You can endure the livery of a nun; Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 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. Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years; Her. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young! Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends. Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye! Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edíct in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers. Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-And, Lysander, I have a widow aunt, a dowager yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. And what is mine my love shall render him; And she is mine; and all iny right of her Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Why should not I then prosecute my right? And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, 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 over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; [Exeunt Thes. Hip. Ege. Dem. and train. Lys. 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 mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low! Of great revenue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; There will I stay for thee. Her. My good Lysander: I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; By the simplicity of Venus' doves; By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; Lys. Keep promise, love: look, here comes Helena. More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, 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, (7) Countenance. Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. ble comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Hel. None, but your beauty; 'would that fault Thisby. were mine! Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll: Masters, spread yourselves. face; Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu: [Exit Lysander. Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be! For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, SCENE II.-The same. A room in a Cottage. 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 and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and proIceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py ramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. 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 Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus car "The foolish fates." Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice; -Thisne, Thisne,-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father; -Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's 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. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, Let him roar again. Quin. An 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 that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will agQuin. Marry, our play is-The most lamenta-gravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an' 'twere (1) Sport. (2) Eyes. Jany nightingale. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. (3) As if Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Call'd Robin Good-fellow: are you not he, Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as That fright the maidens of the villagery; one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern," gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; play Pyramus. And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm : were I best to play it in ? Quin. Why, what you will. Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-Are not you he ? Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, at all, and then you will play bare-faced. But, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, you, request) d desire you, to con them by In very likeness of a roasted crab;" to-morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, a mile without the town, by moon-light; there will And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, be dogg'd with company, and our devices known. Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me: 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; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exe. ACT II. SCENE I.-A wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Thorough bush, thorough brier, Thorough flood, thorough fire, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dew-drops here, Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, Fai. And here my mistress:-'Would that he SCENE II.-Enter Oberon, at one door, with his Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton; Am not I thy lord? Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Perigenia, whom he ravished? Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy: Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea joy: And now they never meet in grove, or green, Contagious fogs; which falling in the land, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, |