Your eyes are lode-ftars; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to fhepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when haw-thorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favour fo!
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear fhould catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue fhould catch your tongue's fweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The reft I'll give to be to you translated.

O,

teach me how you look; and with what art You fway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me ftill.

Hel. Oh, that your frowns would teach my smiles fuch fkill!

Her. I give him curfes, yet he gives me love.

Hel. Oh, that my prayers could fuch affection move!
Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.

Hel. None but your beauty: 'Would that fault were
mine!

Her. Take comfort; he no more fhall fee my face;
Lyfander and myself will fly this place.-
Before the time I did Lyfander fee,
Seem'd Athens as a paradife to me:

O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

Lyf. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her filver vifage in the watry glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass
(A time that lovers' flights doth ftill conceal),
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to fteal.

"Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrofe-beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bofoms of their counfels fwell'd;
There my Lyfander and myself shall meet:
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes,
To feek new friends and ftrange companions.
Farewell, fweet playfellow: pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!-

Keep

Keep word, Lyfander: we must ftarve our fight
From lover's food, till morrow deep midnight.

Lyf. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu:
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!

[Exit HERM.

[Exit Lys,

Hel. How happy fome, o'er otherfome can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as fhe.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not fo;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.

Things bafe and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can tranfpofe to form and dignity.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment tafte;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy hafte:
And therefore is love faid to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
As waggifh boys themselves in game forfwear,
So the boy love is perjur'd every where:
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail fome heat from Hermia felt,
So he diffolv'd, and fhowers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expence:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his fight thither and back again.

SCENE II. A Cottage.

[Exit.

Enter QUINCE the Carpenter, SNUG the Joiner, BOTTOM the Weaver, FLUTE the Bellows-Mender, SNOUT the Tinker, and STARVELING the Taylor.

Quin. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were beft to call them generally, man by man, according to the fcrip.

Quin. Here is the fcrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our inter

lude

lude before the duke and dutchefs, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot. Firft, good Peter Quince, fay what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and fo grow to a point.

Quin. Marry our play is-The moft lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, I affure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the fcrowl: Mafters, fpread yourselves.

:

Quin. Anfwer as I call you.-Nick Bottom the weaver. Bot. Ready Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are fet down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin. A lover that kills himself moft gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I willmove ftorms, I will condole in fome meafure. To the reft:-Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "And fhivering fhocks, "Shall break the locks

"Of prifon-gates;

"And Phibbus' car

"Shall fhine from far,

«And make and mar

"The foolish fates."

This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the players.-This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.

Flu. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You must take Thisby on you.

Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?

Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.

Quin. That's all one; you fhall play it in a mask, and you may speak as fmall as you will.

Bot

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monftrous little voice ;-Thifne, Thifne,-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear!

Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thilby.

Bot. Well, proceed.

Quin. Robert Starveling, the taylor,

Star. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. -Tom Snout, the tinker.

Snou. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself Thisby's father; -Snug, the joiner, you the lion's part:-and, I hope, there is a play fitted.

Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am flow of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but

roaring.

Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke fay, Let him roar again, let him roar again.

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the dutchefs and the ladies, that they would fhriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us every mother's fon.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice fo, that I will roar you as gently as any fucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale,

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus is a fweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall fee in a summer's day; a moft lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?

Quin. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your ftraw-coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

7

Quin.

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd.-But, masters, here are your parts and I am to entreat you, request you, and defire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obfcenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet.

Bot. Enough; hold, or cut bow-ftrings.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Wood.

[Exeunt.

Enter a Fairy at one door, and PUCK (or ROBIN-GOOD

FELLOW) at another.

Puck.

How now, fpirit! whither wander you?

Fai. Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moones fphere:
And I ferve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowflips tall her penfioners be;
In their gold coats spots you fee;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their favours:
I must go feek fome dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowflip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of fpirits, I'll be gone;
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night;
Take heed, the queen come not within his fight.

For