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Enter Puck.

Puck. Ay, there it is.

Ob. I pray thee, give it me;

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,
Where oxflip and the nodding violet grows,
'Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With fweet musk-rofes, and with eglantine.
There fleeps Titania, fome time of the night,
Lull'd in these flow'rs, 'from dances and delight;
And there the fnake throws her enammel'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:

There with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantafies.

Take thou fome of it, and feek through this grove;
A fweet Athenian lady is in love

With a difdainful youth; anoint his eyes,
But do it when the next thing he efpies
May be the lady. Thou fhalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with fome care, that he may prove
More fond of her, than fhe upon his love;
And look you meet me ere the first cock crow.
Puck. Fear not, my lord, your fervant fhall do fo.
[Exeunt.

SCENE

V.

Enter Queen of fairies, with her Train.

Queen. Come, now a roundel, and a Fairy fong:
Then, "fore the third part of a minute, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rofe buds,
Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats: and fome keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders

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At our queint fports. Come, fing` me now afleep, Then to your offices, and let me rest.

Fairies fing.

You spotted fnakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not feen,
Newts and blind worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,

Sing in your fweet lullaby,

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

Never harm, nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh,

So good night with lullaby.

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Enter Oberon, and anoints her eye-lids.

Ob. What thou feeft when thou doft wake,

Do it for thy true love take,

Love and languifh for his fake;

Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye what shall

appear,
When thou wak'ft, it is thy dear
Wake when fome vile thing is near.

8 At our queint fpirits. Sing

;

[Exit Oberon.

SCENE

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Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandring in the wood; And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way: We'll reft us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day.

Her. Be't fo, Lyfander; find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will reft my head.

Lyf. One turf fhall ferve as pillow for us both,
One heart, one bed, two bofoms, and one troth.
Her. Nay, good Lyfander, for my fake, my dear,
Lye further off yet, do not lye fo near.

Lyf. O take the fenfe, fweet, 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 can you make of it:
Two bofoms interchained with an oath,
So then two bofoms, and a fingle troth:
Then by your fide no bed-room me deny;
For lying fo, Hermia, I do not lye.

Her. Lyfander riddles very prettily;
Now much befhrew my manners, and my pride,
If Hermia meant to fay, Lyfander ly'd!
But, gentle friend, for love and courtefie
Lye further off, in human modesty ;
Such feparation as may well be faid
Becomes a virtuous batchelor and a maid;
So far be diftant, and good night, fweet friend,
Thy love ne'er alter 'till thy fweet life end!
Lys. Amen, amen to that fair prayer, say I,
And then end life when I end loyalty:
Here is my bed; fleep give thee all his reft!

Her. With half that with the wisher's eyes be prest!

[They fleep.

Enter

Enter Puck.

Puck. Through the foreft have I gone,
But Athenian find I none,

On whofe eyes I might approve
This flower's force in ftirring love:
Night and filence! who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear;
This is he, my master said,
Defpifed the Athenian maid:
And here the maiden fleeping found
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty foul! fhe durft not lye
9 'Near to this kill-courtefie.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw

All the pow'r this charm doth owe:
When thou wak'ft, let love forbid
Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid:
So awake when I am gone,

For I muft now to Oberon.

SCENE

[Exit.

VII.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, tho' thou kill me, fweet Demetrius!
Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not fo.
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 leffer is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er fhe lyes;
For the hath bleffed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes fo bright; not with falt tears;
If fo my eyes are oftner wash'd than hers:
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beafts that meet me run away for fear,

9 Near to this lack-love, this kill-courtefie.

Therefore

...old edit. Theob, emend,

Therefore no marvel, tho' Demetrius
Dó (as a monster) fly my presence thus,
What wicked and diffembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's fphery eyne?
But who is here? Lyfander on the ground:
Dead or afleep? I fee no blood, no wound:
Lyfander, if you live, good Sir, awake,

Lyf. And run thro' fire I will for thy fweet fake.
[Waking.

Tranfparent Helen, nature here fhews art,
That through thy bofom makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word
Is that vile name, to perifh on my fword?

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander, fay not fo;
What tho' he love your Hermia? lord, what tho'?
Yet Hermia ftill loves you; then be content.

Lyf. 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 reafon fway'd,
And reafon fays you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their feafon;
So I being young 'till now not ripe to reafon,
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.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mock'ry born?
When at your hands did I deferve this fcorn?
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 infufficiency?

Good troth you do me wrong, good footh you do,
In fuch disdainful manner me to woo:

But fare you well. Perforce I must confess,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness:
VOL. I.

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