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.

Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with

haste;

For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,

That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. Come, thou gentle day!
[lies down.
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [sleeps.
Re-enter Puck and Demetrius.

Puck. Ho, ho! ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not?

Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot, Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place;

Where art thou?

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.

Obe. But we are spirits of another sort: I with the morning's love have oft made sport; 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 Oberon. Puch. 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.

Here comes one.

Enter Lysander.

Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak thou now.

Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where

art thou?

Lys. I will be with thee straight.

Puck. Follow me then

Puck. Come hither; I am here. Dem. Nay, then thou mock'st me.

buy this dear,

Thou shal

Thus to make poor females mad.
Enter Hermia.

Her. Never so weary, never so in woe,

Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with

I can no further crawl, no further go; [briers; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me, till the break of day.

Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lysander! speak again.

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak. In some bush? Where dost thou hide

thy head?

[stars,

Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou

Enter Titania and Bottom, Fairies attending; Oberon behind, unseen.

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,

While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

Bot. Give me your nief, monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave courtesy, good monsieur.

Must. What's your will?

Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones.

Tita. Or, say, sweet love, what thou desir'st

So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle, Gently entwist,-the female ivy so

Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.

O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

Oberon advances.

Obe. Welcome, good Robin.

sweet sight?

May all to Athens back again repair;
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be, as thou wast wont to be;

[touching her eyes with an herb

See, as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower

Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon! What visions have I seen!
Methought, I was enamour'd of an ass.

Obe. There lies your love.

Tita. How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now! Obe. Silence awhile.-Robin, take off this

head.

Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep.
Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine
own fool's eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, music. [still music.] Come, my
queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity;
And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puch. Fairy king, attend and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:

We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.

Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,

That I sleeping here was found,

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For meeting her of late, behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her:
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowrets' eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain;
That he, awaking, when the other do,

Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta; never did I hear Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry; I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. [kind,

The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulle Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bulls, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,

In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: Judge, when you hear.Bat, soft; what nymphs are these?

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe The rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.But speak, Egeus; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice? Ege. It is, my lord. [their horns. The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with Horns, and shout within. Demetrius, Lysander, Hermia, and Helena, wake and start up. The. Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine

is past;

Begin these wood-birds but to, couple now?
Lys. Pardon, my lord,

[he and the rest kneel to Thes.
The. I pray you all, stand up. ciwo
I know, you are two rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half 'sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here: But, as I think, (for truly would I speak,And now I do bethink me, so it is;) I came with Hermia hither: our intent Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the peril of the Athenian law.

Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:

I beg the law, the law, upon his head.

And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.

As they go out, Bottom awakes.

Lereunt.

Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer:-my next is, most fair Pyramus.'Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! Flute the bellowsmender; Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's r s my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream,-past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had, but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue what my

Demetrius,

Thereby to have defeated you and me:
You, of your wife; and me, of my consent;
Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their
stealth,

Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them
Fair Helena in fancy following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia,
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,
Which in my childhood I did dote upon :
And all the faith, and virtue of my heart,
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:
But, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we will hear more anon.—
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,

dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke. Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.

[erit.

SCENE II. ATHENS. A ROOM IN QUINCE'S HOUSE. Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. he is transported.

Out of doubt,

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marr'd; it goes not forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he. Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft-man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice.

Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of nought.

Enter Snug.

Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

All that I will tell Get your ap

Bot. Not a word of me. you, is, that the duke hath dined. parel together; good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go away. [exeunt.

SCENE I. THE SAME. AN APARTMENT IN THE PAL ACE OF THESEUS.

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants.

Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

The. More strange than true. I never may be-
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. [lieve
Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact ;

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
And, as imagination bodies forth [heaven;

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination;
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.
Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and
mirth.

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love, Accompany your hearts!

Lys. More than to us

Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed! The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we have,

To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after supper, and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

Philost. Here, mighty Theseus.

The. Say what abridgement have you for this evening?

What mask? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief how many sports are
ripe;

Make choice of which your highness will see first. [gives a paper.

The. [reads.]The battle with the Centaurs,
to be sung

By an Athenian eunuch, to the harp.'
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror
'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.'
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.

'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, And his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth.' Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief? That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord? Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten

words long;

Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play.
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

The. What are they, that do play it?

Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,

Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

The. And we will hear it.
Philost. No, my noble lord,

It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel plain,
To do you service.

The. I will hear that play;

For never any thing can be amiss,