The Plays of William Shakespeare

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriment;

Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;

Turn melancholy forth to funerals,

-Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats; messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth:
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness :-And, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens;
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman,
Or to her death; according to our law,
Immediately provided in that case.

The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: To you your father should be as a god;

One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one

To whom you are but as a forın in wax,

The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Ex. Phil. By him imprinted, and within his power

-Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,

To leave the figure, or distigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

In himself he is:

And won thy love, doing thee injuries;

But I will wed thee in another key,

With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

Enter Egens, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. Lge. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!

The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the new's with

ther?

Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint

Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
-Stand forth, Demetrius;-My noble lord,
This ruan hath my consent to marry her:
-Stand forth, Lysander; and, my gracious duke,
Jas bath bewitch'd the bosom, of my child:

Her. So is Lysander. The.

But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.

Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes.

The. Rather your eyes must with his judgement

look.

Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold; Nor how it may concern my modesty,

In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts: But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befal me in this case,

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,

You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood,
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage:
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,
Than that, which, with'ring on the virgin thorn,
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.

Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, to whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

The. Take time to pause: and, by the next new
moon,

(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,

For everlasting bond of fellowship)

Upon that day either prepare to die,

For disobedience to your father's will;

Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would;

Or on Diana's altar to protest,

For aye, austerity, and single life.

Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.

Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,

Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth:
But, either it was different in blood ;-

Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low!
Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years ;-
Her. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young!
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;-
Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye!
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,

War, death, or sickness did lay seige to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up :

So quick bright things come to confusion.

Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an ediet in destiny:

Then let us teach our trial patience,

Because it is a customary cross;

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,
Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager

Of great revenue, and she hath no child:

And she respects me as her only son.

Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia :-And, Lysander, yield From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; Thy crazed title to my certain right.

Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius;

Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.

Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love;

And what is mine my love shall render him;
And she is mine; and all my right of her

I do estate unto Demetrius.

Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';

And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia:

Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,

Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

The. I must confess, that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;

And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
I have some private schooling for you both.
-For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up
(Which by no means we may extenuate)
To death, or to a vow of single life.
-Come, my Hippolyta; What cheer, my love?
-Demetrius, and Egens, go along:
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial; and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
Ege. With duty and desire, we follow you.

[Exeunt Thes. Hip. Egeus, Dem. and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your check so pale ?

How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

Hier. Belike, for want of rain; which I could well

There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us: If thou lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do observance to a morn of May,

There will I stay for thee.

Her.

My good Lysander!

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;
By his best arrow with the golden head;

By the simplicity of Venus' doves;

By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves:
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,

When the false Trojan under sail was seen;

By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke;
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow, truly will I meet with thee.

Lys. Keep promise, love: Look, here comes Helena.

Enter Helena.

Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; 0, were favour so!
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I'll give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
Ilel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such
skill!

Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

Ned. O, that my prayers could such affection move ! || edy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.

Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.

Hel. None, but your beauty; 'Would that fault were mine!

Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place.Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: O then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell! Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: To-morrow-night, when Phœbe doth behold Her silver visage in the watry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet: There my Lysander and myself shall meet: And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!

-Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight. [Exit. Lys. I will, my Hermia-Helena, adieu:

As you on him. Demetrius dote on you!

[Exit.

Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. Bat what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; He will not know what all but he do know. And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste; Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy love is perjur'd every where: For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will be, to-morrow night, Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither, and back again.

[Exit.

SCENE II-The same. A Room in a Cottage. Enter Sang, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and Starveling. Quin. Is all your company here?

Est. You were best to call them generally, man by as, according to the serip.

Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interhude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play freats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grew to a point.

Quin, Marry, our play is-The most lamentable com

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, anda merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the seroll:-Masters, spread yourselves.

Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the

weaver.

Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest:-Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.

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Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

Bot. An' I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice; -Thisne, Thisne, Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear!

Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus; and, Flute,

you Thisby.

Bot. Well, proceed.

Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.

Star. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's

mother. Tom Snout, the tinker.

Snout. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father;-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:-and, I hope, here is a play fitted.

Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him rear again, Let him rear again.

