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But, gentle friend, for love and curtefy
Lie further off; in human modefty,
Such feparation, as, may well be faid,
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be diftant; and good night, sweet 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 wish the wifher's eyes be preft!
[They fleep.

Enter Puck.

Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found 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 mafter said,
Despised the Athenian maid,

And here the maiden fleeping found
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty foul! fhe durft not lie
Near to this lack-love kill-curtesy.
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.

Hel.

SCENE

[Exit.

VII.

Enter Demetrius and Helená running.

STA

TAY, tho' thou kill me. fweet Demetrius! Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.

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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 chase;

The more my prayer, the leffer is my grace.

Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er fhe lies;

For the hath bleffed, and attractive, eyes.

How came her eyes fo bright? not with falt tears;
If fo, my eyes are oftner wafh'd than hers:
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beafts, that meet me, run away for fear.
Therefore no marvel, though Demetrius
Do (as a monfter) fly my prefence 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 sweet fake.

[Waking.

Transparent 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 perish on my sword!

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander, fay not fo; What tho' he love your Hermia? Íord, 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 reason fway'd;
And reafon fays, you are the worthier maid.
Things, growing, are not ripe until their season;
So I, being young, 'till now ripe not to reason;
And, touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marihal to my will,

And

And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's ftories, written in love's richest book.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mock'ry born? When at your hands did I deserve 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 difdainful manner me to woo:

But fare

you well. Perforce I must confess,

I thought you lord of more true gentleness:
Oh, that a lady, of one man refus'd,

Should of another therefore be abus'd!

[Exit.

Lyf. She fees not Hermia; Hermia, fleep thou there;

And never may'ft thou come Lyfander near;
For as a furfeit of the sweetest things

The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings;
Or as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
So thou, my furfeit and my herify,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!

And all my pow'rs addrefs your love and might
To honour Helen, and to be her Knight!

[Exit.
Her. Help me, Lyfander, help me! do thy best
To pluck this crawling ferpent from my breaft:
Ay me, for pity, what a dream was here?
Lyfander, look, how I do quake with fear;
Me-thought, a ferpent eat my heart away;
And you fat fmiling at his cruel prey:
Lyfander! what remov'd? Lyfander, lord!
What, out of hearing gone? no found, no word?
Alack, where are you? fpeak, and if you hear,
Speak, of all loves; (I fwoon almoft, with fear.)
No?then I well perceive, you are not nigh;
Or death, or you, I'll find immediately. [Exit.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The W O 0 D.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt and Starveling.

The Queen of Fairies lying afleep.

ARE we all met?

Воттом.

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot fhall be our flage, this hawthorn-brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

Bot. Peter Quince

Quin. What fay'ft thou, bully Bottom?

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. Firft Pyramus must draw a fword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? Snowt. By'rlaken, a parlous fear.

Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.

Bot. Not a whit, I have a device to make all well; write me a prologue, and let the prologue feem to fay, we will do no harm with our fwords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for more better affurance tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver; this will put them out of

fear.

Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue, and it fhall be written in eight and fix.

Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.

Sonut

Snowt. Will not the ladies be afraid of the lion? Star. I fear it, I promise you.

Bot. Masters, you ought to confider with yourfelves; to bring in, God fhield us, a lion among ladies, is a moft dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to it.

Snowt. Therefore another prologue must tell, he is not a lion. Bot. Nay you muft name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself muft fpeak through, faying thus, or to the fame defect; ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish you, or I would requeft you, or I would intreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours; if you think, I come here as a lion, it were pity of my life; no, I am no fuch thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.

Quin. Well, it shall be fo; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thiby meet by moon-light.

Snug. Doth the moon fhine that night we play our play?

Bot. A kalendar, a kalendar! look in the almanack; find out moon-fhine, find out moon-fhine. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

Bot. Why then may you leave a cafement of the great chamber-window, where we play, open; and the moon may fhine in at the casement.

Quin. Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and fay, he comes to diffigure, or to prefent, the perfon of moon-fhine. Then there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber, for Pyramus and Thisby (says the story) did talk through the chink of a wall. F 5

Snug.

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