« السابقةمتابعة »
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that, and yet to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days. The more the pity that some honest neighbors will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek* upon occasion.
Tit. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Bot. Not so neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
Tit. Out of this wood do not desire to go:
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate;
The summer still doth tend upon my state,
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
Moth! and Mustard-seed!
Enter four Fairies.
1st Fai. Ready.
Where shall we go?
1st Fai. Hail, mortal!
2nd Fai. Hail!
3rd Fai. Hail!
4th Fai. Hail!
Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I beseech your worship's
Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.
Your name, honest gentle
Bot. I pray you commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peas-Blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Bot. Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well. That same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many gentlemen of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed.
OBERON enters unseen.
Tit. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb?
Bot. Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get up your weapons in your hands, and kill me a red-hipped humble bee on the top of a thistle; and, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much with the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Monsieur Mustard-seed?
Bot. Give me your neif,* Monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur.
Must. What's your will?
Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavaliero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me I must scratch.
Tit. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
Bot. I have a reasonable ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones
Tit. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
Bot. Truly a peck of provender. I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Tit I have a venturous fairy, that shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas:-but, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Tit. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
Ober. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight?
(Touching her eyes with a herb.)
See, as thou were wont to see;
* But as the fierce vexation of a dream.―This fine stray verse comes looking in among the rest like a stern face through flowers.
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Ober. There lies your love.
Ober. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.—
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tit. Music! ho! music! such as charmeth sleep.
Ober. Sound music! [still music.] Come, my queen, take hand
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
And will to-morrow midnight, solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:
Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Ober. Then, my queen, in silence sad,*
We the globe can compass soon,
Tit. Come, my lord, and in our flight
[Exeunt. [Horns sound within
5 Come from the farthest steep of India.
Shakspeare understood the charm of remoteness in poetry, as le did everything else. Oberon has been dancing on the sunny steeps looking towards Cathay, where the
Their cany waggons light.
* Sad.-Grave, serious (not melancholy).
THE BRIDAL HOUSE BLESSED BY THE FAIRIES.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,6
All with weary task fordone.
Whilst the scritch-owl scritching loud,
In remembrance of a shroud.
That the graves all gaping wide,
In the churchway paths to glide:
By the triple Hecate's team,
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train.
Ober. Through this house give glimmering light,
Every elf and fairy sprite,
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty after me
Sing and dance it trippingly.
Tita. First rehearse this song by rote:
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
SONG AND DANCE
Ober. Now, until the break of day,