A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Enter Theseus , Hippolyta , and Philostrate , with others .

Now , fair Hippolyta , our nuptial hour
Draws on apace . Four happy days bring in
Another moon . But , O , methinks how slow
This old moon wanes ! She lingers my desires
Like to a stepdame or a dowager
Long withering out a young man’s revenue .

Four days will quickly steep themselves in night ;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time ;
And then the moon , like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven , shall behold the night
Of our solemnities .

Go , Philostrate ,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments .
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth .
Turn melancholy forth to funerals ;
The pale companion is not for our pomp .
Hippolyta , I wooed thee with my sword
And won thy love doing thee injuries ,
But I will wed thee in another key ,
With pomp , with triumph , and with reveling .

Philostrate exits .

Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia , and Lysander and Demetrius .

Happy be Theseus , our renownèd duke !

Thanks , good Egeus . What’s the news with thee ?

Full of vexation come I , with complaint
Against my child , my daughter Hermia . —
Stand forth , Demetrius . — My noble lord ,
This man hath my consent to marry her . —
Stand forth , Lysander . — And , my gracious duke ,
This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child . —
Thou , thou , Lysander , thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child .
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung
With feigning voice verses of feigning love
And stol’n the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair , rings , gauds , conceits ,
Knacks , trifles , nosegays , sweetmeats — messengers
Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth .
With cunning hast thou filched my daughter’s heart ,
Turned her obedience ( which is due to me )
To stubborn harshness . — And , my gracious duke ,
Be it so she will not here before your Grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius ,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens :
As she is mine , I may dispose of her ,
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death , according to our law
Immediately provided in that case .

What say you , Hermia ? Be advised , fair maid .
To you , your father should be as a god ,
One that composed your beauties , yea , and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted , and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it .
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman .

So is Lysander .

In himself he is ,
But in this kind , wanting your father’s voice ,
The other must be held the worthier .

I would my father looked but with my eyes .

Rather your eyes must with his judgment look .

I do entreat your Grace to pardon me .
I know not by what power I am made bold ,
Nor how it may concern my modesty
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts ;
But I beseech your Grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case
If I refuse to wed Demetrius .

Either to die the death or to abjure
Forever the society of men .
Therefore , fair Hermia , question your desires ,
Know of your youth , examine well your blood ,
Whether ( if you yield not to your father’s choice )
You can endure the livery of a nun ,
For aye to be in shady cloister mewed ,
To live a barren sister all your life ,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon .
Thrice-blessèd they that master so their blood
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ,
But earthlier happy is the rose distilled
Than that which , withering on the virgin thorn ,
Grows , lives , and dies in single blessedness .

So will I grow , so live , so die , my lord ,
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
Unto his Lordship whose unwishèd yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty .

Take time to pause , and by the next new moon
( The sealing day betwixt my love and me
For everlasting bond of fellowship ) ,
Upon that day either prepare to die
For disobedience to your father’s will ,
Or else to wed Demetrius , as he would ,
Or on Diana’s altar to protest
For aye austerity and single life .

Relent , sweet Hermia , and , Lysander , yield
Thy crazèd title to my certain right .

You have her father’s love , Demetrius .
Let me have Hermia’s . Do you marry him .

Scornful Lysander , true , he hath my love ;
And what is mine my love shall render him .
And she is mine , and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius .

I am , my lord , as well derived as he ,
As well possessed . My love is more than his ;
My fortunes every way as fairly ranked
( If not with vantage ) as Demetrius’ ;
And ( which is more than all these boasts can be )
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia .
Why should not I then prosecute my right ?
Demetrius , I’ll avouch it to his head ,
Made love to Nedar’s daughter , Helena ,
And won her soul ; and she , sweet lady , dotes ,
Devoutly dotes , dotes in idolatry ,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man .

, to Theseus

I must confess that I have heard so much ,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof ;
But , being overfull of self-affairs ,
My mind did lose it . — But , Demetrius , come ,
And come , Egeus ; you shall go with me .
I have some private schooling for you both . —
For you , fair Hermia , look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father’s will ,
Or else the law of Athens yields you up
( Which by no means we may extenuate )
To death or to a vow of single life . —
Come , my Hippolyta . What cheer , my love ? —
Demetrius and Egeus , go along .
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves .

With duty and desire we follow you .

All but Hermia and Lysander exit .

How now , my love ? Why is your cheek so pale ?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast ?

Belike for want of rain , which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes .

Ay me ! For aught that I could ever read ,
Could ever hear by tale or history ,
The course of true love never did run smooth .
But either it was different in blood —

O cross ! Too high to be enthralled to low .

Or else misgraffèd in respect of years —

O spite ! Too old to be engaged to young .

Or else it stood upon the choice of friends —

O hell , to choose love by another’s eyes !

Or , if there were a sympathy in choice ,
War , death , or sickness did lay siege to it ,
Making it momentany as a sound ,
Swift as a shadow , short as any dream ,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night ,
That , in a spleen , unfolds both heaven and Earth ,
And , ere a man hath power to say “ Behold ! ”
The jaws of darkness do devour it up .
So quick bright things come to confusion .

If then true lovers have been ever crossed ,
It stands as an edict in destiny .
Then let us teach our trial patience
Because it is a customary cross ,
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs ,
Wishes and tears , poor fancy’s followers .

A good persuasion . Therefore , hear me , Hermia :
I have a widow aunt , a dowager
Of great revenue , and she hath no child .
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ,
And she respects me as her only son .
There , gentle Hermia , may I marry thee ;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us . If thou lovest me , then
Steal forth thy father’s house tomorrow night ,
And in the wood a league without the town
( Where I did meet thee once with Helena
To do observance to a morn of May ) ,
There will I stay for thee .

My good Lysander ,
I swear to thee by Cupid’s strongest bow ,
By his best arrow with the golden head ,
By the simplicity of Venus’ doves ,
By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves ,
And by that fire which burned the Carthage queen
When the false Trojan under sail was seen ,
By all the vows that ever men have broke
( In number more than ever women spoke ) ,
In that same place thou hast appointed me ,
Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee .

Keep promise , love . Look , here comes Helena .

Enter Helena .

Godspeed , fair Helena . Whither away ?

Call you me “ fair ” ? That “ fair ” again unsay .
Demetrius loves your fair . O happy fair !
Your eyes are lodestars and your tongue’s sweet air
More tunable than lark to shepherd’s ear
When wheat is green , when hawthorn buds appear .
Sickness is catching . O , were favor so !
Yours would I catch , fair Hermia , ere I go .
My ear should catch your voice , my eye your eye ;
My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody .
Were the world mine , Demetrius being bated ,
The rest I’d give to be to you translated .
O , teach me how you look and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart !

I frown upon him , yet he loves me still .

O , that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill !

I give him curses , yet he gives me love .

O , that my prayers could such affection move !

