Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound,

night,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied
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 cross'd,

It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross;

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.

I have a widow aunt, a dowager

Of great revenue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote leagues;

seven

And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursne us: If thou lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow 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 burn'd 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 woman spoke ;-
In that same place thou bast 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 ! away?

Whither

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 fly this place.-
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me:

O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven into hell!
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will un
fold:

To-morrow night when Phabe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watʼry glass,

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,)
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd 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 sweet:
There my Lysander and myself shall meet:
And thence, from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
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. Hel. How happy some, o'er other some 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 Hermia's 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 love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unbeedy haste:
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
As waggish boys in game themselves for-

swear,

So the boy love is perjur'd every where:

appear.

Sickness is catching; Oh! were favour so! Your's would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your

He bail'd down oaths, that he was ouly mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia

felt,

So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's 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.

SCENE II.-The same.-A Room in a
Cottage.

Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING.

Quin. Is all our company here? man by man, according to the scrip. Bot. You were best to call them generally,

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.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the naines of the actors; and so grow to a point.

Quin. Marry, our play is The most lament

able comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and 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.

Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed.

Quin. You, Nick Bottom are set down for Pyramus.

What beard

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,

"With shivering shocks, "Shall break the locks

"Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus' car

"Shall shine from far,

"And make and mar

"The foolish fates."

This was lofty !-Now, name the rest of the players.-This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein;

a lover is more condoling.

Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
Flu. Nay, faith let me not 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.

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. You, Pyramus' 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 bang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wauts. I pray you, fail me not.

Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.

I

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings. + [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-A Wood near Athens.

Enter a FAIRY at one door, and Puck at another.

Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you ?
Fai. Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,

Swifter than the moones sphere ;.
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbst upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be,
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,

In those freckles live their savours: must go seek some dew-drops here, And bang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone, Our queen and all our elves come here auon. Puck. The king doth keep his revels bere 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, stol'n 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, withholds 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 star-light sheen,!
But they do square; that all their elves, for

fear,

And sometime make the drink to bear no [bacm? Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at neir Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, their work, and they shall have good

luck :

• As if.

Articles required in performing a play. + At al! event. * Circles. Shining.

A term of contemp Quarrel .. Mill. ft Yeusi.