But who is here? Lyfander on the ground:
Dead or afleep? I fee no blood, no wound:
Lyfander, if you live, good Sir, awake.

Ly. And run thro' fire I will, for thy fweet fake.
[Waking

Tranfparent 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 perifh on my fword!
Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander, fay not fo;
What tho' he love your Hermia? Lord, 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 fpent;
Not Hermia, but Helena I love :

Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reafon fway'd;
And reafon fays, you are the worthier maid.
Things, growing, are not ripe until their feafon;
So I, being young, 'till now ripe not to reafon ;
And, touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marshal to my will,

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 deferve this fcorn:
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deferve a fweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my infufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong; good footh, you
In fuch difdainful 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!

do;

[Exit

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

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

The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings;.

E 4

Or as the herefes, that men do leave,
Are hated molt of thofe they did deceive;
So thou, my furfeit and my heresy,
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 beft
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.

SCENE, the Wood.

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

The Qeeen of Fairies lying asleep..

RE we all met?

Воттом.

Ain Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearfal. This green plot fhall be our ftage, this hauthorn-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?

and

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus Thify, that will never pleafe. First, Pyramus muft

draw

draw a fword to kill himself, which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Snout. 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 Twords, 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 fuch 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.

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

Bot. Mafters, you ought to confider with yourselves 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.

Snout. Therefore another prologue muft tell, he is.

not a lion.

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be feen 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 request you, or I would intreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours; if you think, I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life; no, I am nofuch thing, I am a man as other men are; and there, indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly ho is Snug the joiner.

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

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.

F. 5

Quir

Or as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated molt of thofe they did deceive;
So thou, my furfeit and my heresy,

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 beft
To pluck this crawling ferpent from my breast:
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.

SCENE, the Wood.

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

The Qeeen of Fairies lying asleep..

RE we all met?

Воттом.

A Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearfal. This green plot fhall be our ftage, this hauthorn-brake our tyring houfe, 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 Thify, that will never pleafe. First, Pyramus mut

draw

draw a fword to kill himself, which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?

Snout. 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 Twords, 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 fuch 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.

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

Bot. Mafters, 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.

Snout. Therefore another prologue muft tell, he is

not a lion.

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his facer must be feen through the lion's neck; and he himself muft fpeak through, faying thus, or to the fame defe&t; Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours; if you think, I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life; no, I am nofuch thing, I am a man as other men are; and there, indeed, let him name his name, and tell them plainly ho is Snug the joiner.

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

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-shine.