be wedded; and you come,  
To give their bed, joy and prosperity.  Ob. 
How canst thou thus, for shame, Tytania,  
Glance at my credit, with Hippolita?  
Knowing, I know thy love to Theseus.  
Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night.  
From Perigenia, whom he ravished?  
And make him, with fair Eagles, break his faith  
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?  Quee. 
These are the forgeries of jealousy:  
And never, since the middle summers spring,  
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,  
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,  
Or in the beached margin of the Sea,  
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,  
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.  
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,  
As in revenge, have sucked up, from the Sea,  
Contagious fogs: which, falling in the land,  
Hath every pelting river made so proud,  
That they have overborne their Continents.  
The Ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain,  
The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn  
Hath rotten, ere his youth attained a beard:  
The fold stands empty, in the drowned field,  
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock.  
The nine men's Morris is filled up with mud:  
And the quaint Mazes, in the wanton green,  
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable.  
The human mortals want their winter here.  
No night is now with hymn or carol blessed.  
Therefore the Moon (the governess of floods)  
Pale in her anger, washes all the air;  
That Rheumatic diseases do abound.  
And, through this distemperature, we see  
The seasons alter: hoary headed frosts  
Fall in the fresh lap of the Crimson rose,  
And on old Hiems chin and Icy crown,  
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds  
Is, as in mockery, set. The Spring, the Summer,  
The childing Autumn, angry Winter change  
Their wont Liveries: and the mazed world,  
By their increase, now knows not which is which:  
And this same progeny of evils,  
Comes from our debate, from our dissension:  
We are their Parents and original.  Oberon. 
Do you amend it then: it lies in you.  
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?  
I do but beg a little Changeling boy,  
To be my Henchman.  Queen. 
Set your heart at rest.  
The Fairy Land buys not the child of me▪  
His mother was a Votress of my order:  
And in the spiced Indian air, by night,  
Full often hath she gossipped, by my side,  
And sat, with me on Neptune's yellow sands  
Marking th'embarked traders on the flood:  
When we have laughed to see the sails conceive,  
And grow big bellied, with the wanton wind:  
Which she, with pretty, and with swimming gate,  
Following (her womb then rich with my young squire)  
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,  
To fetch me trifles, and return again,  
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.  
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die,  
And, for her sake, do I rear up her boy:  
And, for her sake, I will not part with him.  Ob. 
How long, within this wood, intend you stay?  Quee. 
Perchance, till after Theseus' wedding day.  
If you will patiently dance in our Round,  
And see our Moonlight Revels, go with us:  
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.  Ob. 
Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.  Quee. 
Not for thy Fairy kingdom. Fairy's away.  
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. Exeunt.  Ob. 
Well: go thy way. Thou shalt not from this grove,  
Till I torment thee, for this injury.  
My gentle Pucke come hither: thou remember'st,  
Since once I sat upon a promontory,  
And heard a Mere maid, on a Dolphin's back,  
Uttering such dulcet and hermonious breath,  
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,  
And cettaine stars shot madly from their Spheres,  
To hear the Sea-maids music.  Puck. 
I remember.  Ob. 
That very time, I saw (but thou couldst not)  
Flying between the cold Moon and the earth,  
Cupid, all armed: a certain aim he took  
At a fair Vestal, throned by west,  
And loosed his love-shaft smartly, from his bow,  
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:  
But, I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft  
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery Moon:  
And the imperial Votress passed on,  
In maiden meditation, fancy free.  
Yet marked I, where the bolt of Cupid fell.  
It fell upon a little western flower;  
Before, milk white; now purple, with loves wound,  
And maidens call it, Love in idleness.  
Fetch me that flower: the herb I showed thee once.  
The juice of it, on sleeping eyelids laid,  
Will make or man or woman madly dote,  
Upon the next live creature that it sees.  
Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again  
E'er the Leviathan can swim a league.  Pu. 
I'll put a girdle, round about the earth, in forty minutes.  Oberon. 
Having once this juice,  
I'll watch Titania, when she is a sleep,  
And drop the liquor of it, in her eyes:  
The next thing than she, waking, looks upon  
(Be it on Lion, Bear, or Wolf, or Bull,  
On meddling Monkey, or on busy Ape)  
She shall pursue it, with the soul of love.  
And ere I take this charm, from of her sight  
(As I can take it with another herb)  
I'll make her render up her Page, to me.  
But, who comes here? I am invisible,  
And I will overhear their conference.  Enter Demetrius, Helena following him. Deme. 
I love thee not: therefore pursue me not▪  
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia?  
The one I'll stay: the other stayeth me.  
Thou toldst me, they were stolen unto this wood:  
And here am I, and wood, within this wood:  
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.  
Hence, get the gone, and follow me no more.  Hel. 
You draw me, you hard hearted Adamant:  
But yet you draw not Iron. For my heart  
Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw,  
And I shall have no power to follow you.  Deme. 
Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?  
Or rather do I not in plainest truth,  
Tell you I do not, not I cannot love you?  Hele. 
And even, for that, do I love you, the more:  
I am your Spaniel: and, Demetrius',  
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.  
Use me but as your Spaniel: spurn me, strike me,  
Neglect me, lose me: only give me leave  
(Unworthy as I am) to follow you.  
What worse place can I beg, in your love  
(And yet, a place of high respect with me)  
Then to be used as you use your dog.  Deme. 
Tempt not, too much, the hatred of my spirit.  
For I am sick, when I do look on thee.  Hele. 
And I am sick, when I look not on you.  Deme. 
You do impeach your modesty too much,  
To leave the city, and commit yourself,  
Into the hands of one that loves you not,  
To trust the opportunity of night,  
And the ill counsel of a desert place,  
With the rich worth of your virginity.  Hel. 
Your virtue is my privilege: For that  
It is not night, when I do see your face.  
Therefore, I think, I am not in the night,  
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company.  
For you, in my respect, are all the world.  
Then, how can it be said, I am alone,  
When all the world is here, to look on me?  Dems. 
I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,  
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.  Hel. 
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.  
Run when you will: The story shall be changed:  
Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase:  
The Dove pursues the Griffon: the mild Hind  
Makes speed to catch the Tiger. Bootless speed,  
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.  Demet. 
I will not stay thy questions. Let me go:  
Or if thou follow me, do not believe,  
But I shall do thee mischief, in the wood.  Hel. 
I, in the Temple, in the town, the field,  
You do me mischief. Fie Demetrius.  
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:  
We cannot fight for love, as men may do:  
We should be wooed, and were not made to woo.  
I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,  
To die upon the hand I love so well.  Ob. 
Far thee well Nymph. Ere he do leave this grove,  
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.  
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.  Enter Pucke. Puck. 
I, there it is.  Ob. 
I pray thee give it me.  
I know a bank where the wild time blows,  
Where Oxlips, and the nodding Violet grows,  
Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine,  
With sweet musk roses, and with Eglantine:  
There sleeps Tytania, sometime of the night,  
Lulled in these flowers, with dances and delight:  
And there the snake throws her enameled skin,  
Weed wide enough to wrap a Fairy in.  
And, with the juice of this, I'll streak her eyes,  
And make her full of hateful fantasies.  
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:  
A sweet Athenian Lady is in love,  
With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes.  
But do it, when the next thing he espies,  
May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,  
By the Athenian garments he hath on.  
Effect it with some care; that he may prove  
More fond on her, than she upon her love:  
And look thou meet me ere the first Cock crow.  Pu. 