The more I hate , the more he follows me .

The more I love , the more he hateth me .

His folly , Helena , is no fault of mine .

None but your beauty . Would that fault were mine !

Take comfort : he no more shall see my face .
Lysander and myself will fly this place .
Before the time I did Lysander see
Seemed Athens as a paradise to me .
O , then , what graces in my love do dwell
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell !

Helen , to you our minds we will unfold .
Tomorrow night when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat’ry glass ,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass
( A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal ) ,
Through Athens’ gates have we devised to steal .

And in the wood where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie ,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet ,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes
To seek new friends and stranger companies .
Farewell , sweet playfellow . Pray thou for us ,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius . —
Keep word , Lysander . We must starve our sight
From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight .

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

Hermia exits .

Lysander exits .

How happy some o’er other some can be !
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she .
But what of that ? Demetrius thinks not so .
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 base and vile , holding no quantity ,
Love can transpose to form and dignity .
Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind ;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind .
Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgment taste .
Wings , and no eyes , figure unheedy haste .
And therefore is Love said to be a child
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled .
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear ,
So the boy Love is perjured everywhere .
For , ere Demetrius looked on Hermia’s eyne ,
He hailed down oaths that he was only mine ;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt ,
So he dissolved , and show’rs of oaths did melt .
I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight .
Then to the wood will he tomorrow night
Pursue her . And , for this intelligence
If I have thanks , it is a dear expense .
But herein mean I to enrich my pain ,
To have his sight thither and back again .

She exits .

Enter Quince the carpenter , and Snug the joiner , and Bottom the weaver , and Flute the bellows-mender , and Snout the tinker , and Starveling the tailor .

Is all our company here ?

You were best to call them generally , man by
man , according to the scrip .

Here is the scroll of every man’s name which
is thought fit , through all Athens , to play in our
interlude before the Duke and the Duchess on his
wedding day at night .

First , good Peter Quince , say what the play
treats on , then read the names of the actors , and so
grow to a point .

Marry , our play is “ The most lamentable
comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and
Thisbe . ”

A very good piece of work , I assure you , and a
merry . Now , good Peter Quince , call forth your
actors by the scroll . Masters , spread yourselves .

Answer as I call you . Nick Bottom , the weaver .

Ready . Name what part I am for , and
proceed .

You , Nick Bottom , are set down for Pyramus .

What is Pyramus — a lover or a tyrant ?

A lover that kills himself most gallant for love .

The raging rocks
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates .
And Phibbus’ car
Shall shine from far
And make and mar
The foolish Fates .
That will ask some tears in the true performing
of it . If I do it , let the audience look to their
eyes . I will move storms ; I will condole in some
measure . To the rest . — Yet my chief humor is for a
tyrant . I could play Ercles rarely , or a part to tear a
cat in , to make all split :
This was lofty . Now name the rest of the players .
This is Ercles’ vein , a tyrant’s vein . A lover is more
condoling .

Francis Flute , the bellows-mender .

Here , Peter Quince .

Flute , you must take Thisbe on you .

What is Thisbe — a wand’ring knight ?

It is the lady that Pyramus must love .

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

That’s all one . You shall play it in a mask , and
you may speak as small as you will .

An I may hide my face , let me play Thisbe too .
I’ll speak in a monstrous little voice : “ Thisne ,
Thisne ! ” — “ Ah Pyramus , my lover dear ! Thy Thisbe
dear and lady dear ! ”

No , no , you must play Pyramus — and , Flute ,
you Thisbe .

Well , proceed .

Robin Starveling , the tailor .

Here , Peter Quince .

Robin Starveling , you must play Thisbe’s
mother . — Tom Snout , the tinker .

Here , Peter Quince .

You , Pyramus’ father . — Myself , Thisbe’s
father . — Snug the joiner , you the lion’s part . —
And I hope here is a play fitted .

Have you the lion’s part written ? Pray you , if it
be , give it me , for I am slow of study .

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

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 say “ Let him roar again . Let
him roar again ! ”

An you should do it too terribly , you would
fright the Duchess and the ladies that they would
shriek , and that were enough to hang us all .

That would hang us , every mother’s son .

I grant you , friends , if 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 so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking
dove . I will roar you an ’twere any nightingale .

You can play no part but Pyramus , for Pyramus
is a sweet-faced man , a proper man as one
shall see in a summer’s day , a most lovely gentlemanlike
man . Therefore you must needs play
Pyramus .

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

Why , what you will .

I will discharge it in either your straw-color
beard , your orange-tawny beard , your purple-in-grain
beard , or your French-crown-color beard ,
your perfit yellow .

Some of your French crowns have no hair at
all , and then you will play barefaced . But , masters ,
here are your parts , giving out the parts , and I am
to entreat you , request you , and desire you to con
them by tomorrow 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 dogged with company and our devices known . In
the meantime I will draw a bill of properties such as
our play wants . I pray you fail me not .

giving out the parts ,

We will meet , and there we may rehearse
most obscenely and courageously . Take pains . Be
perfit . Adieu .

At the Duke’s Oak we meet .

Enough . Hold or cut bowstrings .

They exit .

Enter a Fairy at one door and Robin Goodfellow at another .

How now , spirit ? Whither wander you ?

Over hill , over dale ,
Thorough bush , thorough brier ,
Over park , over pale ,
Thorough flood , thorough fire ;
I do wander everywhere ,
Swifter than the moon’s sphere .
And I serve the Fairy Queen ,
To dew her orbs upon the green .
The cowslips tall her pensioners be ;
In their gold coats spots you see ;
Those be rubies , fairy favors ;
In those freckles live their savors .
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear .
Farewell , thou lob of spirits . I’ll be gone .
Our queen and all her elves come here anon .

The King doth keep his revels here tonight .
Take heed the Queen come not within his sight ,
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath
Because that she , as her attendant , hath
A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king ;
She never had so sweet a changeling .
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train , to trace the forests wild .
But she perforce withholds the lovèd boy ,
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy .
And now they never meet in grove or green ,
By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen ,
But they do square , that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn cups and hide them there .

Either I mistake your shape and making quite ,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Called Robin Goodfellow . Are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery ,
Skim milk , and sometimes labor in the quern
And bootless make the breathless huswife churn ,
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ,
Mislead night wanderers , laughing at their harm ?
Those that “ Hobgoblin ” call you and “ sweet Puck , ”
You do their work , and they shall have good luck .
Are not you he ?

Thou speakest aright .
I am that merry wanderer of the night .
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile ,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal .
And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab ,
And , when she drinks , against her lips I bob
And on her withered dewlap pour the ale .
The wisest aunt , telling the saddest tale ,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ;
Then slip I from her bum , down topples she
And “ Tailor ! ” cries and falls into a cough ,
And then the whole choir hold their hips and loffe
And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there .
But room , fairy . Here comes Oberon .

And here my mistress . Would that he were gone !

