Puck. 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, 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 starlight sheen,
But they do square; that all their elves, for fear,
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,

Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife
churn;

And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;

Mislead night-wanderers, 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?

Puck.

Thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night,
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her withered dewlap 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 quire hold their hips and
laugh,

And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But room, fairy! here comes Oberon.*
Fai. And here my mistress. Would that
he were gone!

Enter OBERON from one side, and
TITANIA from the other.†

Obe. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
Tita. What, jealous Oberon ! Fairies,

skip hence:

* If the scene is to be shortened, go on to line [150] 'My gentle Puck.'

From this point to the end of the scene ('shall do so') may be omitted in action, or used as a separate speech.

I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?

Tita. 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 furthest steppe 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.

Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus ?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmer-
ing night

From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
And made him with fair Ægle break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?

Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy :
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or in the beachèd margent 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
Have 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 rotted 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 blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems' thin 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 wonted 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.

Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in you.

140

conceive

And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind:
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
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.
Obe. How long within this wood intend
you stay?

Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' wed-
ding-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.
Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with
thee.

Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies,
away!

We shall chide downright, if I longer stay.
[Exit TITANIA with her Train.

Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not
from this grove

Till I torment thee for this injury. 50 My gentle Puck, come hither: thou remem

berest,

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
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes.
[Exit.
Obe.
Having once this juice
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.
The next thing then 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 off from her sight,
As I can take it with another herb,

I'll make her render up her page to me.

Re-enter PUCK.

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40

Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write 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 and 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 yourselves: to bring in, God shield us! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living, and we ought to look to't.

Snout. 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'; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them 50 plainly he is Snug the joiner.

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70

But there is

Quin. Well, it shall be so. two hard things: that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.

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

Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

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

casement.

Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthcrn, 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 and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.

Snug. 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 loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.

Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,

Quin. Odours, odours.

Bot. -odours savours sweet:

So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here! [Exit.

Flute. Must I speak now?

Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he 1 heard, and is to come again.

Flute. Most radiant Pyramus, most lilywhite of hue,

Of colour like the red rose on triumphant

brier,

Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never

tire,

I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's 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 II past; it is never tire.' Flute. O,-As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.

Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head.

Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.

Quin. O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted! Pray, masters! fly, masters! help! [Exeunt Clowns.

Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,

Through bog, through bush, through brake,
through brier:

Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and 120

burn,

Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit. 130 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 ousel-cock, so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,

[Sings.

The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill,—

Tita. (Awaking.) What angel wakes me from
my flowery bed?

140 Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
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; 150 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 nowadays: 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 160 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;
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 pressèd flowers dost sleep;

170 And I will purge thy moral grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Pease-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!

man;

Hop in his walks, and gambol 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 waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed, and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Peas. Hail, mortal!

Cob. Hail!

Moth. Hail!

Mus. Hail!

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