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But, gentle friend, for love and curtesy
Lie further off; in human modefty,
Such separation, as, may well be said,
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend;
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy sweet 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 rest!
Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be prest!

[They seep Enter Puck. Puck. Through the forest have I gone, But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love: Night and silence! who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear; This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid, And here the maiden sleeping sound On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty foul ! she 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'st, let love forbid Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid; So awake, when I am gone: For I must now to Oberon.

[Exit.

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Hel.

STAN

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

Hel.

F 3

Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. 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 lesser is my grace. Happy is Hernia, wherefoe'er She lies; For the hath blessed, and attractive, eyes. How came her eyes so bright? not with salt tears; If so, my eyes are oftner wall’d than hers: No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; For beasts, that meet me, run away for fear. Therefore no marvel, though Demetrius Do (as a monster fly my presence thus. What wicked, and dissembling, glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's fphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander on the ground: Dead or aflecp? I see no blood, no wound: Lysander, if you live, good Sir, awake. Lyf. And run thro' fire I will, for thy sweet sake.

[Waking. Transparent Helen, nature here shews art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? Oh, how fit a word Is that vile name, to perish on my sword !

Hel. Do not say fo, Lysander, fay not so;
What tho' he love your Hermia? lord, what tho'?
Yet Hermia still 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 rcafon says, you are the worthier maid.
Things, growing, are not ripe until their feason;
So I, being young, 'till now ripe not to reason;
And, touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,

And

2

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 deserve this scorn?
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 insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do;
In such disdainful manner me to woo:
But fare you well. Perforce I must confefs,
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 sees not Hermia ; Hermia, fleep thou there; And never may'st thou come Lysander near; For as a furfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; Or as the heresies, that men do leave, Are hated most of those they did deceive; So thou, my surfeit and my herisy, Of all he hated, but the most of me! And all my pow'rs address your love and might To honour Helen, and to be her Knight! [Exit.

Her. Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast: Ay me, for pity, what a dream was here? Lysander, look, how I do quake with fear; Me-thought, a serpent eat my heart away; And you sat smiling at his cruel prey: Lysander! what remov’d? Lysander, lord ! What, out of hearing gone? no sound, no word? Alack, where are you? speak, and if you hear, 'Speak, of all loves ; (I swoon almost, with fear.) No? -then I well perceive, you are not nigh; O.r death, or you, I'll find immediately. [Exit.

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ACT III.

SCENE I.

The WOOD.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt and

Starveling.
The Queen of Fairies lying asleep.

Воттом. .
RE we all met?
A

Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, 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 say'st thou, bully Bottom ?

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. First Pyramus must draw a sword 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 seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for more betier assurance 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 shall be written in eight and fix.

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

Sonu't

you, not

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

Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourfelves; to bring in, God shield 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 must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect; ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat 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 such 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 Thisby meet by moon-light.

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

Bot. A kalendar, a kalendar! look in the almanack; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine..

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.

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

shine in at the casement. Quin. Ay, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say, he comes to diffigure, or to present, the person of moon-shine. 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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