Enter Oberon the King of Fairies at one door , with his train , and Titania the Queen at another , with hers .

Ill met by moonlight , proud Titania .

What , jealous Oberon ? Fairies , skip hence .
I have forsworn his bed and company .

Tarry , rash wanton . Am not I thy lord ?

Then I must be thy lady . But I know
When thou hast stolen away from Fairyland
And in the shape of Corin sat all day
Playing on pipes of corn and versing love
To amorous Phillida . Why art thou here ,
Come from the farthest steep of India ,
But that , forsooth , the bouncing Amazon ,
Your buskined mistress and your warrior love ,
To Theseus must be wedded , and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity ?

How canst thou thus for shame , Titania ,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta ,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus ?
Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigouna , whom he ravishèd ,
And make him with fair Aegles break his faith ,
With Ariadne and Antiopa ?

These are the forgeries of jealousy ;
And never , since the middle summer’s spring ,
Met we on hill , in dale , forest , or mead ,
By pavèd fountain or by rushy brook ,
Or in the beachèd margent of the sea ,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind ,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport .
Therefore the winds , piping to us in vain ,
As in revenge have sucked up from the sea
Contagious fogs , which , falling in the land ,
Hath every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents .
The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain ,
The plowman lost his sweat , and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard .
The fold stands empty in the drownèd field ,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock .
The nine-men’s-morris is filled up with mud ,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green ,
For lack of tread , are undistinguishable .
The human mortals want their winter here .
No night is now with hymn or carol blessed .
Therefore the moon , the governess of floods ,
Pale in her anger , washes all the air ,
That rheumatic diseases do abound .
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ,
And on old Hiems’ thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is , as in mockery , set . The spring , the summer ,
The childing autumn , angry winter , change
Their wonted liveries , and the mazèd world
By their increase now knows not which is which .
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate , from our dissension ;
We are their parents and original .

Do you amend it , then . It lies in you .
Why should Titania cross her Oberon ?
I do but beg a little changeling boy
To be my henchman .

Set your heart at rest :
The Fairyland buys not the child of me .
His mother was a vot’ress of my order ,
And in the spicèd Indian air by night
Full often hath she gossiped by my side
And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands ,
Marking th’ embarkèd traders on the flood ,
When we have laughed to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind ;
Which she , with pretty and with swimming gait ,
Following ( her womb then rich with my young squire ) ,
Would imitate and sail upon the land
To fetch me trifles and return again ,
As from a voyage , rich with merchandise .
But she , being mortal , of that boy did die ,
And for her sake do I rear up her boy ,
And for her sake I will not part with him .

How long within this wood intend you stay ?

Perchance till after Theseus’ wedding day .
If you will patiently dance in our round
And see our moonlight revels , go with us .
If not , shun me , and I will spare your haunts .

Give me that boy and I will go with thee .

Not for thy fairy kingdom . Fairies , away .
We shall chide downright if I longer stay .

Titania and her fairies exit .

Well , go thy way . Thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury . —
My gentle Puck , come hither . Thou rememb’rest
Since once I sat upon a promontory
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid’s music .

I remember .

That very time I saw ( but thou couldst not ) ,
Flying between the cold moon and the Earth ,
Cupid all armed . A certain aim he took
At a fair vestal thronèd by the west ,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts .
But I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft
Quenched in the chaste beams of the wat’ry moon ,
And the imperial vot’ress passèd on
In maiden meditation , fancy-free .
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell .
It fell upon a little western flower ,
Before , milk-white , now purple with love’s wound ,
And maidens call it “ love-in-idleness . ”
Fetch me that flower ; the herb I showed thee once .
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees .
Fetch me this herb , and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league .

I’ll put a girdle round about the Earth
In forty minutes .

He exits .

Having once this juice ,
I’ll watch Titania when she is asleep
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes .
The next thing then she , waking , looks upon
( Be it on lion , bear , or wolf , or bull ,
On meddling monkey , or on busy ape )
She shall pursue it with the soul of love .
And ere I take this charm from off her sight
( As I can take it with another herb ) ,
I’ll make her render up her page to me .
But who comes here ? I am invisible ,
And I will overhear their conference .

Enter Demetrius , Helena following him .

I love thee not ; therefore pursue me not .
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia ?
The one I’ll stay ; the other stayeth me .
Thou told’st me they were stol’n unto this wood ,
And here am I , and wood within this wood
Because I cannot meet my Hermia .
Hence , get thee gone , and follow me no more .

You draw me , you hard-hearted adamant !
But yet you draw not iron , for my heart
Is true as steel . Leave you your power to draw ,
And I shall have no power to follow you .

Do I entice you ? Do I speak you fair ?
Or rather do I not in plainest truth
Tell you I do not , nor I cannot love you ?

And even for that do I love you the more .
I am your spaniel , and , Demetrius ,
The more you beat me I will fawn on you .
Use me but as your spaniel : spurn me , strike me ,
Neglect me , lose me ; only give me leave
( Unworthy as I am ) to follow you .
What worser place can I beg in your love
( And yet a place of high respect with me )
Than to be usèd as you use your dog ?

Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit ,
For I am sick when I do look on thee .

And I am sick when I look not on you .

You do impeach your modesty too much
To leave the city and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not ,
To trust the opportunity of night
And the ill counsel of a desert place
With the rich worth of your virginity .

Your virtue is my privilege . For that
It is not night when I do see your face ,
Therefore I think I am not in the night .
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company ,
For you , in my respect , are all the world .
Then , how can it be said I am alone
When all the world is here to look on me ?

I’ll run from thee and hide me in the brakes
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts .

The wildest hath not such a heart as you .
Run when you will . The story shall be changed :
Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase ;
The dove pursues the griffin ; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger . Bootless speed
When cowardice pursues and valor flies !

I will not stay thy questions . Let me go ,
Or if thou follow me , do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood .

Ay , in the temple , in the town , the field ,
You do me mischief . Fie , Demetrius !
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex .
We cannot fight for love as men may do .
We should be wooed and were not made to woo .
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell
To die upon the hand I love so well .

Demetrius exits .

Helena exits .

Fare thee well , nymph . Ere he do leave this grove ,
Thou shalt fly him , and he shall seek thy love .
Hast thou the flower there ? Welcome , wanderer .

Enter Robin .

Ay , there it is .

I pray thee give it me .
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows ,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows ,
Quite overcanopied with luscious woodbine ,
With sweet muskroses , and with eglantine .
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night ,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight .
And there the snake throws her enameled skin ,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in .
And with the juice of this I’ll streak her eyes
And make her full of hateful fantasies .
Take thou some of it , and seek through this grove .
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth . Anoint his eyes ,
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady . Thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on .
Effect it with some care , that he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love .
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow .

Robin gives him the flower .

He gives Robin part of the flower .

Fear not , my lord . Your servant shall do so .

