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Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky;
So at his fight, away his fellows Aly;
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, loft with their fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong.
For briars and thorns at their apparel snatch,
Some, sleeves; fome, hats; from yielders all things catcla.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And lest sweet Pyramus translated there :
When in that moment (lo it came to pass)
Titania wak’d, and straitway lov'd an ass.
OB. This falls out better than I could devile.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
Puck. I took him feeping; that is finish'd too;
And the Athenian woman by his side,
That when he wakes, of force she must be ey'd,
Enter Demetrius and Hermia.
OB. Stand close, this is the fame Athenian.
Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man.
DEM. O, why rebuke you him that loves you fo ?
Lay breath o bitter on your bitter foe.
Hem. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worfe;
For thou, I fear, haft giv'n me cause to curse :
If thou haft sain Lylander in his fleep,
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too,
The sun was not so true 'unto the day,
As he to me. Would he have stol'n away
From sleeping Hermia ? I'll believe as soon,
This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon
May through the center creep, and fo displease
Her brother's noon-tide with th' Antipodes.
It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look, so dread, fo grim.
Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I,
Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty :
the murderer look as bright, and clear, As yonder Venus in her glimm’ring sphere.
Hel. What's this to my Lysander ? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ?
Dem. I'd rather give his carcass to my hounds.
Her. Out, dog ; out, cur ! thou driv'st me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou Nain him then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men.
O! once tell true and even for my fake,
Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake!
And hast thou kill'd him feeping ? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder do so much?
An adder did it, for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung
Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood :
I am not guilty of Lyfander's blood,
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
DEM. And if I could, what should I get
Her. A privilege never to see me more;
And from thy hated presençe part I fo :
See me no more, whether he's dead or no.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein,
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain :
So sorrow's heavinefs doth heavier grow,
For debt, that bankrupt fleep doth forrow owe;
Which now in some flight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some ay. [Lies down.
OB. What hast thou done ? thou haft mistaken quité,
And laid thy fove-juice on fome true love's fight:
Of thy misprifion must perforce ensue
Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
Puck. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
OB. About the wood go fwifter than the wind,
And Helena, of Athens, fee, thou find.
All fancy-frek she is, and pale of cheer :
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear;
By some illusion, fee, thou bring her here;
I'll charm his eyes, againft she doth appear.
PUCK. I go, I go ; luck, how I go;
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.
[Exit. OB. Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye ! When his love he doth efpy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st, if the be by, Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Puck. Foca. Captain of our fairy-band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee,
Shall we their fond pageant fee?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
OB. Stand afide 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 befal prepost'rously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look, when I vow I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears:
How can things in me feem fcorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true ?
Hel. You do advance your eunning more and more;
When truth kills truth, O devilish, holy fray !
These vows are Hermia's, will you give her o'er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh :
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.
Lys. I had no judgment when to her I swore
Hel. Nor none in my mind, now you give her o'er.
Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you,
DEM. (awaking:) O Helen, goddess, pymph, perfect,
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ?
Crystal is muddy; O how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kifling cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand. O let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss.
Hel. O fpight, О hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me, for your merriment;
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
you not hate me, as I know you do, But
you must join in souls to mock me too ? If you are men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so: To vow and swear, and super-praise my parts ; When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts You both are rivals, and love Hermia, And now both rivals to mock Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision! none of nobler sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not fo; For you love Hermia; this, you know, I know. And here with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part ; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love, and will do to my
death. Hel: Never did mockers waste more idle breath.