get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. 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; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed! Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; 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 43, To have my love to bed, and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moon beams from his sleeping eyes: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 1 Fai. Hail, mortal! 2 Fai. Hail! 3 Fai. Hail! 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. I 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 wat'ry eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another part of the Wood. Enter OBERON. Obe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; Enter PUCK. mad spirit? Here comes my messenger.-How now, Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimick comes: When they him spy, 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; 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, And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day, This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him; 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? An adder did it; for with doubler tongue 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. |