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Enter PUCK.

Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none2,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and silence! who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe3.
When thou wak'st, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.

So awake when I am gone,

For I must now to Oberon.

Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running.

[Exit.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence; and do not haunt me thus.

Hel. O! wilt thou darkling leave me1? do not so.

Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go.

[Exit DEMETRIUS.

Hel. O! I am out of breath in this fond chase.

The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies,

For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:

2 But Athenian FOUND I none,] Thus Fisher's quarto: that by Roberts, and the folio, 1623, read "find I none."

3 this charm doth owE.] i. e. own. See note 1, p. 45.

O! wilt thou DARKLING leave me ?] i. e. in the dark.

If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than her's.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear,

For beasts that meet me, run away for fear;
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne
But who is here ?-Lysander on the ground?
Dead, or asleep?-I see no blood, no wound.-
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

?_

Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet sake. [Waking.

Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art,

That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word

Is that vile name to perish on my sword!

Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.

What though he love your Hermia? Lord! what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.

Lys. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent

The tedious minutes I with her have spent.

Not Hermia, but Helena I love ".

Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd,
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season;
So, I being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's stories, written in love's richest book,

5 Nature here shows art,] The quartos omit "here," and the first folio prints it her: the editor of the second folio altered it to "here ;" but perhaps, as Malone observes, the words "her" and "shows" were transposed, and we ought to read, "Nature shows her art."

6

but Helena I love.] "Now" is inserted in Roberts's quarto and in the folio before "I love," to the injury of the metre, although " Helena" is sometimes to be pronounced in the time of two syllables: see above.

VOL. II.

E e

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well: perforce I must confess,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady, of one man refus'd,

Should, of another, therefore, be abus'd!

[Exit.

Lys. She sees not Hermia.-Hermia, sleep thou

there;

And never may'st thou come Lysander near;
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things

The deepest loathing to the stomach brings;
Or, as the heresies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did deceive';
So thou, my surfeit, and my heresy,

Of all be hated, but the most of me.

And, all my powers, address your love and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her knight.

[Exit.

Her. [starting.] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best,

To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast.
Ah, me, for pity!-what a dream was here!
Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear.
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.-
Lysander! what, remov'd? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Alack! where are you? speak, an if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.

66

7 of those THEY did deceive ;] The folio reads " of those that," &c.

8 And you sat smiling-] The folio reads " And yet sat smiling."

9 Speak, of all loves!] Of all loves is a frequent adjuration used by Shakespeare and his contemporaries.

No?-then I well perceive you are not nigh:
Either death, or you, I'll find immediately.

ACT III. SCENE I.

[Exit.

The same.

The Queen of Fairies lying asleep.

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

Bot. Are we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our 'tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke. Bot. Peter Quince,—

Quin. What say'st thou, bully Bottom?

Bot. There are things in this comedy of " Pyramus and Thisby," that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Snout. By'rlakin, a parlous fear2.

Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done.

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.

1 - our 'TIRING-house ;] i. e. "Attiring-house," the place where the actors attired themselves. Every theatre of old had its 'tiring-room or 'tiring-house. 2 BY'RLAKIN, a PARLOUS fear.] By our ladykin, or little lady. Parlous is a word corrupted from perilous.

Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six 3.

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 it.

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. 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 plainly he is Snug, the joiner *.

Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is 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 almanack; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

3 it shall be written in EIGHT and SIX.] i. e. In verse of fourteen syllables; the popular measure, which was sometimes divided into two lines, the first of eight and the last of six syllables.

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and tell them plainly he is Snug, the joiner.] See in "Anecdotes and Traditions," (by W. J. Thoms,) printed for the Camden Society, p. 28, a story to the same effect, told of Henry Goldingham, in a show before Queen Elizabeth.

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