Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere,Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame
Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game,A messe of Russians left vs but of late
Kin. How Madam? Russians?Qu. I in truth, my Lord.Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state
Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord:My Ladie (to the manner of the daies)In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise.We foure indeed confronted were with foureIn Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre,And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord)They did not blesse vs with one happy word.I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke
Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete,Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greeteWith eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie:By light we loose light; your capacitieIs of that nature, that to your huge stoore,Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore
Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eieBer. I am a foole, and full of pouertie
Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue
Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse
Ros. All the foole mine
Ber. I cannot giue you lesse
Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore?Ber. Where? when? What Vizard?Why demand you this?Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face
Kin. We are discried,They'l mocke vs now downeright
Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest
Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnessadde?Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why lookeyou pale?Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie
Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury.Can any face of brasse hold longer out?Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me,Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout.Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance.Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit:And I will wish thee neuer more to dance,Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite.O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd,Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue.Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend,Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue,Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprestIn russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw,Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you
Ber. Yet I haue a trickeOf the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,They are infected, in their hearts it lies:They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes:These Lords are visited, you are not free:For the Lords tokens on you do I see
Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs
Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,That you stand forfeit, being those that sue
Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend
Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end
King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression,some faire excuse
Qu. The fairest is confession.Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd?Kin. Madam, I was
Qu. And were you well aduis'd?Kin. I was faire Madam
Qu. When you then were heere,What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?King. That more then all the world I did respect herQu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiecther
King. Vpon mine Honor no
Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare:Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare
King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine
Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,What did the Russian whisper in your eare?Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deareAs precious eye-sight, and did value meAboue this World: adding thereto moreouer,That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer
Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble LordMost honorably doth vphold his word
King. What meane you Madame?By my life, my trothI neuer swore this Ladie such an oth
Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,You gaue me this: But take it sir againe
King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue
Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare.And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine.I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent,Knowing aforehand of our merriment,To dash it like a Christmas Comedie.Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie,Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som DickThat smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trickTo make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,The Ladies did change Fauours; and then weFollowing the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,We are againe forsworne in will and error.Much vpon this tis: and might not youForestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eieWounds like a Leaden sword
Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreerebene run
Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.Enter Clowne.
Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray
Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno,Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no
Ber. What, are there but three?Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine,For euerie one pursents three
Ber. And three times thrice is nine
Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir
Ber. Is not nine
Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount
Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine
Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by reckning sir
Ber. How much is it? Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir
Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies?Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompeythe great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree ofthe Worthie, but I am to stand for him
Ber. Go, bid them prepare.Enter.
Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take somecare
King. Berowne, they will shame vs:Let them not approach
Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie
Kin. I say they shall not come
Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now;That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.Where Zeale striues to content, and the contentsDies in the Zeale of that which it presents:Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,When great things labouring perish in their birth
Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord.Enter Braggart.
Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thyroyall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words
Qu. Doth this man serue God?Ber. Why aske you?Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making
Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement
King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue
Ber. There is fiue in the first shew
Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so
Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, theFoole, and the Boy,Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine
Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain.Enter Pompey.
Clo. I Pompey am
Ber. You lie, you are not he
Clo. I Pompey am
Boy. With Libbards head on knee
Ber. Well said old mocker,I must needs be friends with thee
Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big
Du. The great
Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great:That oft in field, with Targe and Shield,did make my foe to sweat:And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance,And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse ofFrance.If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done
La. Great thankes great Pompey
Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect.I made a little fault in great
Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues thebest Worthie.Enter Curate for Alexander.
Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander:By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering mightMy Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander
Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not:For it stands too right
Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smellingKnight
Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid:Proceede good Alexander
Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander
Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander
Ber. Pompey the great
Clo. your seruant and Costard
Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort.
Exit Cu.
Qu. Stand aside good Pompey.Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus,And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus:Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie,Ergo, I come with this Apologie.Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.
Exit Boy
Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. A Iudas?Ped. Not Iscariot sir.Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus
Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas
Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas?Ped. Iudas I am
Dum. The more shame for you Iudas
Ped. What meane you sir?Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe
Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder
Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder
Ped. I will not be put out of countenance
Ber. Because thou hast no face
Ped. What is this?Boi. A Citterne head
Dum. The head of a bodkin
Ber. A deaths face in a ring
Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene
Boi. The pummell of Cęsars Faulchion
Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske
Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch
Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead
Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer.And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenancePed. You haue put me out of countenance
Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces
Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all
Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so
Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay?Dum. For the latter end of his name
Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away
Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble
Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, hemay stumble
Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beenebaited.Enter Braggart.
Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector inArmes
Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I willnow be merrie
King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this
Boi. But is this Hector?Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd
Lon. His legge is too big for Hector
Dum. More Calfe certaine
Boi. No, he is best indued in the small
Ber. This cannot be Hector
Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces
Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift
Dum. A gilt Nutmegge
Ber. A Lemmon
Lon. Stucke with Cloues
Dum. No clouen
Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty,Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion;A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yeaFrom morne till night, out of his Pauillion.I am that Flower
Dum. That Mint
Long. That Cullambine
Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue
Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes againstHector
Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound
Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten,Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried:But I will forward with my deuice;Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.
Berowne steppes forth.
Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted
Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper
Boy. Loues her by the foot
Dum. He may not by the yard
Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball.The partie is gone
Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two monethson her way
Brag. What meanest thou?Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, thepoore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child bragsin her belly alreadie: tis yours
Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates?Thou shalt die
Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him
Dum. Most rare Pompey
Boi. Renowned Pompey
Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey:Pompey the huge
Dum. Hector trembles
Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on
Dum. Hector will challenge him
Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea
Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee
Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe
Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies
Clo. Ile do it in my shirt
Dum. Most resolute Pompey
Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation
Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I willnot combat in my shirt
Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made thechallenge
Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will
Ber. What reason haue you for't?Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt,I go woolward for penance
Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.
Mar. God saue you Madame
Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptestour merriment
Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring isheauie in my tongue. The King your fatherQu. Dead for my life
Mar. Euen so: My tale is told
Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud
Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
Exeunt. Worthies
Kin. How fare's your Maiestie?Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night
Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay
Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious LordsFor all your faire endeuours and entreats:Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,The liberall opposition of our spirits,If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues,In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesseWas guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord:A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue.Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes,For my great suite, so easily obtain'd
Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formesAll causes to the purpose of his speed:And often at his verie loose decidesThat, which long processe could not arbitrate.And though the mourning brow of progenieForbid the smiling curtesie of Loue:The holy suite which faine it would conuince,Yet since loues argument was first on foote,Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle itFrom what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost,Is not by much so wholsome profitable,As to reioyce at friends but newly found
Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double
Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefeAnd by these badges vnderstand the King,For your faire sakes haue we neglected time,Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie LadiesHath much deformed vs, fashioning our humorsEuen to the opposed end of our intents.And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous:As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines,All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie.Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formesVarying in subiects as the eie doth roule,To euerie varied obiect in his glance:Which partie-coated presence of loose louePut on by vs, if in your heauenly eies,Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities.Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults,Suggested vs to make: therefore LadiesOur loue being yours, the error that Loue makesIs likewise yours. We to our selues proue false,By being once false, for euer to be trueTo those that make vs both, faire Ladies you.And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne,Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace
Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue:Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue.And in our maiden counsaile rated them,At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie,As bumbast and as lining to the time:But more deuout then these are our respectsHaue we not bene, and therefore met your louesIn their owne fashion, like a merriment
Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest
Lon. So did our lookes
Rosa. We did not coat them so
Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre,Grant vs your loues
Qu. A time me thinkes too short,To make a world-without-end bargaine in:No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much,Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this:If for my Loue (as there is no such cause)You will do ought, this shall you do for me.Your oth I will not trust: but go with speedTo some forlorne and naked Hermitage,Remote from all the pleasures of the world:There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall SignesHaue brought about their annuall reckoning.If this austere insociable life,Change not your offer made in heate of blood:If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weedsNip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue,But that it beare this triall, and last loue:Then at the expiration of the yeare,Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine,I will be thine: and till that instant shutMy wofull selfe vp in a mourning house,Raining the teares of lamentation,For the remembrance of my Fathers death.If this thou do denie, let our hands part,Neither intitled in the others hart
Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie,To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest,The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie.Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest
Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me?Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd.You are attaint with faults and periurie:Therefore if you my fauor meane to get,A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest,But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke
Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me?Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie,With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three
Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife?Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day,Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say.Come when the King doth to my Ladie come:Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some
Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then
Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen
Lon. What saies Maria?Mari. At the tweluemonths end,Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend
Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long
Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong
Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me,Behold the window of my heart, mine eie:What humble suite attends thy answer there,Impose some seruice on me for my loue
Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne,Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongueProclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes,Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes:Which you on all estates will execute,That lie within the mercie of your wit.To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine,And therewithall to win me, if you please,Without the which I am not to be won:You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day,Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerseWith groaning wretches: and your taske shall be,With all the fierce endeuour of your wit,To enforce the pained impotent to smile
Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death?It cannot be, it is impossible.Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie
Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles:A iests prosperitie, lies in the eareOf him that heares it, neuer in the tongueOf him that makes it: then, if sickly eares,Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones,Will heare your idle scornes; continue then,And I will haue you, and that fault withall.But if they will not, throw away that spirit,And I shal finde you emptie of that fault,Right ioyfull of your reformation
Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall,Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall
Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue
King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way
Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play:Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesieMight wel haue made our sport a Comedie
Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day,And then 'twil end
Ber. That's too long for a play.Enter Braggart.
Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me
Qu. Was not that Hector?Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy
Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew
Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so
Brag. Holla, Approach.Enter all.
This side is Hiems, Winter.This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle,Th' other by the Cuckow.Ver, begin.
The Song.
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew:And Ladie-smockes all siluer white,Do paint the Medowes with delight.The Cuckow then on euerie tree,Mockes married men, for thus sings he,Cuckow.Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,Vnpleasing to a married eare.When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes,And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes:When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes,And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:The Cuckow then on euerie treeMockes married men; for thus sings he,Cuckow.Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,Vnpleasing to a married eare
Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall,And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile;And Tom beares Logges into the hall,And Milke comes frozen home in paile:When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle,Then nightly sings the staring OwleTuwhit towho.A merrie note,While greasie Ione doth keele the pot.When all aloud the winde doth blow,And coffing drownes the Parsons saw:And birds sit brooding in the snow,And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle,Then nightly sings the staring Owle,Tuwhit towho:A merrie note,While greasie Ione doth keele the pot
Brag. The Words of Mercurie,Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:You that way; we this way.
Exeunt. omnes.
FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.
A Midsommer Nights Dreame
Actus primus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.
Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houreDrawes on apace: foure happy daies bring inAnother Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slowThis old Moon wanes; She lingers my desiresLike to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,Long withering out a yong mans reuennew
Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nightsFoure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,Now bent in heauen, shal behold the nightOf our solemnities
The. Go Philostrate,Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:The pale companion is not for our pompe,Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:But I will wed thee in another key,With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling.Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.
Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke
The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaintAgainst my childe, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth Demetrius.
My Noble Lord,This man hath my consent to marrie her.
Stand forth Lysander.
And my gracious Duke,This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe:Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes,And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung,With faining voice, verses of faining loue,And stolne the impression of her fantasie,With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits,Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengersOf strong preuailment in vnhardned youth)With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart,Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me)To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke,Be it so she will not heere before your Grace,Consent to marrie with Demetrius,I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;As she is mine, I may dispose of her;Which shall be either to this Gentleman,Or to her death, according to our Law,Immediately prouided in that case
The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide,To you your Father should be as a God;One that compos'd your beauties; yea and oneTo whom you are but as a forme in waxeBy him imprinted: and within his power,To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman
Her. So is Lysander
The. In himselfe he is.But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce,The other must be held the worthier
Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes
The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke
Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.I know not by what power I am made bold,Nor how it may concerne my modestieIn such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts:But I beseech your Grace, that I may knowThe worst that may befall me in this case,If I refuse to wed Demetrius
The. Either to dye the death, or to abiureFor euer the society of men.Therefore faire Hermia question your desires,Know of your youth, examine well your blood,Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice)You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd,To liue a barren sister all your life,Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone,Thrice blessed they that master so their blood,To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd,Then that which withering on the virgin thorne,Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse
Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord,Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vpVnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake,My soule consents not to giue soueraignty
The. Take time to pause, and by the next new MoonThe sealing day betwixt my loue and me,For euerlasting bond of fellowship:Vpon that day either prepare to dye,For disobedience to your fathers will,Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,Or on Dianaes Altar to protestFor aie, austerity, and single life
Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeeldeThy crazed title to my certaine right
Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius:Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him
Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue;And what is mine, my loue shall render him.And she is mine, and all my right of her,I do estate vnto Demetrius
Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he,As well possest: my loue is more then his:My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:And (which is more then all these boasts can be)I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.Why should not I then prosecute my right?Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes,Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,Vpon this spotted and inconstant man
The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much,And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof:But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come,And come Egeus, you shall go with me,I haue some priuate schooling for you both.For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe,To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)To death, or to a vow of single life.Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?Demetrius and Egeus go along:I must imploy you in some businesseAgainst our nuptiall, and conferre with youOf something, neerely that concernes your selues
Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.
