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Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
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 enamour'd of thy note So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
Bot. Methinks, 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.
Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit, of no common rate;
The summer still doth tend upon my state,
Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peas-cod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. - Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit.
And forth my mimick comes: When they him spy,
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls;
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong:
I led them on in this distracted fear,
Obe. This falls out better than I could devise.
Puck. I took him sleeping,- that is finish'd too,— And the Athenian woman by his side; That when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd.
Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA.
Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that love you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
The sun was not so true unto the day,
As he to me: Would he have stol'n away
Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I,
Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty :
Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
Her. A privilege, never to see me more. — And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein : Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; Which now, in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.
[Lies down. Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite,
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight:
Puck. Then fate o'er-rules; that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding cath on oath.
Obe. 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 cost the fresh blood dear By some illusion see thou bring her here; I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear. Puck. I go, I go; look, how I go; Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Obe. 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 wak'st, if she be by Beg of her for remedy.
Puck. Captain of our fairy band,
And the youth, mistook by me,
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Enter LYSANDER and HELena. Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
Lys. I had no judgment, when to her I swore.
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none : If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd; And now to Helen is it home return'd,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend'
Her. I am amazed at your passionate words:
Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Make mows upon me when I turn my back; Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The car more quick of apprehension makes;
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 yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?
Her. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem:
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up:
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Since night, you ov'd me; yet, since night you left | Never so little show of love to her,
And never did desire to see thee more.
Her. O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night, And stol'n my love's 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? Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Let her not strike me: You, perhaps, may think,
Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
I told him of your stealth unto this wood:
But he hath chid me hence; and threaten'd me
And follow you no further: Let me go :
You see how simple and how fond I am.
Thou shalt aby it. Lys.
Now she holds me not Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose righ, Or thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Dem. Follow? nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. [Exeunt Lys. and DEM Her. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you : Nay, go not back. I will not trust you, I;
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Obe. Thou seest, these lovers seek a place to
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
Her. Why, get you gone: Who is't that hinders From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. you?
Hel. A foolish heart that I leave here behind.
Lys. Be not afraid she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Dem. No, sir; she shall not, though you take her part.
Hel. O, when she's 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 hind'ring knot-grass made; You bead, you acorn.
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
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to church-yards: damned spirits all,
Hel. 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: -
Puck. Yet but three? Come one more;
Thus to make poor females mad.
your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mon
Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM, Fairies attending; sieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret your
OBERON behind unseen.
self too much in the action, monsieur; and, good
Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.
would be loth to have you overflown with a honeybag, signior. - Where's monsieur Mustard-seed? Must. Ready.
Bot. Give me your neif, monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. Must. What's your will?
Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's,
Bot. Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur, get monsieur for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy