4 Fai. Where shall we go? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 1 Fai. Hail, mortal! 2 Fai, Hail! 3 Fai. Hail!` 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. 1 cry your worships mercy, heartily.-I beseech, your worship's name. Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman ? Peas. Peas-blossom. 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 too.-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 a gentleman of your house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed. Tita. 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. SCENE II.-Another part of the Wood. Enter OBERON. Obe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; Enter PUCK. [Exeunt. Here comes my messenger.-How now, mad spirit? Near to her close and consecrated bower, Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimick comes: When they him spy, 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, I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there: Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. Puck. I took him sleeping,-that is finish'd too, And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey❜d. Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him, that loves you so! Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Her. 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, The sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me: Would he have stol'n away Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I, Her. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the. bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake; Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. Her. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A privilege, never to see me more.— And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein : Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow Some true-love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true. Puck. Then fate o'er rules; that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. Obe. 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 cost the fresh blood dear: Puck. I go, I go; look, how I go; Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye! When his love he doth espy, [Exit. |