SONG 1st Fai. You spotted snakes with double tongue, Newts and blind worms, do no wrong; Chorus. Philomel with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby, Lulla, lulla, lullaby: lulla, lulla, lullaby; So, good night-with lullaby. 2d Fai. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence you long-legged spinners, hence: Chorus. Philomel with melody, &c. [Exeunt FAIRIES, TITANIA sleeps. Enter OBERON. Ober.-What thou seest when thou dost awake [Squeezes the flower on Titania's eyelids. Do it for thy true love take; Love and languish for his sake: Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wak'st, it is thy dear; Wake, when some vile thing is near. [Exit. Enter BOTTOM, singing; PUсk having clapt on him an ass's head SONG. Bot. The ousel-cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill— Tit. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again; Mine ear is much enamor'd of thy note; [Wakes. 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 neighbors will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek* upon occasion. Tit. 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. Tit. 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 : That thou shalt like an airy spirit go, Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed! Tit. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries: And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 1st Fai. Hail, mortal! 2nd Fai. Hail! 3rd Fai. Hail ! 4th Fai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I beseech your worship's name. * Gleek.-Banter. Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. man ? Peas. Peas-blossom. Your name, honest gentle Bot. I pray you commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peas-Blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance toc Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mus. Mustard-seed. Bot. Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well That same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many gentlemen of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed. OBERON enters unseen. Tit. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, Peas. Ready. Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom. Where's Monsieur Cobwet ' Bot. Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get up your weapons in your hands, and kill me a red-hipped humble bee on the top of a thistle; and, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much with the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, 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 Cavaliero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me I must scratch. Tit. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? Bot. I have a reasonable ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones Tit. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. Bot. Truly a peck of provender. I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Neif.-Fist. Tit I have a venturous fairy, that shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas:-but, I prag you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Tit. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist;- the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee! OBERON advances. Enter Puck. [They sleep. Ober. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight? For meeting her of late behind the wood, I did upbraid her, and fall out with her: And that same dew, which sometimes on the buds And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp And think no more of this night's accidents, Be as thou wert wont to be; (Touching her eyes with a herb) See, as thou were wont to see; Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower But as the fierce vexation of a dream.--This fine stray verse comes looking in among the rest like a stern face through flowers. Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. Ober. There lies your love. Tit. How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! Ober. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.— Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tit. Music! ho! music! such as charmeth sleep. Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep. Ober. Sound music! [still music.] Come, my queen, take hand 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 posterity: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark; Ober. Then, my queen, in silence sad,* Tit. Come, my lord, and in our flight That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. [Exeunt. [Horns sound within 5 Come from the farthest steep of India. Shakspeare understood the charm of remoteness in poetry, as he did everything else. Oberon has been dancing on the sunny steeps looking towards Cathay, where the Chinese drive Their cany waggons light. * Sad.-Grave, serious (not melancholy). |