They exit .

Enter Titania , Queen of Fairies , with her train .

Come , now a roundel and a fairy song ;
Then , for the third part of a minute , hence —
Some to kill cankers in the muskrose buds ,
Some war with reremice for their leathern wings
To make my small elves coats , and some keep back
The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits . Sing me now asleep .
Then to your offices and let me rest .

She lies down .

Fairies sing .

You spotted snakes with double tongue ,
Thorny hedgehogs , be not seen .
Newts and blindworms , do no wrong ,
Come not near our Fairy Queen .

Philomel , with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby .
Lulla , lulla , lullaby , lulla , lulla , lullaby .
Never harm
Nor spell nor charm
Come our lovely lady nigh .
So good night , with lullaby .

Weaving spiders , come not here .
Hence , you long-legged spinners , hence .
Beetles black , approach not near .
Worm nor snail , do no offence .

Philomel , with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby .
Lulla , lulla , lullaby , lulla , lulla , lullaby .
Never harm
Nor spell nor charm
Come our lovely lady nigh .
So good night , with lullaby .

Titania sleeps .

Hence , away ! Now all is well .
One aloof stand sentinel .

Fairies exit .

Enter Oberon , who anoints Titania’s eyelids with the nectar .

Enter Oberon ,

who anoints Titania’s eyelids with the nectar .

What thou seest when thou dost wake
Do it for thy true love take .
Love and languish for his sake .
Be it ounce , or cat , or bear ,
Pard , or boar with bristled hair ,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak’st , it is thy dear .
Wake when some vile thing is near .

He exits .

Enter Lysander and Hermia .

Fair love , you faint with wand’ring in the wood .
And , to speak troth , I have forgot our way .
We’ll rest us , Hermia , if you think it good ,
And tarry for the comfort of the day .

Be it so , Lysander . Find you out a bed ,
For I upon this bank will rest my head .

One turf shall serve as pillow for us both ;
One heart , one bed , two bosoms , and one troth .

Nay , good Lysander . For my sake , my dear ,
Lie further off yet . Do not lie so near .

O , take the sense , sweet , of my innocence !
Love takes the meaning in love’s conference .
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit ,
So that but one heart we can make of it ;
Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath —
So then two bosoms and a single troth .
Then by your side no bed-room me deny ,
For lying so , Hermia , I do not lie .

Lysander riddles very prettily .
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied .
But , gentle friend , for love and courtesy ,
Lie further off in human modesty .
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 !

“ Amen , amen ” to that fair prayer , say I ,
And then end life when I end loyalty !
Here is my bed . Sleep give thee all his rest !

With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be pressed !

They sleep .

Enter Robin .

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
Despisèd the Athenian maid .
And here the maiden , sleeping sound
On the dank and dirty ground .
Pretty soul , she durst not lie
Near this lack-love , this kill-courtesy . —
Churl , upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe .
When thou wak’st , let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid .
So , awake when I am gone ,
For I must now to Oberon .

He sees Lysander .

He anoints Lysander’s eyelids with the nectar .

He exits .

Enter Demetrius and Helena , running .

Stay , though thou kill me , sweet Demetrius .

I charge thee , hence , and do not haunt me thus .

O , wilt thou darkling leave me ? Do not so .

Stay , on thy peril . I alone will go .

Demetrius exits .

O , I am out of breath in this fond chase .
The more my prayer , the lesser is my grace .
Happy is Hermia , wheresoe’er she lies ,
For she hath blessèd and attractive eyes .
How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears .
If so , my eyes are oftener washed 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 sphery eyne ?
But who is here ? Lysander , on the ground !
Dead or asleep ? I see no blood , no wound . —
Lysander , if you live , good sir , awake .

And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake .
Transparent Helena ! Nature shows art ,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart .
Where is Demetrius ? O , how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword !

, waking up

Do not say so . Lysander , say not so .
What though he love your Hermia ? Lord , what though ?
Yet Hermia still loves you . Then be content .

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 swayed ,
And reason says you are the worthier maid .
Things growing are not ripe until their season ;
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 leads me to your eyes , where I o’erlook
Love’s stories written in love’s richest book .

Wherefore was I to this keen mockery 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 confess
I thought you lord of more true gentleness .
O , that a lady of one man refused
Should of another therefore be abused !

She exits .

She sees not Hermia . — Hermia , sleep thou there ,
And never mayst thou come Lysander near .
For , as a surfeit 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 heresy ,
Of all be hated , but the most of me !
And , all my powers , address your love and might
To honor Helen and to be her knight .

He exits .

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 .
Methought a serpent ate my heart away ,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey .
Lysander ! What , removed ? Lysander , lord !
What , out of hearing ? Gone ? No sound , no word ?
Alack , where are you ? Speak , an if you hear .
Speak , of all loves ! I swoon almost with fear . —
No ? Then I well perceive you are not nigh .
Either death or you I’ll find immediately .

, waking up

She exits .

With Titania still asleep onstage , enter the Clowns , Bottom , Quince , Snout , Starveling , Snug , and Flute .

Are we all met ?

Pat , pat . And here’s a marvels convenient
place for our rehearsal . This green plot shall be
our stage , this hawthorn brake our tiring-house ,
and we will do it in action as we will do it before
the Duke .

Peter Quince ?

What sayest thou , bully Bottom ?

There are things in this comedy of Pyramus
and Thisbe that will never please . First , Pyramus
must draw a sword to kill himself , which the ladies
cannot abide . How answer you that ?

By ’r lakin , a parlous fear .

I believe we must leave the killing out ,
when all is done .

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 killed indeed . And , for the more
better assurance , tell them that I , Pyramus , am not
Pyramus , but Bottom the weaver . This will put them
out of fear .

Well , we will have such a prologue , and it shall
be written in eight and six .

No , make it two more . Let it be written in
eight and eight .

Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ?

I fear it , I promise you .

Masters , you ought to consider with yourself ,
to bring in ( God shield us ! ) a lion among ladies is a
most dreadful thing . For there is not a more fearful
wildfowl than your lion living , and we ought to look
to ’t .

Therefore another prologue must tell he is not
a lion .

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
entreat 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 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 .

Well , it shall be so . But there is two hard
things : that is , to bring the moonlight into a chamber ,
for you know Pyramus and Thisbe meet by
moonlight .

Doth the moon shine that night we play our
play ?

A calendar , a calendar ! Look in the almanac .
Find out moonshine , find out moonshine .

Quince takes out a book .

Yes , it doth shine that night .

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 .

Ay , or else one must come in with a bush of
thorns and a lantern and say he comes to disfigure
or to present the person of Moonshine . Then there
is another thing : we must have a wall in the great
chamber , for Pyramus and Thisbe , says the story ,
did talk through the chink of a wall .

You can never bring in a wall . What say you ,
Bottom ?

