But gentle friend, for love and curtefie
Lye further off; in human modesty.
Such feparation, as, may well be faid,
Becomes a virtuous batchelor and a maid,
So far be diftant; and good night, fweet friend;
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy fweet life end!
Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed; fleep give thee all his reft!

Her. With half that wish the wifher's eyes be preft!

Enter Puck.

Puck. Through the foreft have I gone,

But Athenian found I none,

On whofe eyes I might approve

This flower's force in ftirring love:

Night and filence! who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear;
This is he, my mafter faid,
Defpifed the Athenian maid,
And here the maiden fleeping found
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty foul! fhe durft not lye
Near this lack-love kill-curtefie.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the pow'r this charm doth owe:
When thou wak'ft, let love forbid
Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid;
So awake, when I am gone:

For I must now to Oberon.

SCENE VII.

[They fleep.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

[Exit,

Hel. Stay, tho' thou kill me, fweet Demetrius!

Dem.

Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not fo. Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go.

[Exit Demetrius,
Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chace;
The more my prayer, the leffer is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er fhe lies;
For the hath bleffed, and attractive, eyes.
How came her eyes fo bright? not with falt tears;
If fo, my eyes are oftner wafh'd than hers:
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beafts, that meet me, run away for fear,
Therefore no marvel, tho' Demetrius
Do (as a monster) fly my prefence thus.
What wicked, and diffembling, glafs of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's fphery eyne?
But who is here? Lyfander on the ground:
Dead or afleep? I fee no blood, no wound:
Lyfander, if you live, good Sir, awake.

Lyf. And run thro' fire I will, for thy fweet fake.

[Waking.

Transparent Helen, nature here shews art,
That through thy bofom makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perifh on my fword!

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander, fay not fo;
What tho' he love your Hermia, lord, what tho'?
Yet Hermia ftill loves you; then be content.

Lyf. Content with Hermia? no: I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have fpent;
Not Hermia, but Helen now I love:
Who will not change a raven for a cove?
The will of man is by his reafon fway'd:
And reafon fays, you are the worthier maid.
Things, growing, are not ripe until their feafon;
So 1; being young, 'till now ripe not to reafon;

}

And,

And, touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marfhal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's ftories, written in love's richest book.

1

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mock'ry born? When at your hands did I deferve this fcorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deferve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my infufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong; good footh, you do, In fuch difdainful manner me to woo:

But fare you well. Perforce I must confefs,

I thought you lord of more true gentleness;
Oh, that a lady, of one man refus'd,

Should of another therefore be abus'd!

[Exit.

Lyf. She fees not Hermia; Hermia, fleep thou there;

And never may'st thou come Lyfander near;
For as a furfeit of the fweeteft things

The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings;
Or as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of thofe they did deceive:
So thou, my furfeit and my herefie,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!
And all my pow'rs addrefs your love and might
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight!

[Exit. Her. Help me, Lyfander, help me! do thy best To pluck this crawling ferpent from my breaft: Ay me, for pity!--what a dream was here? Lyfander, look, how I do quake with fear; Me-thought, a ferpent eat my heart away; And you fat fmiling at his cruel prey. Lyfander! what remov'd? Lyfander, lord! What, out of hearing gone? no found, no word? Alack, where are you? fpeak, and if you hear, Speak, of all loves; I fwoon almoft, with fear.

1 Reafon becomes the marshal to my will. That is, My Will now fol ows reafon.

No?

No? then I well perceive, you are not nigh;
Or death, or you, I'll find immediately.

ACT III. SCENE I.*

The Wood.

[Exit.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout and

A

Starveling.

The Queen of Fairies lying afleep.

RE we all met?

Воттом.

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our ftage, this hauthorn-brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot. Peter Quince

Quin. What fay'ft thou, bully Bottom?

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

Snout. By'rlaken, a parlous fear.

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 feem to fay, we will do no harm with our fwords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for more better affurance tell

In the time of Shakespear there were many companies of players, fometimes five at the fame time, contending for the favour of the publick. Of thefe fome were undoubtedly very unfkilful and very poor, and it is probable that the defign of this

Scene was to ridicule their ignorance, and the odd expedients to which they might be driven by the want of proper decorations. Bettem was perhaps the head of a rival houfe, and is therefore honoured with an Ass's head.

them,

them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver; this will put them out of fear.

Quin. Well, we will have fuch a prologue, and it fhall be written in eight and fix.

Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.

Snout. Will not the ladies be afraid of the lion?
Star. I fear it, I promise you.

Bot. Masters, you ought to confider with yourselves; to bring in, God fhield us, a lion among ladies, is moft 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 muft tell, he is not a lion.

Bot. Nay you must name his name, and half his face must be feen through the lion's neck; and he himfelf muft fpeak through, faying thus, or to the fame defect; ladies, or fair ladies, I would with you, or I would request you, or I would intreat 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 fuch 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 fhall be fo; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moon-light.

Snug. Doth the moon fhine that night we play our

play?

Bot. A kalendar, a kalendar! look in the almanack; find out moon-fhine, find out moon-fhine.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

Bot. Why then you may leave a cafement of the great chamber window, where we play, open; and the moon may fhine in at the cafement.

Quin. Ay, or elfe one must come in with a bufh of

thorns