Fear not my Lord: your servant shall do so. Exeunt.  Enter Tytania Queen of Fairies, with her train. Quee. 
Come, now a roundel, and a Fairy song:  
Then, for the third part of a minute hence,  
Some to kill cankers in the musk rose buds,  
Some war with Reremise, for their lethrens wings,  
To make my small Elves coats, and some keep back  
The clamorous Owl, that nightly hootes and wonders  
At our quaint spirits: Sing me now a sleep:  
Then to your offices, and let me rest.  Fairies sing. 
You spotted Snakes, with double tongue,  
Thorny Hedge hogs be not seen,  
Newts and blind worms do no wrong,  
Come not near our Fairy Queen.  
Philomele, with melody,  
Sing in our sweet Lullaby,  
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,  
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,  
Come our lovely lady nigh.  
So good night, with lullaby.  1. Fai. 
Weaving Spiders come not here▪  
Hence you long legged Spinners, hence:  
Beetles black approach not near:  
Worm nor snail do no offence.  
Philomele with melody, etc.  2. Fai. 
Hence away: now all is well:  
One aloof, stand Sentinel.  Enter Oberon. Ob. 
What thou seest, when thou dost wake,  
Do it for thy true love take:  
Love and languish for his sake.  
Be it Ounce, or Cat, or Bear,  
Pard, or Boar with bristled hair,  
In thy eye that shall appear,  
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:  
Wake, when some vile thing is near.  Enter Lysander: and Hermia. Lys. 
Fair love, you faint, with wandering in the wood:  
And to speak troth I have forgot our way.  
we'll rest us Hermia, if you think it good,  
And tatty for the comfort of the day.  Her. 
Bet it so Lysander: find you out a bed:  
For I, upon this bank, will rest my head.  Lys. 
One turf shall serve, as pillow, for us both,  
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.  Her. 
Nay god Lysander: for my sake, my dear  
lie further off, yet; do not lie so near.  Lys. 
O take the sense, sweet, of my innocence.  
Love takes the meaning, in loves conference▪  
I mean that my heart unto yours it knit;  
So that but one heart we can make of it:  
Two bosoms interchained with an oath:  
So then two bosoms, and a single troth.  
Then, by your side, no bedroom me deny:  
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.  Her. 
Lysander riddles very prettily.  
Now much be shrew my manners, and my pride,  
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.  
But gentle friend, for love and courtesy,  
Lie further off, in human modesty:  
Such separation, as may well be said  
Becomes a virtuous bachelor, and a maid,  
So far be distant, and good night sweet friend:  
Thy love near alter till thy sweet life end.  Lys. 
Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I,  
And then end life, when I end loyalty.  
Hear is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest.  Her. 
With half that wish, the wishers eyes be priest.  Enter Pucke. Puck. 
Through the forest have I gone:  
But Athenian found I none,  
On whose eyes I might approve  
This flowers force in stirring love.  
Night and silence. Who is here?  
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:  
This is he (my master said)  
Despised the Athenian maid:  
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,  
On the dank and dirty ground.  
Pretty soul, she durst not lie,  
Near this lack-love, this kil-curtesie.  
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw  
All the power this charm doth owe:  
When thou wakest, let love forbid  
Sleep, his seat, on thy eye lid.  
So awake, when I am gone:  
For I must now to Oberon. Exit.  Enter Demetrius and Helena running. Hel. 
Stay; though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.  De. 
I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus  Hele. 
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.  De. 
Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go.  Hel. 
O, I am out of breath, in this fond chase,  
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.  
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies:  
For she hath blessed, and attractive eyes.  
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears,  
If so, my eyes are oftener washed than hers.  
No, no: I am as ugly as a Bear:  
For beasts that meet me, run away, for fear.  
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius  
Do, as a monster, fly my presence, thus.  
What wicked and dissembling glass, of mine,  
Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyen!  
But, who is here? Lysander, on the ground?  
Dead, or a sleep? I see no blood, no wound,  
Lysander, if you live, good sir awake.  Lys. 
And run through fire, I will for thy sweet sake.  
Transparent Helena, nature shows 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 though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?  
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 swayed:  
And reason says you are the worthier maid.  
Things growing are not ripe, until their season:  
So I, being young, till now ripe not 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  
loves stories, written in loves richest book.  Hel. 
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery borne?  
When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn?  
be't not enough, be'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 sooth you do)  
In such disdainful manner, me to woo.  
But, far you well: perforce, I must confess,  
I thought you Lord of more true gentleness.  
O, that a Lady, of one man refused,  
Should, of another, therefore be abused! Exit.  Lys. 
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there,  
And never mayst 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 powers 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?  
Lysander look, how I do quake with fear.  
Me thought, a serpent eat my heart away,  
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.  
Lysander what, removed? Lysander, Lord,  
What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?  
Alack where are you? Speak, and if you hear:  
Speak, of all loves. I swoon almost with fear.  
No, than I well perceive, you are not nigh:  
Either death, or you, I'll find immediately. Exit.  Enter the Clowns. Bott. 
Are we all met?  Quin. 
Pat, pat: and here's a marvels convenient place, for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn broke our tiring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.  Bott. 
Peter Quince?  Quin. 
What sayest thou, bully, Bottom?  Bot. 
There are things in this Comedy, of Pyramus and Thisbe, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword, to kill himself; which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?  Snout. 
Berlakin, a perilous fear.  Star. 
I believe, we must leave the kill, out, when all is done.  Bott. 
Not a whit: I have a devise to make all well. Writ me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seem to say; we will do no harm, with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed: and for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.  Quin. 
Well: we will have such a Prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six.  Bot. 
No: make it two more: let it be written in eight & eight.  Snout. 
Will not the ladies be afeard of the Lion?  Star. 
I fear it, I promise you.  Bot. 
Masters, you ought to consider with yourself, to bring in (God shield us) a Lion among Ladies, is a most dreadful thing. For there is not a more fearful wild foul than your Lion living: & we ought to look totoot.  Sno. 
Therefore, another Prologue must 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 must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would entreat 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 such thing: I am a man as other men are: & there indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snugge, the joiner.  Quin. 
Well: it shall be so: but there is two hard things; that is, to bring the Moonlight into a chamber: for you know, Pyramus and Thisbe meet by Moonlight.  Sn. 
Doth the Moon shine, that night, we play our Play?  Bo. 
A Calendar, a Calendar: look in the Almanac: find out Moonshine, find out Moonshine.  Quin. 
Yes: it doth shine that night.  Cet. 
Why then, may you leave a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open; and the Moon may shine in at the casement.  Quin. 
I: or else, one must come in, with a bush of thorns, & a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing; we must have a wall in the great chamber: for Pyramus & Thisbe (says the story) did talk through the chink of a wall.  Sno. 
You can never bring in a wall. What say you Bottom?  Bot. 
Some man or other must present wall: and let him have some plaster, or some lome, or some rough cast, about him, to signify wall; or let him hold his fingers thus: and through that cranny, shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.  Quin. 
If that may be, than all is well. Come, sit down every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so every one according to his cue.  Enter Robin. Ro. 
What hempen homespunnes have we swagging here,  
So near the Cradle of the Fairy Queen?  
What, a play toward? I'll be an Auditor,  
An Actor to perhaps, If I see cause.  Quin. 
Speak Pyramus: Thysby stand forth.  Pyra. 
Thisbe the flowers of odious savours sweet.  Quin. 
Odours, odorous.  Py. 