Some man or other must present Wall . And
let him have some plaster , or some loam , or some
roughcast about him to signify wall , or let him
hold his fingers thus , and through that cranny shall
Pyramus and Thisbe whisper .

If that may be , then all is well . Come , sit down ,
every mother’s son , and rehearse your parts . Pyramus ,
you begin . When you have spoken your
speech , enter into that brake , and so everyone
according to his cue .

Enter Robin invisible to those onstage .

What hempen homespuns have we swagg’ring here
So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen ?
What , a play toward ? I’ll be an auditor —
An actor too perhaps , if I see cause .

, aside

Speak , Pyramus . — Thisbe , stand forth .

Thisbe , the flowers of odious savors sweet —

, as Pyramus

Odors , odors !

… odors savors sweet .
So hath thy breath , my dearest Thisbe dear . —
But hark , a voice ! Stay thou but here awhile ,
And by and by I will to thee appear .

, as Pyramus

He exits .

A stranger Pyramus than e’er played here .

, aside

He exits .

Must I speak now ?

Ay , marry , must you , for you must understand
he goes but to see a noise that he heard and is to
come again .

Most radiant Pyramus , most lily-white of hue ,
Of color like the red rose on triumphant brier ,
Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew ,
As true as truest horse , that yet would never tire .
I’ll meet thee , Pyramus , at Ninny’s tomb .

, as Thisbe

“ Ninus’ tomb , ” man ! Why , you must not
speak that yet . That you answer to Pyramus . You
speak all your part at once , cues and all . — Pyramus ,
enter . Your cue is past . It is “ never tire . ”

As Thisbe . As true as truest horse , that yet would never tire .
O !

As Thisbe .

Enter Robin , and Bottom as Pyramus with the ass-head .

If I were fair , fair Thisbe , I were only thine .

, as Pyramus

O monstrous ! O strange ! We are haunted . Pray ,
masters , fly , masters ! Help !

Quince , Flute , Snout , Snug , and Starveling exit .

I’ll follow you . I’ll lead you about a round ,
Through bog , through bush , through brake , through brier .
Sometime a horse I’ll be , sometime a hound ,
A hog , a headless bear , sometime a fire ,
And neigh and bark and grunt and roar and burn ,
Like horse , hound , hog , bear , fire , at every turn .

He exits .

Why do they run away ? This is a knavery of
them to make me afeard .

Enter Snout .

O Bottom , thou art changed ! What do I see on
thee ?

What do you see ? You see an ass-head of your
own , do you ?

Snout exits .

Enter Quince .

Bless thee , Bottom , bless thee ! Thou art
translated !

He exits .

The ouzel cock , so black of hue ,
With orange-tawny bill ,
The throstle with his note so true ,
The wren with little quill —
I see their knavery . This is to make an ass of
me , to fright me , if they could . But I will not stir
from this place , do what they can . I will walk up
and down here , and I will sing , that they shall hear
I am not afraid .

He sings .

What angel wakes me from my flow’ry bed ?

, waking up

The finch , the sparrow , and the lark ,
The plainsong cuckoo gray ,
Whose note full many a man doth mark
And dares not answer “ nay ” —
for , indeed , who would set his wit to so foolish a
bird ? Who would give a bird the lie though he cry
“ cuckoo ” never so ?

sings

I pray thee , gentle mortal , sing again .
Mine ear is much enamored of thy note ,
So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape ,
And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me
On the first view to say , to swear , I love thee .

Methinks , mistress , you should have little
reason for that . And yet , to say the truth , reason
and love keep little company together nowadays .
The more the pity that some honest neighbors will
not make them friends . Nay , I can gleek upon
occasion .

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful .

Not so neither ; but if I had wit enough to get
out of this wood , I have enough to serve mine own
turn .

Out of this wood do not desire to go .
Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no .
I am a spirit of no common rate .
The summer still doth tend upon my state ,
And I do love thee . Therefore go with me .
I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee ,
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep
And sing while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep .
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go . —
Peaseblossom , Cobweb , Mote , and Mustardseed !

Enter four Fairies : Peaseblossom , Cobweb , Mote , and Mustardseed .

Ready .

And I .

And I .

And I .

Where shall we go ?

Be kind and courteous to this gentleman .
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes ;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries ,
With purple grapes , green figs , and mulberries ;
The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees ,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs
And light them at the fiery glowworms’ eyes
To have my love to bed and to arise ;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes .
Nod to him , elves , and do him courtesies .

Hail , mortal !

Hail !

Hail !

Hail !

I cry your Worships mercy , heartily . — I beseech
your Worship’s name .

Cobweb .

I shall desire you of more acquaintance , good
Master Cobweb . If I cut my finger , I shall make
bold with you . — Your name , honest gentleman ?

Peaseblossom .

I pray you , commend me to Mistress Squash ,
your mother , and to Master Peascod , your father .
Good Master Peaseblossom , I shall desire you of
more acquaintance too . — Your name , I beseech
you , sir ?

Mustardseed .

Good Master Mustardseed , I know your patience
well . That same cowardly , giantlike ox-beef
hath devoured many a gentleman of your house . I
promise you , your kindred hath made my eyes
water ere now . I desire you of more acquaintance ,
good Master Mustardseed .

Come , wait upon him . Lead him to my bower .
The moon , methinks , looks with a wat’ry eye ,
And when she weeps , weeps every little flower ,
Lamenting some enforcèd chastity .
Tie up my lover’s tongue . Bring him silently .

They exit .

Enter Oberon , King of Fairies .

I wonder if Titania be awaked ;
Then what it was that next came in her eye ,
Which she must dote on in extremity .
Here comes my messenger . How now , mad spirit ?
What night-rule now about this haunted grove ?

Enter Robin Goodfellow .

My mistress with a monster is in love .
Near to her close and consecrated bower ,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour ,
A crew of patches , rude mechanicals ,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls ,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial day .
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort ,
Who Pyramus presented in their sport ,
Forsook his scene and entered in a brake .
When I did him at this advantage take ,
An ass’s noll I fixèd on his head .
Anon his Thisbe must be answerèd ,
And forth my mimic comes . When they him spy ,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye ,
Or russet-pated choughs , many in sort ,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report ,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky ,
So at his sight away his fellows fly ,
And , at our stamp , here o’er and o’er one falls .
He “ Murder ” cries and help from Athens calls .
Their sense thus weak , lost with their fears thus strong ,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ,
Some sleeves , some hats , from yielders all things catch .
I led them on in this distracted fear
And left sweet Pyramus translated there .
When in that moment , so it came to pass ,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass .

This falls out better than I could devise .
But hast thou yet latched the Athenian’s eyes
With the love juice , as I did bid thee do ?

I took him sleeping — that is finished , too —
And the Athenian woman by his side ,
That , when he waked , of force she must be eyed .

Enter Demetrius and Hermia .

Stand close . This is the same Athenian .

This is the woman , but not this the man .

They step aside .

