Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, [Waking. Whose note full many a man doth mark, for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would give a bird the lie, though he cry cuckoo, ever so? Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again. Mine ear is much enamored of thy note; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that; and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays. The more the pity, that some honest neighbors will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to 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; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep; That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.- All. Were shall we go? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship's 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. Tie up my lover's tongue; bring him silently. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Part of the Wood. Enter OBERON. Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked; Enter PUCK. Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove? That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, And forth my mimic 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, Some, sleeves; some, hats; from yielders all things catch. And left sweet Pyramus translated there; Puck. I took him sleeping, that is finished, too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. 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 stolen away May through the centre creep, and so displease Dem. So should the murdered look; and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty. Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 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. Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised 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, For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; [Lies down. Obe. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight. Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true. Puck. Then fate o'errules; 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; Hit with Cupid's archery, Re-enter PUCK. Puck. Captain of our fairy band, And the youth mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Obe. Stand aside; the noise they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake. Puck. Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me, That befall preposterously. Enter LYSANDER and HELENA. [Exit. Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn? Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born How can these things in me seem scorn to you, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? |