Exeunt.
Manet Lysander and Hermia.
Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale?How chance the Roses there do fade so fast?Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could wellBeteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes
Lys. For ought that euer I could reade,Could euer heare by tale or historie,The course of true loue neuer did run smooth,But either it was different in blood
Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares
Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong
Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit
Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie
Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise,Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it;Making it momentarie, as a sound:Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame,Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth;And ere a man hath power to say, behold,The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:So quicke bright things come to confusion
Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost,It stands as an edict in destinie:Then let vs teach our triall patience,Because it is a customarie crosse,As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes,Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers
Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia,I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe,From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues,And she respects me, as her onely sonne:There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,And to that place, the sharpe Athenian LawCannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, thenSteale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night:And in the wood, a league without the towne,(Where I did meete thee once with Helena.To do obseruance for a morne of May)There will I stay for thee
Her. My good Lysander,I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow,By his best arrow with the golden head,By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue,And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene,By all the vowes that euer men haue broke,(In number more then euer women spoke)In that same place thou hast appointed me,To morrow truly will I meete with thee
Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena.Enter Helena.
Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away?Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay,Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayreMore tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare,When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare,Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so,Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie,Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,The rest Ile giue to be to you translated.O teach me how you looke, and with what artYou sway the motion of Demetrius hart
Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still
Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles such skil
Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue
Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue
Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me
Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me
Her. His folly Helena is none of mine
Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mineHer. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face,Lysander and my selfe will flie this place.Before the time I did Lysander see,Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell
Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold,To morrow night, when Phoebe doth beholdHer siluer visage, in the watry glasse,Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye,Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld:There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete,And thence from Athens turne away our eyesTo seeke new friends and strange companions,Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs,And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight,From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.
Exit Hermia.
Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu,As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.
Exit Lysander.
Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be?Through Athens I am thought as faire as she.But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:He will not know, what all, but he doth know,And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes;So I, admiring of his qualities:Things base and vilde, holding no quantity,Loue can transpose to forme and dignity,Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde.Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste:Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste.And therefore is Loue said to be a childe,Because in choise he is often beguil'd,As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare;So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where.For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt,I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:Then to the wood will he, to morrow nightPursue her; and for his intelligence,If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence:But heerein meane I to enrich my paine,To haue his sight thither, and backe againe.Enter.
Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.
Quin. Is all our company heere?Bot. You were best to call them generally, man byman according to the scrip
Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding day at night
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point
Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie
Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues
Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome theWeauer
Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, andproceed
Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus
Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly forloue
Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling
Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender
Flu. Heere Peter Quince
Quin. You must take Thisbie on you
Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue
Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue abeard comming
Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, andyou may speake as small as you will
Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ahPyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Ladydeare
Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, youThisby
Bot. Well, proceed
Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor
Star. Heere Peter Quince
Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbiesmother?Tom Snowt, the Tinker
Snowt. Heere Peter Quince
Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted
Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you ifbe, giue it me, for I am slow of studie
Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothingbut roaring
Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe
Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough to hang us all
All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne
Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale
Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore you must needs play Piramus
Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were Ibest to play it in?Quin. Why, what you will
Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect yellow
Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not
Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect, adieu
Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete
Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.
Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you?Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar,Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere;And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green.The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee,In their gold coats, spots you see,Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,In those freckles, liue their sauors,I must go seeke some dew drops heere,And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare.Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon,Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon
Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,Take heed the Queene come not within his sight,For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,Because that she, as her attendant, hathA louely boy stolne from an Indian King,She neuer had so sweet a changeling,And iealous Oberon would haue the childeKnight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde.But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy.And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene,By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene,But they do square, that all their Elues for feareCreepe into Acorne cups and hide them there
Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spiritCal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,That frights the maidens of the Villagree,Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne,And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke,You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke.Are not you he?Rob. Thou speak'st aright;I am that merrie wanderer of the night:I iest to Oberon, and make him smile,When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale,And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole,In very likenesse of a roasted crab:And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob,And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale,Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me,Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she,And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,A merrier houre was neuer wasted there.But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon
Fair. And heere my Mistris:Would that he were gone.Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and theQueene atanother with hers.
