SCENE IThe wood. Titania lying asleep.
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT and STARVELING.
Are we all met?
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.
What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
There are things in this comedy of
Pyramus and Thisby that will never please.
First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill him-
self; which the ladies cannot abide. How
answer you that?
By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
I believe we must leave the killing
out, when all is done.
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 that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus,
but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out
Well, we will have such a prologue;
and it shall be written in eight and six.
No, make it two more; let it be writ-
ten in eight and eight.
Will not the ladies be afeard of
I fear it, I promise you.
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.
Therefore another prologue must
tell he is not a lion.
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 in-
deed let him name his name, and tell them
plainly he is Snug the joiner.
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 (51)
Thisby meet by moonlight.
Doth the moon shine that night we
play our play?
A calendar, a calendar! look in the
almanac; find out moonshine, find out moon-
Yes, it doth shine that night.
Why, then may you leave a casement
of the great chamber window, where we play,
open, and the moon may shine in at the casement.
Ay; or else one must come in with
a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, 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.
You can never bring in a wall.
What say you, Bottom?
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
If that may be, then all is well.
Come, sit down, every mother's son, and re-
hearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when
you have spoken your speech, enter into that
brake: and so every one according to his cue. Enter PUCK behind.
What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, (80)
So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.
Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
Thisby, the flowers of odious savors sweet,--
---odors savors 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.
A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. [Exit.
Must I speak now?
Ay, marry, must you; for you must
understand he goes but to see a noise that he
heard, and is to come again.
Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
Of color 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. (99)
I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
'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 past; it
is, 'never tire.'
O,--As true as truest horse; that yet would never tire. Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head.
If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
O monstrous! O strange! we are
haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help! [Exeunt Quince, Snug, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, (110)
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 burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit.
Why do they run away? this is a
knavery of them to make me afeard. Re-enter SNOUT.
O Bottom, thou art changed! what
do I see on thee?
What do you see? you see an ass-
head of your own, do you? [Exit Snout. Re-enter QUINCE.
Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou
art translated. [Exit.
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. [Sings.
The ousel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill, (130)
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill,--
What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
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?
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: (141)
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.
Methinks, mistress, you should have
little reason for that: and yet, to say the
truth, reason and love keep little company to-
gether now-a-days; the more the pity that
some honest neighbors will not make them (150)
friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Not so, neither: but if I had wit
enough to get out of this wood, I have enough
to serve mine own turn.
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; (160)
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;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed! Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED.
Where shall we go?
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; (169)
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.
I cry your worship's mercy, heartily:
I beeseech your worship's name.
I shall desire you of more acquaint-
ance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger,
I shall make bold with you. Your name,
honest gentleman? (189)
I pray you, commend me to Mistress
Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod,
your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I
shall desire you of more acquaintance too.
Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Good Master Mustardseed, I know
your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-
like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman
of your house: I promise you your kindred
hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire
your more acquaintance, good Master Mus- (201)
Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt.
SCENE IIAnother part of the wood.
I wonder if Titania be awaked;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on in extremity. Enter PUCK.
Here comes my messenger.
How now, mad spirit!
What night-rule now about this haunted grove ?
My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, (10)
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head:
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, (20)
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; (30)
Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
I took him sleeping,--that is finish'd too,--
And the Athenian woman by his side: (40)
That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS.
Stand close: this is the same Athenian.
This is the woman, but not this the man.
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse,
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too. (50)
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me: would he have stolen away
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bored and that the moon
May through the centre creep and so displease
Her brother's noontide with the Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
So should the murder'd look, and so should I,
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, (61)
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
What's this to my Lysander? where is he
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!
O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, (70)
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
You spend your passion on a misprised mood:
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
An if I could, what should I get therefore?
A privilege never to see me more. (80)
And from thy hated presence part I so:
See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit.
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 and sleeps.
What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: (90)
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true.
Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
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 costs the fresh blood dear:
By some illusion see thou bring her here:
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. (100)
I go, I go; look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit.
Flower of this purple dye,
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 wakest, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy. Re-enter PUCK.
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Stand aside; the noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
Then will two at once woo one;
That must needs be sport alone;
And those things do best please me (121)
That befall preposterously. Enter Lysander and Helena.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!
These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? (131)
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.
I had no judgement when to her I swore.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eye? (139)
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment:
If you were civil and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do, (150)
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow and swear and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena:
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision! none of noble sort (160)
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia; this you know I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love and will do till my death.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: (170)
If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
And now to Helen is it home return'd,
There to remain.
Helen, it is not so.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. Re-enter HERMIA.
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, (180)
It pays the hearing double recompense.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
What love could press Lysander from my side?
Lysander's love, that would not let him bide,
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? (191)
You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
To fashion this false sport, in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, (200)
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,--O, is it all forgot?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, (210)
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, (219)
Though I alone do feel the injury. (220)
I am amazed at your passionate words.
I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul, (230)
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
But miserable most, to love unloved?
This you should pity rather than despise.
I understand not what you mean by this.
Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. (241)
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault;
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.
Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: (250)
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false that says I love thee not.
I say I love thee more than he can do.
If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
Away, you Ethiope!
No, no; he'll...
Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! (260)
Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!
Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?
Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!
Do you not jest?
Yes, sooth; and so do you.
Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
I would I had your bond, for I perceive
A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word.
What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? (270)
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
What, can you do me greater harm than hate?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love!
Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me:
Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!--
In earnest, shall I say?
Ay, by my life;
And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; (280)
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
That I do hate thee and love Helena.
O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night
And stolen my love's heart from him?
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!
Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare (291)
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem;
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted Maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, (300)
Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice:
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
Because she is something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
Lower! hark, again.
Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius, (310)
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him;
But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I bear my folly back
And follow you no further: let me go:
You see how simple and how fond I am.
Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you?
A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
What, with Lysander? (320)
Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
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.
'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
Get you gone, you dwarf;
You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made;
You bead, you acorn. (330)
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
Never so little show of love to her,
Thou shalt aby it.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. [Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius.
You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:
Nay, go not back. (340)
I will not trust you, I,
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though, to run away.[Exit.
I am amazed, and know not what to say. [Exit.
This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man
By the Athenian garment he had on? (350)
And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it so did sort
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight:
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog as black as Acheron,
And lead these testy rivals so astray
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, (361)
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with his might,
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. (370)
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision,
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league whose date till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, (380)
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger:
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They wilfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the morning's love have oft made sport, (390)
And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day. [Exit.
Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field and town:
Goblin, lead them up and down. (400)
Here comes one. Re-enter LYSANDER.
Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
I will be with thee straight.
Follow me, then,
To plainer ground. [Exit Lysander, as following the voice.
Lysander! speak again:
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child; (410)
I'll whip thee with a rod; he is defiled
That draws a sword on thee.
Yea, art thou there?
Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here. [Exeunt.
He goes before me and still dares me on:
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. [Lies down.]
Come, thou gentle day!
For if but once thou show me thy grey light, (420)
I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. [Sleeps.
Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS.
Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?
Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place,
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.
Where art thou now?
Come hither: I am here.
Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
If ever I thy face by daylight see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed. (430)
By day's approach look to be visited. [Lies down and sleeps.
O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest:
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Lies down and sleeps.
Yet but three? Come one more;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad: (440)
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad. Re-enter HERMIA.
Never so weary, never so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,
I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies down and sleeps.
On the ground
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy. [Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eyes.
When thou wakest,
In the sight
Of thy former lady's eye:
And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own, (460)
In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. [Exit.