Odours savours sweet.  
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.  
But hark, a voice: stay thou but here a while,  
And by and by I will to thee appear. Exit.  Quin. 
A stranger Pyramus, then ere played here.  This. 
Must I speak now?  Quin. 
I marry must you. For you must understand, he goes but to see a noise, that he heard, and is to come again.  This. 
Most radiant Pyramus, most lily white of hew,  
Of colour like the redrose, on triumphant briar,  
Most brisky Iwenall, and eke most lovely jew,  
As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,  
I'll meet thee Pyramus, at Ninnies tomb.  Quin. 
Ninus tomb, man. Why? you must not speak  
That yet. That you answer to Pyramus. You speak  
All your part at once, cues, and, all. Pyramus, enter: your cue is past: It is; never tyre.  This. 
O, as true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.  Py. 
If I were fair, Thysby, I were only thine.  Quin. 
O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray masters: fly masters: help.  Rob. 
I'll follow you: I'll lead you about a Round,  
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through briar:  
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,  
A hog, a headelesse Bear, sometime a fire,  
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,  
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. Exit.  Bott. 
Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard. Enter Snout.  Sn. 
O Bottom, thou art changed. What do I see on thee?  Bot. 
What do you see? You see an Ass head of your own. Do you?  Enter Quince. Quin. 
Bless thee Bottom, bless thee. Thou art translated. Exit.  Bot. 
I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of me, to fright me, if they could: but I will not stir from this place, do what they can. I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.  
The Woosell cock, so black of hew,  
With Orange tawny bill,  
The Throstle, with his note so true,  
The Wren, with little quill.  Tytania. 
What Angel wakes me from my flowery bed?  Bot. 
The Fynch, the sparrow, and the Lark,  
The plainsong Cuckoo grey:  
Whose note, full many a man doth mark,  
And dares not answer, nay.  
For indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?  
Who would give a bird the lie, though he cry Cuckoo, never so?  Tita. 
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.  
Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note:  
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape,  
And thy fair virtues force (perforce) doth move me,  
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.  Bott. 
Me thinks mistress, you should have little reason for that. And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together, now a days. The more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay I can gleek, upon occasion.  Tyta. 
Thou art as wise, as thou art beautiful.  Bott. 
Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.  Tyta. 
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 eyrie spirit, go.  
Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, and mustard-seed?  Enter four Fairies. Fairies. 
Ready: and I, and I, and I. Where shall we go?  Tita. 
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman,  
Hop in his walks, and gambole in his eyes,  
Feed him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,  
With purple Grapes, green figs, and Mulberries,  
The honey bags steal from the humble Bees,  
And for night tapers, crop their waxed thighs,  
And light them at the fiery Glow-worms eyes,  
To have my love to bed, and to arise,  
And pluck the wings, from painted Butterflies,  
To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes,  
Nod to him Elves, and do him courtesies.  1. Fai. 
Hail mortal, hail.  2. Fai. 
Hail.  3. Fai. 
Hail.  Bot. 
I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your worships name.  Cob. 
Cobwebbe.  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?  Pea. 
Pease-blossome.  Bot. 
I pray you commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shall desire you of more acquaintance, to. Your name I beseech you sir?  Must. 
Mustardseed.  Bot. 
Good master Mustardseed, I know your patience will. That same cowardly, giantlike, Ox-beefe 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 Mustardseed.  Tita. 
Come wait upon him: lead him to my bower.  
The Moon, me thinks, looks with a watery eye:  
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,  
Lamenting some enforced chastity.  
Tie up my lovers tongue, bring him silently. Exit.  Enter King of Fairies, and Robin goodfellow. Ob. 
I wonder if Titania be awaked;  
Then what it was, that next came in her eye,  
Which she must dote on, in extremity.  
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 Mechanical,  
That work for bread, upon Athenian stalls,  
Were met together to rehearse a play,  
Intended for great Theseus nuptial day:  
The shallowest thickskinne, 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' noll I fixed on his head.  
Anon his Thisbie must be answered,  
And forth my Minnick comes. When they him spy;  
As wild geese, that the creeping Fouler eye,  
Or russet pated choughs, many in sort  
(Rising, and cawing, at the guns report)  
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky:  
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly,  
And at our stamp, here over and over, one falls:  
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.  
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus strong,  
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong.  
For, briars and thorns, at their apparel, snatch:  
Some sleeves, some hats; from yielders, all things catch▪  
I led them on, in this distracted fear,  
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:  
When in that moment (so it came to pass)  
Tytania waked, and strait way loved an Ass.  Ob. 
This falls out better, than I could devise.  
But hast thou yet latcht the Athenians eyes,  
With the love juice, as I did bid thee do?  Rob. 
I took him sleeping (that is finished to)  
And the Athenian woman, by his side;  
That when he waked, of force she must be eyed.  Enter Demetrius and Hermia. Ob. 
Stand close: this is the same Athenian.  Rob. 
This is the woman: but not this the man.  Demet. 
O, Why rebuke you him, that loves you so?  
Lay breath so bitter, on your bitter foe.  Her. 
Now I but chide: but I should use thee worse.  
For thou (I fear) hast given me cause to curse.  
If thou hast stain Lysander, in his sleep;  
Being over shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, & kill me to.  
The Sun was not so true unto the day,  
As he to me. Would he have stolen away,  
Frow sleeping Hermia? I'll believe, as soon,  
This whole earth may be bored, and that the Moon  
May through the Centre creep, and so displease  
Her brothers noontide, with th' Antipodes.  
It cannot be, but thou hast murdered him.  
So should a murderer look; so dead, so grim.  Dem. 
So should the murdered look, and so should I,  
Pierced through the heart, with your stern cruelty.  
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,  
As yonder Venus, in her glimmering sphere.  Her. 
What's this to my Lysander? Where is he?  
Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?  Deme. 
I had rather give his carcase to my hounds.  Her. 
Out dog, out cur: thou drivest me past the bounds  
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then?  
Henceforth be never numbered among men.  
O, once tell true: tell true, even for my sake:  
Durst thou have looked upon him, being awake?  
And hast thou killed him, sleeping? O brave touch!  
Can not a worm, an Adder do so much?  
An Adder did it: For with doubler tongue  
Than thine (thou serpent) never Adder stung.  Deme. 
You spend your passion, on a misprised mood:  
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood:  
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.  Her. 
I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well.  De. 
And if I could, what should I get therefore?  Her. 
A privilege, never to see me more:  
And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more;  
Whether he be dead or no. Exit.  Deme. 
There is no following her in this fierce vain.  
Hear therefore, for a while, I will remain.  
So sorrows heaviness doth heavier grow.  
For debt that bankrupt flippe doth sorrow owe:  
Which now in some slight measure it will pay;  
If for his tender here I make some stay. Lie down.  Ob. 
What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,  
And laid the love juice on some true loves sight.  
Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue  
Some true love turned, and not a false turned true.  Robi. 
Then fate o'errules, that one man holding troth,  
A million fail, confounding oath on oath▪  Ob. 
About the wood, go swifter than the wind,  
And Helena of Athens look thou find.  
All fancy sick she is and pale of cheer,  
With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.  
By some illusion see thou bring her here:  
I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear.  Robin. 
I go, I go, look how I go.  
Swifter than arrow, from the Tartars bow.  Ob. 
Flower of this purple die,  
Hit with Cupid's archery,  
Sink in apple of his eye,  
When his love he doth espy,  
Let her shine as gloriously  
As the Venus of the sky.  