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us every mother's son.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pr

ramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one And sometime make the drink to bear no barın; shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, gentle-Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? man-like man; therefore you must needs play Pyra

mus.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?

Quin. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-ingrain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogg'd with company. and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet.
Bot. Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A Wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy at one door, and Puck at another.

Puck.

HOW now, spirit! whither wander you?
Fai. Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moones sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see ;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone;
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night;
Take heed, the queen come not within his sight.
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she, as her attendant, hath
A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling:
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild:
But she, perforee, withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers. and makes him all her joy:
And now they never Licet in grove, or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen,
But they do square; that all their elves, for fear,
Creep into acorn-cups, and hide them there.

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite,
Call'd Robin Good-fellow are you not he,
That fright the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;

Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?

Puck.

Thou speak'st aright;

I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab:

And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And tailor cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe;
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear

A merrier hour was never wasted there.
-But room, Faery, here comes Oberon.

Fai. And here my mistress:-'Would that he were
gone!

SCENE II.-Enter Oberon, at one door, with his train,
and Titania, at another, with her's.

Ob. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.
Tita. What, jealous Oberon ?-Fairy, skip hence;
I have forsworn his bed and company.

Ob. Tarry, rash wanton; Am not I thy lord?
Tita. Then I must be thy lady: But I know
When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love,
To Thesens must be wedded; and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity.

Ob. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering light
From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair Ægle break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?

Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or on the beached margent of the sea,
To dance ourringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land,
Have every pelting river made so proud,
That they have over-borne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock;
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud;
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
For lack of tread are undistinguishable:
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hynn or carol blest:

Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hyems' chin, and iey crown,

An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set: The spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change

Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world,

By their increase, now knows not which is which:

And the same progeny of evils comes

From our debate, from our dissension;

We are the parents and original.

05. Do you amend it then: it lies in you:

Why should Titania cross her Oberon?

I do but beg a little changeling boy,

To be my henchman.

The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a vot'ress of my order: And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking the embark'd traders on the flood; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait, (Following her womb, then rich with my young 'squire,) Would imitate; and sail upon the land To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. Bat she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy: And, for her sake, I will not part with him. Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay? Tita. Perchance, till after Thescus' wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round, And see our moon-light revels, go with us; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 06. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. Tita. Not for thy kingdom.-Fairies, away: We shall chide down-right, if I longer stay.

[Exeunt Tita. and her Train.

05. Well, go thy way: thot shalt not from this grove, Till I torment thee for this injury.

-My gentle Puck, come hither: Thou remember'st
Smee once I sat upon a promontory,

And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song;

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,

To hear the sea-maid's music.

06. That very time I saw, (but thou couldst not) Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took

At a fair vestal, throned by the west;

And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:
But I raight see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon;
And the imperial vot'ress passed on,

In maiden meditation, faney-free.

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,-
Before, milk-white; now purple with love's wound,-
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.

Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once;

The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again, Ere the leviathan can swim a league.

Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. Ob.

Having once this juice,

I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:

The next thing then she waking looks upon,

(Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,

On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,)

She shall pursue it with the soul of love.

And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
(As I can take it, with another herb)
I'll make her render up her page to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will over-hear their conference.

[Exit.

Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.

Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
Thou told'st me, they were stol'n into this wood,
And here am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel: Leave you your power to draw
And I shall have no power to follow you.

Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you-I do not, nor I cannot love you?

Hel. And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.

What worser place can I beg in your love,
(And yet a place of high respect with me)
Than to be used as you use your dog?

Dem. Tempt not so much the hatred of my spirit;

For I am sick, when I do look on thee.

Hel. And I am sick, when I look not on you.

Dem. You do impeach your modesty too much,

To leave the city, and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night,
And the ill counsel of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.

Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that.

It is not night, when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night:
Nor does this wood lack worlds of company;
For you, in my respect, are all the world:
Then how can it be said, I am alone,
When all the world is here to look on me?

Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,

And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be changed;
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger: Bootless speed!
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.

Dem. I will not stay thy questions; let me go:
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe

But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.

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The Plays of William Shakespeare, Band 1