Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong ;
Come not near our fairy queen:

Chorus.

Philomel, with melody,

Sing in your sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm, nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby.

Second Fairy.

Weaving spiders, come not here;

Hence, you long-legg`d spinners, hence:
Beetles black, approach not near;

Worm, nor snail, do no offence.

Chorus.

Philomel, with melody, &c.

First Fairy.

Hence, away; now all is well:

One, aloof, stand sentinel.

290

[Exeunt Fairies, The Queen sleeps.

Enter OBERON.

06. What thou seest, when thou dost wake,

[Squeezes the Flower on her Eye-lids.

Love, and languish for his sake :
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak'st, it is thy dear;

Wake, when some vile thing is near.

Exit OBERON.

Enter LYSANDER, and HERMIA.

Lys. Fair Love, you faint with wandering in the

wood;

And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,

And tarry for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,

For I upon this bank will rest my head.

310

Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
Her. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lye further off yet, do not lye so near.

Lys. O, take the sense, sweet of my innocence
Love takes the meaning, in love's conference.
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit;
So that but one heart we can make of it:
Two bosoms interchained with an oath ;
So then, two bosoms, and a single troth.
Then, by your side no bed-room me deny;
For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
Her. Lysander, riddles very prettily:-

Now much beshrew my manners, and my pride,

;

320

If Hermia meant to say, Lysander ly'd.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lye further off; in human modesty
Such separation, as, may well be said,
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid:

So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend :
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy sweet life end!

Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life, when I end loyalty!

Here is my bed: Sleep give thee all his rest!

330

Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be

press'd!

Enter PUCK.

Puck Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none,

[They sleep.

On whose eyes I might approve

349

This flower's force in stirring love.

Night and silence! who is here?

Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,

Despised the Athenian maid;

And here the maiden, sleeping sound,

On the dank and dirty ground.

Pretty soul! she durst not lye

Near to this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.

Churl, upon thy eyes I throw

350

All the power this charm doth owe;
When thou wak'st, let love forbid

Sleep his seat on thy eye-lid.

So

[Exit.

So awake, when I am gone;

For I must now to Oberon.

Enter DEMETRIUS, and HELENA running.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. 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 lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies;

For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.

361

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: If so, my eyes are oftner wash'd than hers.

No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beasts, that meet me, run away for fear:
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ?-
But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound :-
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.

Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet [Waking.

sake.

Transparent Helena! Nature shews art,

That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word

Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!
Heb. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so:
What though he love your Hermia?

though?

380 Lord, what

Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Lys. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena I love:

Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd;
And reason says, you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's stories, written in love's richest book.

390

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,

Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?

400

Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.

But fare you well; perforce I must confess,
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. Lys.