When thou wakest, if she be by,  
Beg of her, for remedy.  Enter Puck. Puck. 
Captain of our Fairy band,  
Helena is here at hand,  
And the youth, mistook by me,  
Pleading for a lovers fee.  
Shall we their fond pageant see?  
Lord, what fools these mortals be!  Ob. 
Stand aside. The noise, they make,  
Will cause Demetrius to awake▪  Pu. 
Then will two, at once, woo one:  
That must needs be sport alone.  
And those things do best please me,  
That befall prepost'rously.  Enter Lysander, and Helena. Lys. 
Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn?  
Scorn, and derision, never come in tears.  
Look when I vow, I weep: and vows so borne,  
In their nativity all truth appears▪  
How can these things, in me, seem scorn to you?  
Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true▪  Hel. 
You do advance your cunning, more, and more,  
When truth kills truth, o devilish holy fray!  
These vows are Hermias. Will you give her over?  
Weigh oath, with oath, and you will nothing weigh.  
Your vows to her, and me (put in two scales)  
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.  Lys. 
I had no judgement, when to her I swore.  Hel. 
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her over.  Lys. 
Demetrius loves her: and he loves not you.  Deme. 
O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect divine,  
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyen!  
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe, in show,  
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!  
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,  
Fand with the Eastern wind, turns to a crow,  
When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss  
This Princess of pure white, this seal of bliss▪  Hel. 
O spite! O hell! I see, you all are bend  
To set against me, for your merriment▪  
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,  
You would not do me thus much injury.  
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,  
But you must join, in souls, to mock me to?  
If you were men, as men you are in show,  
You would not use a gentle Lady so;  
To vow, and swear, and super praise my parts,  
When I am sure, you hate me with your hearts.  
You both are Rivals, and love Hermia:  
And now both Rivalles, to mock Helena.  
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,  
To conjure tears up, in a poor maids eyes,  
With your derision None, of noble sort,  
Would so offend a virgin, and extort  
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.  Lysand, 
You are unkind, Demetrius:: be not so.  
For you love Hermia: this you know I know.  
And hear, with all good will, with all my heart,  
In Hermias love I yield you up my part:  
And yours of Helena, to me bequeath:  
Whom I do love, and will do till my death.  Hel. 
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.  Deme. 
Lysander, keep thy Hermia: I will none.  
If ere I loved her, all that love is gone.  
My heart to her, but as guestwise, sojourned:  
And now to Helen, is it home returned,  
There to remain.  Lys. 
Helen, it is not so.  Deme. 
disparaged not the faith, thou dost not know;  
Lest to thy peril, thou abye it dear.  
Look where thy love comes: yonder is thy dear.  Enter Hermia. Her. 
Dark night, that from the eye, his function takes,  
The ear more quick of apprehension makes.  
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,  
It pays the hearing double recompense.  
Thou art not, by mine eye, Lysander, found:  
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.  
But why, unkindly, didst thou leave me so?  Lys. 
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?  Her. 
What love could press Lysander, from my side?  Lys. 
Lysander's love (that would not let him bide)  
Fair Helena: who more engilds the night  
Than all yond fiery oes, and eyes of light.  
Why seekest thou me? Can not this make thee know,  
The hate I bore thee, made me leave thee so?  Her. 
You speak not as you think: It cannot be.  Hel. 
Lo: she is one of this confederacy.  
Now I perceive, they have conjoined all three,  
To fashion this false sport, in spite of me.  
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,  
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived  
To bait me, with this foul derision?  
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,  
The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent,  
When we have chid the hasty footed time,  
For parting us; O, is all forgot?  
All schooldays friendship, childhood innocence?  
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,  
Have with our needles, created both one flower,  
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,  
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;  
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds  
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,  
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;  
But yet an union in partition,  
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem:  
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,  
Two of the first life coats in heraldry,  
Endue but to one, and crowned with one crest.  
And will you rend our ancient love asunder,  
To join with men, in scorning your poor friend?  
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.  
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it;  
Though I alone do feel the injury.  Her. 
I am amazed at your words:  
I scorn you not. It seems that you scorn me,  Hel. 
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,  
To follow me, and praise my eyes and face?  
And made your other love, Demetrius  
(Who even but now did spurn me with his foot)  
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,  
Precious celestial? Wherhfore speaks he this,  
To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander  
Deny your love (so rich within his soul)  
And tender me (forsooth) affection,  
But by your setting on, by your consent?  
What, though I be not so in grace as you,  
So hung upon with love, so fortunate?  
(But miserable most, to love unloved)  
This you should pity, rather than despise.  Her. 
I understand not, what you mean by this▪  Hel. 
I do. Persever, counterfeit sad looks:  
Make mouths upon me, when I turn my back:  
Wink each at other, hold the sweeete jest up▪  
This sport well carried, shall be chronicled.  
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,  
You would not make me such an argument.  
But far ye well: 'tis partly my own fault:  
Which death, or absence soon shall remedy.  Lys. 
Stay, gentle Helena: hear my excuse,  
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena.  Hel. 
O excellent!  Herm. 
Sweet, do not scorn her so.  Dem. 
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.  Lys. 
Thou canst compel no more, than she entreat.  
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak praise.  
Helen, I love thee, by my life I do:  
I swear by that which I will lose for thee;  
To prove him false, that says I love thee not.  Dem. 
I say, I love thee more than he can do.  Lys. 
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it to.  Dem. 
Quick come.  Her. 
Lysander, whereto tends all this?  Lys. 
Away, you Ethiop.  Dem. 
No, no: he'll  
Seem to break lose: take on as you would follow;  
But yet come not. You are a tame man, go.  Lys. 
Hang of thou cat, thou burr: vile thing let lose;  
Or I will shake thee from me, like a serpent.  Her. 
Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,  
Sweet love?  Lys. 
Thy love? Out tawny Tartar, out:  
Out loathed medicine: o hated potion hence.  Her. 
Do you not jest?  Hel. 
Yes sooth: and so do you.  Lys. 
Demetrius, I will keep my word, with thee.  Dem. 
I would I had your bond. For I perceive,  
A weak bond holds you. I'll not trust your word.  Lys. 
What? should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?  
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.  Her. 
What? Can you do me greater harm, than hate?  
Hate me, wherefore? O me, what news, my love?  
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?  
I am as fair now, as I was ere while.  
Since night, you loved me; yet since night, you left me,  
Why then, you left me (o the gods forbidden)  
In earnest, shall I say?  Lys. 
I, by my life:  
And never did desire to see thee more.  
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt:  
Be certain: nothing truer: 'tis no jest,  
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.  Her. 
O me, you juggler, you canker blossom,  
You thief of love: what, have you come by night,  
And stolen my loves heart, from him?  Hel. 
Fine, I faith.  
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,  
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear  
Impatient answers, from my gentle tongue?  
Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you.  Her. 
Puppet? Why so? I, that way goes the game,  
Now I perceive that she hath made compare,  
Between our statures, she hath urged her height,  
And with her parsonage, her tall parsonage,  
Her height (forsooth) she hath prevailed with him.  
And are you grown so high in his esteem,  
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?  
How low am I, thou painted Maypole? Speak:  
How low am I? I am not yet so low,  
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.  Hel. 
I pray you, though you mock me, gentleman,  
Let her not hurt me, I was never cursed:  
I have no gift at all in shrewishness:  
I am a right maid, for my cowardice:  
Let her not strike me. You perhaps, may think,  
Because she is something lower than myself,  
That I can match her.  Her. 