O , why rebuke you him that loves you so ?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe !

Now I but chide , but I should use thee worse ,
For thou , I fear , hast given me cause to curse .
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep ,
Being o’er shoes in blood , plunge in the deep
And kill me too .
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me . Would he have stolen away
From sleeping Hermia ? I’ll believe as soon
This whole Earth may be bored , and that the moon
May through the center creep and so displease
Her brother’s noontide with th’ Antipodes .
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him .
So should a murderer look , so dead , so grim .

So should the murdered look , and so should I ,
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty .
Yet you , the murderer , look as bright , as clear ,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere .

What’s this to my Lysander ? Where is he ?
Ah , good Demetrius , wilt thou give him me ?

I had rather give his carcass to my hounds .

Out , dog ! Out , cur ! Thou driv’st me past the bounds
Of maiden’s patience . Hast thou slain him , then ?
Henceforth be never numbered among men .
O , once tell true ! Tell true , even for my sake !
Durst thou have looked upon him , being awake ?
And hast thou killed him sleeping ? O brave touch !
Could not a worm , an adder , do so much ?
An adder did it , for with doubler tongue
Than thine , thou serpent , never adder stung .

You spend your passion on a misprised mood .
I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood ,
Nor is he dead , for aught that I can tell .

I pray thee , tell me then that he is well .

An if I could , what should I get therefor ?

A privilege never to see me more .
And from thy hated presence part I so .
See me no more , whether he be dead or no .

She exits .

There is no following her in this fierce vein .
Here , therefore , for a while I will remain .
So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow
For debt that bankrout sleep doth sorrow owe ,
Which now in some slight measure it will pay ,
If for his tender here I make some stay .

He lies down and falls asleep .

What hast thou done ? Thou hast mistaken quite
And laid the love juice on some true-love’s sight .
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
Some true-love turned , and not a false turned true .

, to Robin

Then fate o’errules , that , one man holding troth ,
A million fail , confounding oath on oath .

About the wood go swifter than the wind ,
And Helena of Athens look thou find .
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer
With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear .
By some illusion see thou bring her here .
I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear .

I go , I go , look how I go ,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow .

He exits .

Flower of this purple dye ,
Hit with Cupid’s archery ,
Sink in apple of his eye .
When his love he doth espy ,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky . —
When thou wak’st , if she be by ,
Beg of her for remedy .

, applying the nectar to Demetrius’ eyes

Enter Robin .

Captain of our fairy band ,
Helena is here at hand ,
And the youth , mistook by me ,
Pleading for a lover’s fee .
Shall we their fond pageant see ?
Lord , what fools these mortals be !

Stand aside . The noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake .

Then will two at once woo one .
That must needs be sport alone .
And those things do best please me
That befall prepost’rously .

They step aside .

Enter Lysander and Helena .

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn ?
Scorn and derision never come in tears .
Look when I vow , I weep ; and vows so born ,
In their nativity all truth appears .
How can these things in me seem scorn to you ,
Bearing the badge of faith to prove them true ?

You do advance your cunning more and more .
When truth kills truth , O devilish holy fray !
These vows are Hermia’s . Will you give her o’er ?
Weigh oath with oath and you will nothing weigh .
Your vows to her and me , put in two scales ,
Will even weigh , and both as light as tales .

I had no judgment when to her I swore .

Nor none , in my mind , now you give her o’er .

Demetrius loves her , and he loves not you .

O Helen , goddess , nymph , perfect , divine !
To what , my love , shall I compare thine eyne ?
Crystal is muddy . O , how ripe in show
Thy lips , those kissing cherries , tempting grow !
That pure congealèd white , high Taurus’ snow ,
Fanned with the eastern wind , turns to a crow
When thou hold’st up thy hand . O , let me kiss
This princess of pure white , this seal of bliss !

, waking up

O spite ! O hell ! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment .
If you were civil and knew courtesy ,
You would not do me thus much injury .
Can you not hate me , as I know you do ,
But you must join in souls to mock me too ?
If you were men , as men you are in show ,
You would not use a gentle lady so ,
To vow and swear and superpraise my parts ,
When , I am sure , you hate me with your hearts .
You both are rivals and love Hermia ,
And now both rivals to mock Helena .
A trim exploit , a manly enterprise ,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes
With your derision ! None of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin and extort
A poor soul’s patience , all to make you sport .

You are unkind , Demetrius . Be not so ,
For you love Hermia ; this you know I know .
And here with all goodwill , with all my heart ,
In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part .
And yours of Helena to me bequeath ,
Whom I do love and will do till my death .

Never did mockers waste more idle breath .

Lysander , keep thy Hermia . I will none .
If e’er I loved her , all that love is gone .
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourned ,
And now to Helen is it home returned ,
There to remain .

Helen , it is not so .

Disparage not the faith thou dost not know ,
Lest to thy peril thou aby it dear .
Look where thy love comes . Yonder is thy dear .

Enter Hermia .

Dark night , that from the eye his function takes ,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes ;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense ,
It pays the hearing double recompense .
Thou art not by mine eye , Lysander , found ;
Mine ear , I thank it , brought me to thy sound .
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ?

, to Lysander

Why should he stay whom love doth press to go ?

What love could press Lysander from my side ?

Lysander’s love , that would not let him bide ,
Fair Helena , who more engilds the night
Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light .
Why seek’st thou me ? Could not this make thee know
The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so ?

You speak not as you think . It cannot be .

Lo , she is one of this confederacy !
Now I perceive they have conjoined all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me . —
Injurious Hermia , most ungrateful maid ,
Have you conspired , have you with these contrived ,
To bait me with this foul derision ?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared ,
The sisters’ vows , the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us — O , is all forgot ?
All schooldays’ friendship , childhood innocence ?
We , Hermia , like two artificial gods ,
Have with our needles created both one flower ,
Both on one sampler , sitting on one cushion ,
Both warbling of one song , both in one key ,
As if our hands , our sides , voices , and minds
Had been incorporate . So we grew together
Like to a double cherry , seeming parted ,
But yet an union in partition ,
Two lovely berries molded on one stem ;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart ,
Two of the first , like coats in heraldry ,
Due but to one , and crownèd with one crest .
And will you rent our ancient love asunder ,
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 .

I am amazèd at your words .
I scorn you not . It seems that you scorn me .

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
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 unloved ?
This you should pity rather than despise .

I understand not what you mean by this .

Ay , do . Persever , counterfeit sad looks ,
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 you well . ’Tis partly my own fault ,
Which death or absence soon shall remedy .

Stay , gentle Helena . Hear my excuse ,
My love , my life , my soul , fair Helena .

O excellent !

Sweet , do not scorn her so .

, to Lysander

If she cannot entreat , I can compel .

, to Lysander

Thou canst compel no more than she entreat .
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers . —
Helen , I love thee . By my life , I do .
I swear by that which I will lose for thee ,
To prove him false that says I love thee not .

