MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DRE A M. ACT I. SCENE I. The Duke's palace in Athens. Enter Thefeus, Hippolita, Philoftrate, with attendants. THESE U s. NOW, fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, oh, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! fhe lingers my defires, Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. HIP. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; Four nights will quickly dream away the time: And then the moon like to a filver bow, New bent in heaven, shall behold the night THE. Go, Philoftrate, Stir up th' Athenian youth to merriments; [Exit. Phi. And won thy love, doing thee injuries : But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lyfander and Demetrius. EGE. Happy be Thefeus, our renowned duke: THE. Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee? EGE. Full of vexation, come I with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. "Stand forth," Demetrius. -My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. "Stand forth," Lyfander. And, my gracious duke, This man hath witch'd the bofom of my child; THE. What fay you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid, To you your father fhould be as a god, One, that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one, To whom you are but as a form in wax By him imprinted; and within his pow'r THE. In himself he is; But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, HER. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes. In fuch a prefence here, to plead my thoughts: THE. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair, Hermia, question your defires: For aye to be in fhady cloister mew'd, To live a barren fifter all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold, fruitless moon? But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that, which withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives and dies, in single blessedness. HER. So will I grow, fo live, fo die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, to whofe unwish'd yoak My foul consents not to give sovʼreignty. THE. Take time to pause: and by the next new moon Upon that day either prepare to die, For aye, aufterity and fingle life. DEM. Relent, fweet Hermia; and, Lyfander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; EGE. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love; Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Why should not I then prosecute my right? Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena; Upon this fpotted and inconftant man. THE. I must confefs, that I have heard so much, My mind did lofe it. But, Demetrius, come; -Come, my Hippolita; what chear, my love ? I must employ you in fome business SCENE II. Manent Lyfander and Hermia. [Exeunt. Lys. How now, my love? why is your cheek fo pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? HER. Belike, for want of rain; which I could well Beteem them from the tempeft of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me, for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or hiftory, 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- |