Lower? hark again.  Hel. 
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,  
I evermore did love you Hermia,  
Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you▪  
Save that in love, unto Demetrius,  
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.  
He followed you: for love, I followed him.  
But he hath chid me hence, and threatened me  
To strike me, spurn me; nay to kill me to.  
And now, so you will let me quiet go,  
To Athens will I bear my folly back,  
And follow you no further. Let me go.  
You see how simple, and how fond I am.  Herm. 
Why? get you gone. Who be't that hinders you?  Hel. 
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.  Her. 
What, with Lysander?  Hel. 
With Demetrius.  Lys. 
Be not afraid: she shall not harm thee Helena▪  Deme. 
No sir: she shall not, though you take her part.  Hel. 
O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd.  
She was a vixen, when she went to school:  
And though she be but little, she is fierce.  Her. 
Little again? Nothing but low and little?  
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?  
Let me come to her.  Lys. 
Get you gone, you dwarf;  
You minimus, of hindering knot grass, made;  
You bed, you acorn.  Demetrius. 
You are too officious,  
In her behalf, that scorns your services.  
Let her alone: speak not of Helena,  
Take not her part. For if thou dost intend  
Never so little show of love to her,  
Thou shalt abye it.  Lys. 
Now she holds me not:  
Now follow, if thou dat'st, to try whose right,  
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.  Deme. 
Fellow? Nay: I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl,  Her. 
You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.  
Nay: go not back.  Hel. 
I will not trust you, I,  
Nor longer stay in your cursed company.  
Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray:  
My legs are longer though, to run away.  Her. 
I am amazed, and know not what to say. Exeunt.  Ob. 
This is thy negligence: still thou mistak'st,  
Or else commitst thy knaveries wilfully.  Puck. 
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.  
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,  
By the Athenian garments, he had on?  
And, so far blameless proves my enterprise,  
That I have anointed an Athenians eyes:  
And so far am I glad, it so did sort,  
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.  Ob. 
Thou seest, these lovers seek a place to fight:  
High therefore Robin, overcast the night,  
The starry welkin cover thou anon,  
With drooping fog as black as Acheron,  
And lead these tasty Rivals so astray,  
As one come not within another's way.  
Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue:  
Then stir Demetrius up, with bitter wrong:  
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius:  
And from each other, look thou lead them thus;  
Till o'er their brows, death-counterfaiting, sleep,  
With leaden legs, and Batty wings doth creep▪  
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;  
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,  
To take from thence all error, with his might,  
And make his eyebals roll with wont sight.  
When they next wake, all this derision  
Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision.  
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,  
With league, whose date, till death shall never end.  
Whiles I, in this affair, do thee employ,  
I'll to my Queen and beg her Indian boy:  
And then I will her charmed eye release  
From monsters view, and all things shall be peace.  Puck. 
My Fairy Lord, this must be done with haste.  
For nights swift Dragons cut the clouds full fast,  
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger:  
At whose approach, Ghosts, wandering here and there,  
troup home to Churchyards: damned spirits all,  
That in cross ways and floods have burial,  
Already to their wormy beds are gone:  
For fear least day should look their shames upon,  
They wilfully themselves exile from light,  
And must for aye consort with black browed night.  Ober. 
But we are spirits of another sort.  
I, with the morning's love, have oft made sport,  
And like a forester, the groves may tread  
Even till the Eastern gate all fiery red,  
Opening on Neptune, with fair blessed beams,  
Turns, into yellow gold, his salt green streams.  
But notwithstanding, haste, make no delay:  
We may effect this business, yet ere day.  Pu. 
Up & down, up & down, I will lead them up & down:  
I am feared in field & town. Goblin, lead them up & down.  
Here comes one. Enter Lysander.  Lys. 
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.  Rob. 
Here villain, drawn & ready. Where art thou?  Lys. 
I will be with thee strait.  Rob. 
Fellow me then to plainer ground.  Enter Demetrius. Deme. 
Lysander, speak again.  
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?  
Speak in some bush. Where dost thou hide thy head?  Rob. 
Thou coward art thou bragging, to the stars,  
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,  
And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou child,  
I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defiled,  
That draws a sword on thee.  De. 
Yea, art thou there?  Ro. 
Fellow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. Exeunt.  Lys. 
He goes before me, and still dares me on:  
When I come where he calls, than he is gone.  
The villain is much lighter heeled than I;  
I followed fast: but faster he did fly;  
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,  
And here will rest me. Come thou gentle day.  
For if but once, thou show me thy grey light,  
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite.  Robin, and Demetrius'. Robi. 
Ho, ho, ho: Coward, why comest thou not▪  Deme. 
Abide me, if thou darest. For well I wots,  
Thou run'st before me, shifting every place,  
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.  
Where art thou now?  Rob. 
Come hither: I am here.  De. 
Nay then thou mockest me. Thou shalt buy this dear,  
If ever I thy face by day light see.  
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me,  
To measure, out my length, on this cold bed:  
By days approach look to be visited.  Enter Helena. Hele. 
O weary night, O long and tedious night,  
Abate thy hours, shine comforts, from the east;  
That I may back to Athens, by day light,  
From these that my poor company detest:  
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrows eye,  
Steal me a while from mine own company. Sleep.  Rob 
Yet but three? Come one more.  
Two of both kinds makes up four.  
Hear she comes, cursed and lad.  
Cupid is a knavish lad,  
Thus to make poor females mad.  Her. 
Never so weary, never so in woe,  
Be dabbled with the dew, and torn with briars:  
I can no further crawl, no further go:  
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.  
Here will I rest me, till the break of day:  
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray.  Rob. 
On the ground, sleep sound:  
I'll apply your eye, gentle lover, remedy.  
When thou wakest, thou tak'st  
True delight, in the sight, of thy former lady's eye:  
And the country poverbe known,  
That every man should take his own,  
In your waking shall be shown.  
jacke shall have jill: nought shall go ill:  
The man shall have his mare again, & all shall be well.  Enter Queen of Fairies, and Clown, and Fairies. and the king behind them. Tita. 
Come sit thee down upon this flowery bed,  
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,  
And stick musk roses in thy sleek smooth head,  
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.  Clown. 
Where's Pease-blossome?  Pea. 
Ready.  Clow. 
Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. where's Mounsieur Cobweb?  Cob. 
Ready.  Clo. 
Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red hipt Humble Bee, on the top of a thistle: and good Mounsieur, bring me the honey bag. Do not fret yourself too much, in the action, Mounsieur: and good Mounsieur have a care, the honybagge break not, I would be loath to have you overflown with a hombag signor. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed?  Must. 
Ready.  Clo. 
Give me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed▪ Pray you, leave your curtsy, good Mounsieur.  Must. 
what's your will?  Clo. 
Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Cavalero Cobwebbe, to scratch▪ I must to the Barbers, Mounsieur. For me thinks I am marvels hairy about the face. And I am such a tender Ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.  Tita. 
What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?  Clo. 
I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongues, and the bones.  Tyta. 
Or, say sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.  Clo. 
Truly a peck of provender. I could munch your good dry Oats. Me thinks, I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay, sweet hay hath no fellow.  Ty. 
I have a venturous Fairy, that shall seek the Squirrels hoard, And fetch thee new nuts.  Clo. 
I had rather have a handful, or two of dried pease▪ But, I pray you▪ let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.  Tyta. 