Ob. Ill met by Moone-light.Proud Tytania
Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence.I haue forsworne his bed and companie
Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord?Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I knowWhen thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land,And in the shape of Corin, sate all day,Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loueTo amorous Phillida. Why art thou heereCome from the farthest steepe of India?But that forsooth the bouncing AmazonYour buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue,To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come,To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie
Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania.Glance at my credite, with Hippolita?Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus?Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering nightFrom Peregenia, whom he rauished?And make him with faire Eagles breake his faithWith Ariadne, and Antiopa?Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie,And neuer since the middle Summers springMet we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead,By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke,Or in the beached margent of the sea,To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport.Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the seaContagious fogges: Which falling in the Land,Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene CorneHath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:The fold stands empty in the drowned field,And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke,The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene,For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable.The humane mortals want their winter heere,No night is now with hymne or caroll blest;Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods)Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound.And through this distemperature, we seeThe seasons alter; hoared headed FrostsFall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose,And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne,An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer budsIs as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer,The childing Autumne, angry Winter changeTheir wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,By their increase, now knowes not which is which;And this same progeny of euills,Comes from our debate, from our dissention,We are their parents and originall
Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you,Why should Titania crosse her Oberon?I do but beg a little changeling boy,To be my Henchman
Qu. Set your heart at rest,The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me,His mother was a Votresse of my Order,And in the spiced Indian aire, by nightFull often hath she gossipt by my side,And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands,Marking th' embarked traders on the flood,When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue,And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:Which she with pretty and with swimming gate,Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.But she being mortall, of that boy did die,And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy,And for her sake I will not part with him
Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay?Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day.If you will patiently dance in our Round,And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts
Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee
Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay.
Exeunt
Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue,Till I torment thee for this iniury.My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrestSince once I sat vpon a promontory,And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe,Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song,And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares,To heare the Sea-maids musicke
Puc. I remember
Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not)Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tookeAt a faire Vestall, throned by the West,And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow,As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts,But I might see young Cupids fiery shaftQuencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone;And the imperiall Votresse passed on,In maiden meditation, fancy free.Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell.It fell vpon a little westerne flower;Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound,And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse.Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once,The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid,Will make or man or woman madly doteVpon the next liue creature that it sees.Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league
Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes
Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe,And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:The next thing when she waking lookes vpon,(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue.And ere I take this charme off from her sight,(As I can take it with another hearbe)Ile make her render vp her Page to me.But who comes heere? I am inuisible,And I will ouer-heare their conference.Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not,Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia?The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me.Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood;And heere am I, and wood within this wood,Because I cannot meet my Hermia.Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more
Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,But yet you draw not Iron, for my heartIs true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw,And I shall haue no power to follow you
Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire?Or rather doe I not in plainest truth,Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more;I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,The more you beat me, I will fawne on you.Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me,Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.What worser place can I beg in your loue,(And yet a place of high respect with me)Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge
Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit,For I am sicke when I do looke on thee
Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you
Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much,To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfeInto the hands of one that loues you not,To trust the opportunity of night.And the ill counsell of a desert place,With the rich worth of your virginity
Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for thatIt is not night when I doe see your face.Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,For you in my respect are all the world.Then how can it be said I am alone,When all the world is heere to looke on me?Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts
Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you;Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd:Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde HindeMakes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede,When cowardise pursues, and valour flies
Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go;Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood
Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and FieldYou doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius,Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe:We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,To die vpon the hand I loue so well.Enter.
Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue,Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue.Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.Enter Pucke.
Puck. I there it is
Ob. I pray thee giue it me.I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes,Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine,With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine;There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night,Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight:And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne,Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes,And make her full of hatefull fantasies.Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue;A sweet Athenian Lady is in loueWith a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,But doe it when the next thing he espies,May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,By the Athenian garments he hath on.Effect it with some care, that he may proueMore fond on her, then she vpon her loue;And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow
Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so.Enter.
Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.
Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song;Then for the third part of a minute hence,Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds,Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings.To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backeThe clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wondersAt our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe,Then to your offices, and let me rest
Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue,Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene,Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong,Come not neere our Fairy Queene.Philomele with melodie,Sing in your sweet Lullaby.Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme,Come our louely Lady nye,So good night with Lullaby
2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere,Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence:Beetles blacke approach not neere;Worme nor Snayle doe no offence.Philomele with melody, &c
1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well;One aloofe, stand Centinell.
Shee sleepes.
Enter Oberon.
Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake,Do it for thy true Loue take:Loue and languish for his sake.Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,In thy eye that shall appeare,When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,Wake when some vile thing is neere.Enter Lisander and Hermia.
Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods,And to speake troth I haue forgot our way:Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good,And tarry for the comfort of the day
Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed,For I vpon this banke will rest my head
Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both,One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth
Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deereLie further off yet, doe not lie so neere