Shakespeare's Principal Plays

Dem. Quick, come!

210 Her.

Lysander, whereto tends all this? [clinging to him.]

As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do.
Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rend our ancient love asunder, 215
To join with men in scorning your poor
friend?

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;

Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Her. I am amazed at your passionate words. 220
I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.
Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? And wherefore doth
Lysander

230

Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
But miserable most, to love unlov'd?
This you should pity rather than despise.
Her. I understand not what you mean by this.
Hel. Ay, do, perséver, counterfeit sad looks,

235

241

Make mouths upon me when I turn my back,
Wink each at other, hold the sweet jest up;
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But fare ye well; 'tis partly mine own fault,
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.
Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse, 245
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
Hel. O excellent!

Her.
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she en-

Lys. Away, you Ethiope!
Dem.

Seem to break loose.
follow,

No, no, sir;
Take on as you would

But yet come not. You are a tame man, go! Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! Vile thing, let loose,

260

Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! Her. Why are you grown SO rude? What change is this?

Sweet love,

250

Hel.

I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false that says I love thee not.

Fine, i' faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 285 No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear

310

I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He followed you; for love I followed him; But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too. And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple and how fond I am. Her. Why, get you gone; who is't that hinders you?

Hel. A foolish heart that I leave here behind. Her. What, with Lysander?

315

320

Lys. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.

Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.

Hel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!

She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce. 325

You are too officious 330 In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone; speak not of Helena; Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it.

Lys.

Now she holds me not. 335 Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. Dem. Follow! Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.

Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius. Her. You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you. Nay, go not back. I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray; My legs are longer though, to run away.

Hel.

340

[Exit.]

Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say.

Oberon and Puck [step forth].

[Exit.]

Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garments he hath on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise, 350 That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort, As this their jangling I esteem a sport. Obe. Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight;

Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the
east,

That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest.
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's

eye,

Steal me a while from mine own company.

Robin. Yet but three? Come one more;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad.

Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Enter Hermia.

Her. Never so weary, never so in woe,

435

Sleeps.

440

Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get
your weapons in your hand, and kill me a
red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle;
and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag.
Do not fret yourself too much in the action,
mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care
the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to
have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior.
Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed?
Mus. Ready.

Bedabbled with the dew and torn with Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good

briers,

I can no further crawl, no further go;

My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. 46 Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies down and sleeps.]

Robin. On the ground

Sleep sound.
I'll apply

To your eye,

Gentle lover, remedy.

Mus. What's your will? Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur; 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. 450 Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eyes.] When thou wak'st,

Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

[They sleep.]

Enter Robin Goodfellow.

good Robin.

Obe. [Advancing.] Welcome,
See'st thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity;
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; 55
And that same dew, which sometime on the
buds

Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,

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Robin. Fairy king, attend, and mark;
1 do hear the morning lark.
Then, my queen, in silence sad
Trip we after the night's shade.
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. Tita. Come, my lord, and in our flight
When I had at my pleasure taunted her
And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy

sent

100

105

Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. Sleepers lie still. Exeunt [Oberon, Titania, and Robin Goodfellow]. Horns winded [within].

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and all his train.

The. Go, one of you, find out the forester,
For now our observation is perform'd,
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds. 110
Uncouple in the western valley, let them go.
Despatch, I say, and find the forester.

[Exit an attendant.]

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion

115

Of hounds and echo in conjunction. Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta. Never did I hear Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near 126 Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,

So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalia. bulls;

126

the

May

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