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.  
Fairy's be gone, and be always away.  
So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honeysuckle,  
Gently entwist: the female luy so  
Enrings the barky fingers of the Elm.  
O how I love thee! how I dote on thee!  Enter Robin goodfellow. Ob. 
Welcome good Robin. Seest thou this sweet sight?  
Her dotage now I do begin to pity.  
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,  
Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,  
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her.  
For she his hairy temples than had rounded,  
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.  
And that same dew which sometime on the buds,  
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls;  
Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,  
Like tears, that did their own disgrace be wail.  
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,  
And she, in mild terms, begged my patience,  
I then did ask of her, her changeling child:  
Which strait she gave me, and her Fairy sent  
To bear him, to my bower, in Fairy land.  
And now I have the boy, I will undo  
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.  
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp,  
From of the head of this Athenian swain;  
That he, awaking when the other do,  
May all to Athens back again repair,  
And think no more of this night's accidents,  
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.  
But first I will release the Fairy Queen.  
Be, as thou wast wont to be:  
See, as thou wast wont to see.  
Diane's bud, or Cupid's flower,  
Hath such force, and blessed power.  
Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet Queen.  Tita. 
My Oberon, what visions have I seen!  
Me thought I was enamoured of an Ass.  Ob. 
There lies your love.  Tita. 
How came these things to pass?  
O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now!  Ob. 
Silence a while. Robin, take off this head:  
Titania, music call, and strike more dead  
Then common sleep: of all these, fine the sense.  Ti. 
Music, how music: such as charmeth sleep.  Rob. 
Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fools eyes peep.  Ob. 
Sound Music: come, my queen, take hands with me,  
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.  
Now, thou and I are new in amity,  
And will to morrow midnight, solemnly  
Dance, in Duke Theseus house triumphantly,  
And bless it to all fair prosperity.  
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be  
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.  Rob. 
Fairy King, attend, and mark:  
I do hear the morning Lark.  Ob. 
Then my Queen, in silence sad,  
Trippe we after night's shade:  
We, the Globe, can compass soon,  
Swifter than the wandering Moon.  Tita. 
Come my Lord, and in our flight,  
Tell me how it came this night,  
That I sleeping here was found,  
With these mortals on the ground. Exeunt.  Enter Theseus and all his train. Wind horn. The. 
Go one of you, find out the forester:  
For now our observation is performed.  
And since we have the vaward of the day,  
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.  
Uncouple, in the western valley, let them go:  
Dispatch I say, and find the forester.  
We will, fair Queen, up to the mountainestoppe,  
And mark the musical confusion  
Of hounds and Echo in conjunction.  Hip. 
I was with Hercules and Cadmus, once,  
When in a wood of Crete they bayed the Bear,  
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear  
Such gallant chiding. For besides the groves,  
The skies, the fountains, every region near  
Seem all one mutual cry. I never heard  
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.  Thes. 
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind:  
So flewed, so sanded: and their heads are hung  
With ears, that sweep away the morning dew,  
Crook kneed, and deawlapt, like Thessalian Bulls:  
Slow in pursuit; but matched in mouth like bells,  
Each under each. A cry more tunable  
Was never ed to, nor cheered with horn,  
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly.  
judge when you hear. But soft. What nymphs are these?  Egeus. 
My Lord, this my daughter here a sleep,  
And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,  
This Helena, old Nedars Helena.  
I wonder of their being here together.  The. 
No doubt, they rose up early, to observe  
The right of May: and hearing our intent,  
Came here, in grace of our solemnity.  
But speak, Egeus, is not this the day,  
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?  Egeus. 
It is, my Lord.  These. 
Go, bid the huntsinen wake them with their horns.  Shout within: they all start up. Wind horns. The. 
Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is passed.  
Begin these wood birds but to couple, now?  Lys. 
Pardon, my Lord.  The. 
I pray you all, stand up.  
I know, you two are Rival enemies.  
How comes this gentle concord in the world,  
That hatred is so far from jealousy,  
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity,  Lys. 
My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,  
Half sleep, half waking, But, as yet, I swear,  
I cannot truly say how I came here.  
But as I think (for truly would I speak)  
And now I do bethink me, so it is;  
I came with Hermia, hither. Our intent  
Was to be gone from Athens: where we might  
Without the peril of the Athenian law,  Ege. 
Enough, enough my Lord: you have enough.  
I beg the law, the law, upon his head:  
They would have stolen away, they would, Demetrius,  
Thereby to have defeated you and me:  
You of your wife, and me, of my consent:  
Of my consent, that she should be your wife.  Deme. 
My Lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,  
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,  
And I in fury hither followed them;  
Fair Helena, in fancy following me.  
But my good Lord, I wot not by what power  
(But by some power it is) my love,  
To Hermia (melted as the snow)  
Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,  
Which in my childhood I did dote upon:  
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,  
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,  
Is only Helena. To her, my Lord,  
Was I betrothed, ere I see Hermia:  
But, like a sickness, did I loath this food.  
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,  
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,  
And will for evermore be true to it.  The. 
Fair lovers, you are fortunately met,  
Of this discourse, we more will here anon▪  Egeus, 
I will overbear your will:  
For in the Temple, by and by, with us,  
These couples shall eternally be knit.  
And, for the morning now is something worn,  
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.  
Away, with us, to Athens. Three and three,  
we'll hold a feast, in great solemnity. Come Hyppolita.  Demetrius. 
These things seem small and undistinguishable,  
Like far off mountains turned into clouds.  Her. 
Me thinks I see these things, with parted eye,  
When every thing seems double.  Hel. 
So me thinks:  
And I have fond Demetrius, like a jewel,  
Mine own, and not mine own.  Dem. 
Are you sure  
That we are awake? It seems to me,  
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think,  
The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?  Her. 
Yea, and my father.  Hel. 
And Hyppolita.  Lys. 
And he did bid us follow to the Temple.  Dem. 
Why then, we are awake: let's follow him, and by the way let's recount our dreams.  Clo. 
When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most fair Pyramus. hay ho. Peter Quince? Flute, the bellows mender? Snout the tinker? Starveling? God's my life! Stolen hence, and left me a sleep? I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man, to say; what dream it was. Man is but an Ass, if he go about expound this dream. Me thought I was, there is no man can tell what. Me thought I was, and me thought I had. But man is but patched a fool, If he will offer to say, what me thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was, I will get Peter Quince to write a Ballet of this dream: it shall be called Bottoms Dream; because it hath no bottom: and I will sing it in the latter end of a Play, before the Duke. Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.  Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbe and the rabble. Quin. 
Have you sent to Bottoms house? Is he come home, yet?  Flut. 
He cannot be heard of▪ Out of doubt he is transported.  This. 
If he come not, than the Play is marred. It goes not forward. Doth it?  Quin. 
It is not possible. You have not a man, in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he.  This. 
No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.  Quin. 
Yea, and the best person to, and he is a very Paramour, for a sweet voice.  This. 
You must say, Paragon, A Paramour is (God bless us) a thing of nought.  Enter Snug, the joiner. Snug. 
Masters, the Duke is coming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords and Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.  This. 
O sweet bully Bottom. Thus hath he lost six pence a day, during his life: he could not have scaped six pence a day. And the Duke had not given him six pence a day, for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged. He would have deserved it. Six pence a day, in Pyramus, or nothing.  Enter Bottom. Bot. 
Where are these lads? Where are these hearts?  Quin, 
Bottom, o most courageous day! O most happy hour!  Bott. 
Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what. For if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you every thing right as it fell out.  Quin. 
Let us hear, sweet Bottom.  Bot. 
Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps, meet presently at the palace, every man look over his part. For, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case let Thisbe have clean linen: and let not him, that plays the Lion, pair his nails: for they shall hang out for the lions claws. And most dear Actors, eat no Onions, nor garlic▪ for we are to utter sweet breath: and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words▪ Away, go away.  Enter Theseus, Hyppolita, and Philostrate. Hip. 
'tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of,  The. 
More strange than true. I never may believe  
These antic fables, nor these Fairy toys.  
Lovers, and mad men have such seething brains,  
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more,  
Then cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic,  
The lover, and the Poet are of imagination all compact.  
One sees more devils, then vast hell can hold:  
That is the mad man. The lover, all as frantic,  
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.  
The Poet's eye, in a fine frenzy, rolling, doth glance  
From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven. And as  
Imagination bodies forth the forms of things  
Unknown: the Poet's pen turns them to shapes,  
And gives to eyrie nothing, a local habitation,  
And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,  
That if it would but apprehend some joy,  
It comprehends some bringer of that joy.  
Or in the night, imagining some fear,  
How easy is a bush supposed a Bear?  Hyp. 
But, all the story of the night told over,  
And all their minds transfigured so together,  
More witnesseth than fancy's images,  
And grows to something of great constancy:  
But howsoever, strange and admirable.  Enter Lovers; Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia and Helena. The. 
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.  
joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days  
Of love accompany your hearts.  Lys. 
More than to us, wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed.  The. 
Come now: what masks, what dances shall we have,  
To wear away this long age of three hours, between  
Or after supper, & bedtime? Where is our usual manager  
Of mirth? What Revels are in hand? Is there no play,  
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate.  Philostrate. 
Here mighty Theseus.  The. 
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?  
What mask, what music? How shall we be guile  
The lazy time, if not with some delight?  Philost. 
There is a brief, how many sports are ripe.  
Make choice, of which your Highness will see first.  The. 
The battle with the Centaurs to be sung,  
By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harp?  
we'll none of that, That have I told my love,  
in glory of my kinsman Hercules▪  
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,  
Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?  
That is an old devise: and it was played,  
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.  
The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death  
Of learning, late deceased, in beggary?  
That is some Satire keen and critical,  
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.  
A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus  
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth?  
Merry, and tragical? Tedious, and brief? That is hot Ice,  
And wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord  
Of this discord?  Philost. 
A Play there is, my Lord, some ten words long;  
Which is as brief, as I have known a play:  
But, by ten words, my Lord it is too long:  
Which makes it tedious. For in all the Play,  
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.  
And tragical, my noble Lord, it is. For Pyramus,  
Therein, doth kill himself. Which when I saw  
Rehearsed, I must confess, made mine eyes water:  
But more merry tears the passion of loud laughter  
Never shed.  These. 
What are they, that do play it?  Phil. 
Hard handed men, that work in Athens here,  
Which never laboured in their minds till now:  
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories,  
With this same Play, against your nuptial.  The. 
And we will hear it.  Phi. 
No, my noble Lord, it is not for you. I have heard  
It over, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;  
Unless you can find sport in their intents,  
Extremely stretched, and con with cruel pain,  
To do you service.  The. 
I will hear that play. For never any thing  
Can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.  
Go bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.  Hip. 
I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged;  
And duty, in his service, perishing.  The. 
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.  Hip. 
He says, they can do nothing in this kind.  The. 
The kinder we, to give them thanks, for nothing.  
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake.  
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect  
Takes it in might, not merit.  
Where I have come, great Clerks have purposed  
To greet me, with premeditated welcomes;  
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,  
Make periods in the midst of sentences,  
Throttle their practised accent in their fears,  
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,  
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,  
Out of this silence, yet, I picked a welcome:  
And in the modesty of fearful duty,  
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue  
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.  
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,  
In least, speak most, to my capacity.  Philost. 
So please your Grace, the Prologue is addressed.  Duk. 
Let him approach.  Enter the Prologue. Pro. 
If we offend, it is with our good will.  
That you should think, we come not to offend,  
But with good will. To show our simple skill,  
That is the true beginning of our end.  
Consider then, we come but in despite.  
We do not come, as minding to content you,  
Our true intent is. All for your delight,  
We are not here. That you should here repent you,  
The Actors are at hand: and, by their show,  
You shall know all, that you are like to know▪  The. 
This fellow doth not stand upon points.  Lys. 
He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knows not the stop. A good moral my Lord. It is not enough to speak; but to speak true.  Hyp. 
Indeed he hath played on this Prologue, like a child on a Recorder, a sound; but not in government.  The. 
His speech was like a tangled Chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?  Enter Pyramus, and Thisbe, and Wall, and Moonshine, and Lyon. Prologue. 
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show.  
But, wonder on, till truth make all things plain.  
This man is Pyramus, if you would know:  
This beauteous Lady Thsby is certain.  
This man, with lime and roughcast, doth present  
Wall, that vile wall, which did these lovers sunder:  
And through walls chink, poor souls, they are content  
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.  
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,  
Presenteth moonshine. For if you will know,  
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn  
To meet at Ninus tomb, there, there to woo▪  
This grizzly beast (which Lion hight by name)  
The trusty Thysby, coming first by night,  
Did scar away, or rather did affright:  
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall:  
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.  
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall,  
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain:  
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,  
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast.  
And Thisbe, tarrying in Mulberry shade,  
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,  
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,  
At large discourse, while here they do remain,  The. 
I wonder, if the Lion be to speak.  Demet. 
No wonder, my Lord. One Lion may, when many Asses do.  Exit Lion, Thysby, and Moonshine. Wall. 
In this same interlude it doth befall,  
That I, one Flute (by name) present a wall:  
And such a wall, as I would have you think  
That had in it a cranied hole or chink:  
Through which the lovers, Pyramus, and Thisbe,  
Did whisper often, very secretly.  
This lome, this rough cast, and this stone doth show,  
That I am that same wall: the truth is so.  
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,  
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.  The. 
Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?  Deme. 
It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse, my Lord.  The. 
Pyramus draws near the wall: silence.  Py. 
O grim looked night, o night, with hue so black,  
O night, which ever art▪ when day is not:  
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,  
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot.  
And thou o wall, o sweet, o lovely wall,  
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine,  
Thou wall, o wall, O sweet and lovely wall,  
Show me thy chink, to blink through, with mine eyen▪  
Thanks courteous wall. jove shield thee well, for this.  
But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.  
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,  
Cursed be thy stones, for thus deceiving me▪  The. 
The wall me thinks, being sensible, should curse again.  Pyr. 
No, in truth Sir, he should not. Deceiving me is  
Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy  
Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall  
Pat as I told you: yonder she comes. Enter Thisbe.  This. 
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,  
For parting my fair Pyramus, and me.  
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones;  
Thy stones, with lime and hayire knit now again.  Pyra. 
I see a voice: now will I to the chink,  
To spy and I can hear my Thisby's face▪ Thysby?  This. 
My love thou art, my love I think.  Py. 
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lovers Grace:  
And, like Limander, am I trusty still.  This. 
And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill.  Pyra. 
Not Shaefalus, to Procrus, was so true.  This. 
As Shafalus to Procius, I to you.  Pyr. 
O kiss me, through the hole of this wild wall.  This. 