I say I love thee more than he can do .

If thou say so , withdraw and prove it too .

Quick , come .

Lysander , whereto tends all this ?

She takes hold of Lysander .

Away , you Ethiop !

No , no . He’ll
Seem to break loose . To Lysander . Take on as you would follow ,
But yet come not . You are a tame man , go !

, to Hermia

To Lysander .

Hang off , thou cat , thou burr ! Vile thing , let loose ,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent .

, to Hermia

Why are you grown so rude ? What change is this ,
Sweet love ?

Thy love ? Out , tawny Tartar , out !
Out , loathèd med’cine ! O , hated potion , hence !

Do you not jest ?

Yes , sooth , and so do you .

Demetrius , I will keep my word with thee .

I would I had your bond . For I perceive
A weak bond holds you . I’ll not trust your word .

What ? Should I hurt her , strike her , kill her dead ?
Although I hate her , I’ll not harm her so .

What , can you do me greater harm than hate ?
Hate me ? Wherefore ? O me , what news , my love ?
Am not I Hermia ? Are not you Lysander ?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile .
Since night you loved me ; yet since night you left me .
Why , then , you left me — O , the gods forbid ! —
In earnest , shall I say ?

Ay , by my life ,
And never did desire to see thee more .
Therefore be out of hope , of question , of doubt .
Be certain , nothing truer , ’tis no jest
That I do hate thee and love Helena .

Hermia turns him loose .

O me ! To Helena . You juggler , you cankerblossom ,
You thief of love ! What , have you come by night
And stol’n my love’s heart from him ?

To Helena .

Fine , i’ faith .
Have you no modesty , no maiden shame ,
No touch of bashfulness ? What , will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ?
Fie , fie , you counterfeit , you puppet , you !

“ Puppet ” ? Why so ? Ay , that way goes the game .
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures ; she hath urged her height ,
And with her personage , her tall personage ,
Her height , forsooth , she hath prevailed with him .
And are you grown so high in his esteem
Because I am so dwarfish and so low ?
How low am I , thou painted maypole ? Speak !
How low am I ? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes .

I pray you , though you mock me , gentlemen ,
Let her not hurt me . I was never curst ;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness .
I am a right maid for my cowardice .
Let her not strike me . You perhaps may think ,
Because she is something lower than myself ,
That I can match her .

“ Lower ” ? Hark , again !

Good Hermia , do not be so bitter with me .
I evermore did love you , Hermia ,
Did ever keep your counsels , never wronged you —
Save that , in love unto Demetrius ,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood .
He followed you ; for love , I followed him .
But he hath chid me hence and threatened 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 .

Why , get you gone . Who is ’t that hinders you ?

A foolish heart that I leave here behind .

What , with Lysander ?

With Demetrius .

Be not afraid . She shall not harm thee , Helena .

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

O , when she is angry , she is keen and shrewd .
She was a vixen when she went to school ,
And though she be but little , she is fierce .

“ Little ” again ? Nothing but “ low ” and “ little ” ?
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ?
Let me come to her .

Get you gone , you dwarf ,
You minimus of hind’ring knotgrass made ,
You bead , you acorn —

You are too officious
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 .

Now she holds me not .
Now follow , if thou dar’st , to try whose right ,
Of thine or mine , is most in Helena .

“ Follow ” ? Nay , I’ll go with thee , cheek by jowl .

Demetrius and Lysander exit .

You , mistress , all this coil is long of you .
Nay , go not back .

Helena retreats .

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 .

She exits .

I am amazed and know not what to say .

She exits .

This is thy negligence . Still thou mistak’st ,
Or else committ’st thy knaveries willfully .

, to Robin

Believe me , king of shadows , I mistook .
Did not you tell me I should know the man
By the Athenian garments he had on ?
And so far blameless proves my enterprise
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 .

Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight .
Hie , therefore , Robin , overcast the night ;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog as black as Acheron ,
And lead these testy rivals so astray
As one come not within another’s way .
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue ;
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong .
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius .
And from each other look thou lead them thus ,
Till o’er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep .
Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye ,
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property ,
To take from thence all error with his might
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight .
When they next wake , all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision .
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend ,
With league whose date till death shall never end .
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ ,
I’ll to my queen and beg her Indian boy ;
And then I will her charmèd eye release
From monster’s view , and all things shall be peace .

He gives a flower to Robin .

My fairy lord , this must be done with haste ,
For night’s swift dragons cut the clouds full fast ,
And yonder shines Aurora’s harbinger ,
At whose approach , ghosts wand’ring here and there
Troop home to churchyards . Damnèd spirits all ,
That in crossways and floods have burial ,
Already to their wormy beds are gone .
For fear lest day should look their shames upon ,
They willfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-browed night .

But we are spirits of another sort .
I with the Morning’s love have oft made sport
And , like a forester , the groves may tread
Even till the eastern gate , all fiery red ,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessèd beams ,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams .
But notwithstanding , haste ! Make no delay .
We may effect this business yet ere day .

He exits .

Up and down , up and down ,
I will lead them up and down .
I am feared in field and town .
Goblin , lead them up and down .
Here comes one .

Enter Lysander .

Where art thou , proud Demetrius ? Speak thou now .

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

, in Demetrius’ voice

I will be with thee straight .

Follow me , then , to
plainer ground .

, in Demetrius’ voice

Lysander exits .

Enter Demetrius .

Lysander , speak again .
Thou runaway , thou coward , art thou fled ?
Speak ! In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy head ?

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 defiled
That draws a sword on thee .

, in Lysander’s voice

Yea , art thou there ?

Follow my voice . We’ll try no manhood here .

, in Lysander’s voice

They exit .

Enter Lysander .

He goes before me and still dares me on .
When I come where he calls , then he is gone .
The villain is much lighter-heeled than I .
I followed fast , but faster he did fly ,
That fallen am I in dark uneven way ,
And here will rest me . Come , thou gentle day ,
For if but once thou show me thy gray light ,
I’ll find Demetrius and revenge this spite .

He lies down and sleeps .

Enter Robin and Demetrius .

Ho , ho , ho ! Coward , why com’st thou not ?

, in Lysander’s voice

Abide me , if thou dar’st , for well I wot
Thou runn’st before me , shifting every place ,
And dar’st not stand nor look me in the face .
Where art thou now ?

Come hither . I am here .

, in Lysander’s voice

Nay , then , thou mock’st me . Thou shalt buy this dear
If ever I thy face by daylight see .
Now go thy way . Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed .
By day’s approach look to be visited .

He lies down and sleeps .

Enter Helena .

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 awhile from mine own company .

She lies down and sleeps .

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 .

Never so weary , never so in woe ,
Bedabbled with the dew and torn with 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 .
Heavens shield Lysander if they mean a fray !

She lies down and sleeps .

