Hel. I will not truft you, I;

Nor longer ftay in your curft company.

Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer, though, to run away.

Ob. THIS

[Exeunt: Hermia pursuing Helena.

HIS is thy negligence: ftill thou mistak'ft, Or elfe committ'ft thy knaveries willingly. Puck. Believe me, King of fhadows, I miftook. Did not you tell me, I fhould know the man By the Athenian garments he had on? And fo far blameless proves my enterprize, That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it did so sort, As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

Ob. Thou feeft, thefe lovers feek a place to fight; Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;

The ftarry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fogs, as black as Acheron;
And lead thefe tefty rivals so aftray,
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lyfander, fometime, frame thy tongue,
Then ftir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And fometime rail thou, like Demetrius;

And from each other, look, thou lead them thus;
'Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting fleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep;
Then crush this herb into Lyfander's eye,
Whofe liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with its might;
And make his eye-balls roll with wonted fight.
When they next wake, all this derifion
Shall feem a dream, and fruitlefs vifion;
And back to Athens fhall the lovers wend

With league, whose date 'till death fhall never end.

VOL. I.

G

Whiles

Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my Queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release

From monfter's view, and all things fhall be peace.
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with hafte,
For night's fwift dragons cut the clouds full faft,
And yonder fhines Aurora's harbinger;

At whofe approach, ghofts wandring here and there
Troop home to church-yards; damned fpirits all,
That in crofs-ways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear left day should look their shames
They wilfully exile themfelves from light;
And must for aye confort with black-brow'd night.
Ob. But we are spirits of another sort;

upon,

I with the morning-light have oft made fport;
And, like a forefter, the groves may tread,
Ev'n 'till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with far-bleffing beams,
Turns into yellow gold his falt-green ftreams.
But, notwithstanding, hafte; make no delay;
We may effect this bufinefs yet ere day. [Exit Ob.
Puck. Up and down, up and down,

I will lead them up and down:

I am fear'd in field and town.

Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.

Enter Lyfander.

Lyf. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? fpeak thou

now.

Puck. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?

Lyf. I will be with thee straight.

Puck. Follow me then.

To plainer ground. [Lyf. goes out, as following Dem.

Enter

Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lyfander, fpeak again;

Thou run-away, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak in fome bufh: where doft thou hide thy head?
Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,

And wilt not come? come, recreant; come, thou child,
I'll whip thee with a rod; he is defil'd,

That draws a fword on thee.

Dem. Yea, art thou there?

Puck. Follow my voice, we'll try no manhood here.

Lyfander comes back.

Exeunt.

Lyf. He goes before me, and ftill dares me on;
When I come where he calls me, then he's gone.
The villain is much lighter-heel'd, than I:
I follow'd faft, but fafter he did fly;
That fall'n am I in dark uneven way,
And here will reft me. Come, thou gentle day:

[Lies down. For if but once thou fhew me thy gray light, I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this fpite.

Enter Puck and Demetrius.

Puck. Ho, ho, ho, coward, why com'ft thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'ft: for well I wot, Thou runn'ft before me, fhifting every place; And dar'ft not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou?

Puck. Come thou hither, I am here.

Dem. Nay, then thou mock'ft me; thou shalt buy this dear,

If ever I thy face by day-light fee.

Now, go thy way; faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.
By day's approach look to be visited.

G 2

Lies down.

SCENE

Hel.

Weary night, O long and tedious night, Abaie thy hours; fhine, comforts, from the Eaft;

That I may back to Athens by day-light,

From thefe, that my poor company deteft; And fleep, that fometimes fhuts up forrow's eye, Steal me a while from mine own company. [Sleeps. Puck. Yet but three? come one more,

Two of both kinds make up four.

Here she comes, curft and fad :

Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Enter Hermia.

Her. Never fo weary, never fo in woe,

Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briars,

I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my

Here will I reft me, 'till the break of day.

defires:

Heav'ns fhield Lyfander, if they mean a fray ![Lies down.
Puck. On the ground
Sleep found,

I'll apply

To your eye,

Gentle lover, remedy.

[Squeezing the juice on Lyfander's eye.

When thou wak'ft,

Thou tak ft

True delight

In the fight

Of thy former lady's eye;

And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,

In your waking fhall be fhown.

Jack fhall have Jill, naught fhall go ill,

}

The man fhall have his mare again, and all be well.

ACT IV. SCENE. I.

Continued, The WOOD,

Enter Queen of Fairies, Bottom, Fairies attending, and the King behind them.

QUEEN.

OME, fit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

And stick musk-rofes in thy fleek, smooth'd head;
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Bot. Where's Peafebloffom?

Peafe. Ready.

Bot. Scratch my head, Peafeblossom. Where's monfieur Cobweb?

Cob. Ready.

Bot. Monfieur Cobweb, good monfieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipt humble-bee on the top of a thiftle; and, good monfieur, bring me the honey-bag.. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monfieur; and, good monsieur, have a care, the honey-bag break not; I fhould be loth to have you over-flown with a honey-bag, fignior. Where's monfieur Mustardfeed?

Muft. Ready.

*

Bot. Give me thy neafe, monfieur Mustardfeed; pray you, leave your curtefy, good monfieur. Muft. What's your will?

Bol. Nothing, good monfieur, but to help Cavalero Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monfieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face. And I am fuch a tender afs, if my hair doth but tickle me, I must scratch.

*Ncafe, (Yorkshire) for Fift.

G 3

Mr. Pope.

Queen.