I kiss the walls hole; not your lips at all.  Pyr. 
Wilt thou, at Ninnies tomb, meet me strait way?  Thy. 
Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.  Wal. 
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;  
And, being done, thus wall away doth go.  Duk. 
Now is the Moon used between the two neighbours.  Deme. 
No remedy, my Lord, when walls are so wilful, to hear without warning.  Dutch. 
This is the silliest stuff, that ever I heard.  Duke. 
The best, in this kind, are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.  Dutch. 
It must be your imagination, then; & not theirs.  Duke. 
If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts, in a man and a Lyon.  Enter Lion, and Moonshine. Lyon. 
You Ladies, you (whose gentle hearts do fear  
The smallest monstrous mouse, that creeps on floor)  
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,  
When Lion rough, in wildest rage, doth roar.  
Then know that I, as Snug the joiner am  
A Lion fell, nor else no lions dam.  
For, if I should, as Lion, come in strife,  
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.  Duk. 
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.  Deme. 
The very best at a beast, my Lord, that ere I saw.  Lys. 
This Lion is a very fox, for his valour.  Duk. 
True: and a goose for his discretion.  De. 
Not so my Lord. For his valour cannot carry his discretion: and the fox carries the goose.  Duk. 
His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour. For the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the Moon.  Moon. 
This lantern doth the horned moon present.  Deme. 
He should have worn the horns, on his head.  Duk. 
He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible, within the circumference.  Moon. 
This lantern doth the horned moon present,  
Myself, the manith Moon, do seem to be.  Duke. 
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into the lantern▪ How is it else the manith Moon?  Deme. 
He dares not come there, for the candle. For, you see, it is already in snuff.  Dutch. 
I am a weary of this Moon. Would he would change.  Duke. 
It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.  Lysan. 
Proceed, Moon.  Moon. 
All that I have to say, is to tell you, that the lantern is the Moon, I the manith Moon, this thorn bush my thorn bush, and this dog my dog.  Deme. 
Why? All these should be in the lantern: for all these are in the Moon. But silence: here comes Thisbe.  Enter Thisbe. Th. 
This is old Ninies tomb. Where is my love? Lion, Oh.  Dem. 
Well roared, Lyon.  Duke. 
Well run, Thisbe.  Duchess. 
Well shone Moon. Truly, the Moon shines, with a good grace.  Duk. 
Well mouzed, Lyon.  Dem. 
And then came Pyramus.  Lys. 
And so the Lion vanished.  Enter Pyramus. Pyr. 
Sweet Moon, I thank thee, for thy sunny beams.  
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright.  
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beams,  
I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.  
But stay: o spite! but mark, poor knight,  
What dreadful dole is here?  
Eyes do you see! How can it be!  
O dainty duck, o dear!  
Thy mantle good, what, stained with blood?  
Approach ye Furies fell,  
O fates come, come, cut thread and thrum,  
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.  Duke. 
This passion, & the death of a dear friend would go near to make a man look sad.  Dutch. 
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.  Pyr. 
O, wherefore, Nature, didst thou Lions frame?  
Since Lion wild hath here deflowered my dear.  
Which is, no, no: which was the fairest dame  
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer.  
Come tears, confound, out sword, and wound  
The pap of Pyramus:  
I, that left pap, where heart doth hop.  
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.  
Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soul is in the sky.  
Tongue lose thy light, Moon take thy flight,  
Now die, dy, dy, dy, dy.  Dem. 
No Die, but an ace for him. For he is but one.  Lys. 
Less than an ace, man. For he is dead, he is nothing.  Duke. 
With the help of a Surgeon, he might yet recover, and yet prove an Ass.  Dut. 
How chance Moonshine is gone before? Thisbe comes back, and finds her lover▪  Duk. 
She will find him, by starlight. Here she comes, and her passion ends the Play.  Dut. 
Me thinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief.  Demet. 
A moth will turn the balance; which Pyramus, which Thisbe is the better: he for a man; God warned us▪ she, for a woman; God bless us.  Lys. 
She hath spied him already, with those sweet eyes.  Deme. 
And thus she means, videlicet;  This. 
A sleep my love? What, dead my dove?  
O Pyramus, arise,  
Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb  
Must cover thy sweet eyes.  
These lily lips, this cherry nose,  
These yellow cowslippe cheeks  
Are gone, are gone: lovers make moon:  
His eyes were green, as leeks,  
O sisters three, come, come, to me,  
With hands as pale as milk,  
Lay them in gore, since you have shore  
With shears, his thread of silk.  
Tongue, not a word: come trusty sword,  
Come blade, my breast embrew:  
And farewell friends: thus Thysby ends:  
Adieu, adieu, adieu.  Duke. 
Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.  Deme. 
I, and Wall to.  Lyon. 
No, I assure you, the wall is down, that parted their fathers. Will it please you, to see the Epilogue, or to hear a Bergomaske dance, between two of our company?  Duke. 
No Epilogue, I pray you. For your Play needs no excuse. Never excuse: For when the Players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Mary, if he that writ it, had played Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine Tragedy: and so it is truly, and very notably discharged. But come your Burgomaske: let your Epilogue alone.  
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.  
Lovers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.  
I fear we shall outsleepe the coming morn,  
As much as we this night have overwatcht.  
This palpable gross Play hath well beguiled  
The heavy gate of night. Sweet friends, to bed.  
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,  
In nightly Revels, and new jollity. Exeunt.  Enter Pucke. Puck. 
Now the hungry Lions roars.  
And the wolf beholds the Moon;  
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,  
All with weary task foredoone.  
Now the wasted brands do glow,  
Whilst the screech-owl, scrieching loud,  
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,  
In remembrance of a shroud.  
Now it is the time of night,  
That the graves, all gaping wide,  
Every one lets forth his sprite,  
In the Church way paths to glide.  
And we Fairies, that do run,  
By the triple Hecate's team,  
From the presence of the Sun,  
Following darkness like a dream,  
Now are frolic: not a mouse  
Shall disturb this hallowed house.  
I am sent, with broom, before,  
To sweep the dust, behind the door.  Enter King and Queen of Fairies, with all their train. Ob. 
Through the house give glimmering light,  
By the dead and drowsy fire,  
Every Elf and Fairy sprite,  
Hop as light as bird from brier,  
And this ditty after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly.  Tita. 
First rehearse your song by rote,  
To each word a warbling note.  
Hand in hand, with Fairy grace,  
Will we sing and bless this place.  Ob. 
Now, until the break of day,  
Through this house, each Fairy stray.  
To the best bride bed will we:  
Which by us shall blessed be:  
And the issue, there create,  
Ever shall be fortunate:  
So shall all the couples three  
Ever true in loving be:  
And the blots of nature's hand  
Shall not in their issue stand.  
Never mole, hare-lippe, nor scar,  
Nor mark prodigious, such as are  
Despised in nativity,  
Shall upon their children be.  
With this field dew consecrate,  
Every Fairy take his gate,  
And each several chamber bless,  
Through this palace, with sweet peace,  
Ever shall in safety rest,  
And the owner of it blessed.  
Trippe away: make no stay:  
Meet me all, by break of day. Exeunt.  Robin. 
If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this (and all is mended)  
That you have but slumbered here,  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend.  
If you pardon, we will mend,  
And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck,  
Now to scape the Serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends, ere long:  
Else, the Puck a liar call.  
So, good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends:  
And Robin shall restore amends.  
FINIS.