On the ground
Sleep sound .
I’ll apply
To your eye ,
Gentle lover , remedy .
When thou wak’st ,
Thou tak’st
True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady’s eye .
And the country proverb known ,
That every man should take his own ,
In your waking shall be shown .
Jack shall have Jill ;
Naught shall go ill ;
The man shall have his mare again , and all shall be well .

Robin applies the nectar to Lysander’s eyes .

He exits .

With the four lovers still asleep onstage , enter Titania , Queen of Fairies , and Bottom and Fairies , and Oberon , the King , behind them unseen by those onstage .

Come , sit thee down upon this flow’ry bed ,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy ,
And stick muskroses in thy sleek smooth head ,
And kiss thy fair large ears , my gentle joy .

Where’s Peaseblossom ?

Ready .

Scratch my head , Peaseblossom . Where’s
Monsieur Cobweb ?

Ready .

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

Cobweb exits .

Ready .

Give me your neaf , Monsieur Mustardseed .
Pray you , leave your courtesy , good monsieur .

What’s your will ?

Nothing , good monsieur , but to help Cavalery
Cobweb to scratch . I must to the barber’s ,
monsieur , for methinks I am marvels hairy about
the face . And I am such a tender ass , if my hair do
but tickle me , I must scratch .

What , wilt thou hear some music , my sweet love ?

I have a reasonable good ear in music . Let’s
have the tongs and the bones .

Or say , sweet love , what thou desirest to eat .

Truly , a peck of provender . I could munch
your good dry oats . Methinks I have a great desire
to a bottle of hay . Good hay , sweet hay , hath no
fellow .

I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel’s hoard and fetch thee new nuts .

I had rather have a handful or two of dried
peas . But , I pray you , let none of your people stir
me ; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me .

Sleep thou , and I will wind thee in my arms . —
Fairies , begone , and be all ways away .
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
Gently entwist ; the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm .
O , how I love thee ! How I dote on thee !

Fairies exit .

Bottom and Titania sleep .

Enter Robin Goodfellow .

Welcome , good Robin . Seest thou this sweet sight ?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity .
For , meeting her of late behind the wood ,
Seeking sweet favors 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 ;
And that same dew , which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls ,
Stood now within the pretty flouriets’ eyes ,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail .
When I had at my pleasure taunted her ,
And she in mild terms begged my patience ,
I then did ask of her her changeling child ,
Which straight she gave me , and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in Fairyland .
And now I have the boy , I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes .
And , gentle Puck , take this transformèd scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain ,
That he , awaking when the other do ,
May all to Athens back again repair
And think no more of this night’s accidents
But as the fierce vexation of a dream .
But first I will release the Fairy Queen .
Be as thou wast wont to be .
See as thou wast wont to see .
Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower
Hath such force and blessèd power .
Now , my Titania , wake you , my sweet queen .

He applies the nectar to her eyes .

My Oberon , what visions have I seen !
Methought I was enamored of an ass .

, waking

There lies your love .

How came these things to pass ?
O , how mine eyes do loathe his visage now !

Silence awhile . — Robin , take off this head . —
Titania , music call ; and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the sense .

Music , ho , music such as charmeth sleep !

Now , when thou wak’st , with thine own fool’s eyes peep .

, removing the ass-head from Bottom

Sound music .
Come , my queen , take hands with me ,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be .
Now thou and I are new in amity ,
And will tomorrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly ,
And bless it to all fair prosperity .
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded , with Theseus , all in jollity .

Music .

Music .

Titania and Oberon dance .

Fairy king , attend and mark .
I do hear the morning lark .

Then , my queen , in silence sad
Trip we after night’s shade .
We the globe can compass soon ,
Swifter than the wand’ring moon .

Come , my lord , and in our flight
Tell me how it came this night
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground .

Oberon , Robin , and Titania exit .

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

Wind horn .

Go , one of you , find out the Forester .
For now our observation is performed ,
And , since we have the vaward of the day ,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds .
Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go .
Dispatch , I say , and find the Forester .
We will , fair queen , up to the mountain’s top
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction .

A Servant exits .

I was with Hercules and Cadmus once ,
When in a wood of Crete they bayed the bear
With hounds of Sparta . Never did I hear
Such gallant chiding , for , besides the groves ,
The skies , the fountains , every region near
Seemed all one mutual cry . I never heard
So musical a discord , such sweet thunder .

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind ,
So flewed , so sanded ; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew ;
Crook-kneed , and dewlapped like Thessalian bulls ;
Slow in pursuit , but matched in mouth like bells ,
Each under each . A cry more tunable
Was never holloed to , nor cheered with horn ,
In Crete , in Sparta , nor in Thessaly .
Judge when you hear . — But soft ! What nymphs are these ?

My lord , this is my daughter here asleep ,
And this Lysander ; this Demetrius is ,
This Helena , old Nedar’s Helena .
I wonder of their being here together .

No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May , and hearing our intent ,
Came here in grace of our solemnity .
But speak , Egeus . Is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice ?

It is , my lord .

Go , bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns .

A Servant exits .

Shout within . Wind horns . They all start up .

Shout within . Wind horns .

Wind horns .

They all start up .

Good morrow , friends . Saint Valentine is past .
Begin these woodbirds but to couple now ?

Demetrius , Helena , Hermia , and Lysander kneel .

Pardon , my lord .

I pray you all , stand up .
I know you two are rival enemies .
How comes this gentle concord in the world ,
That hatred is so far from jealousy
To sleep by hate and fear no enmity ?

They rise .

My lord , I shall reply amazèdly ,
Half sleep , half waking . But as yet , I swear ,
I cannot truly say how I came here .
But , as I think — for truly would I speak ,
And now I do bethink me , so it is :
I came with Hermia hither . Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens , where we might ,
Without the peril of the Athenian law —

Enough , enough ! — My lord , you have enough .
I beg the law , the law upon his head .
They would have stol’n away . — They would , Demetrius ,
Thereby to have defeated you and me :
You of your wife and me of my consent ,
Of my consent that she should be your wife .

My lord , fair Helen told me of their stealth ,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood ,
And I in fury hither followed them ,
Fair Helena in fancy following me .
But , my good lord , I wot not by what power
( But by some power it is ) my love to Hermia ,
Melted as the snow , seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon ,
And all the faith , the virtue of my heart ,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye ,
Is only Helena . To her , my lord ,
Was I betrothed ere I saw Hermia .
But like a sickness did I loathe this food .
But , as in health , come to my natural taste ,
Now I do wish it , love it , long for it ,
And will forevermore be true to it .

Fair lovers , you are fortunately met .
Of this discourse we more will hear anon . —
Egeus , I will overbear your will ,
For in the temple by and by , with us ,
These couples shall eternally be knit . —
And , for the morning now is something worn ,
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside .
Away with us to Athens . Three and three ,
We’ll hold a feast in great solemnity .
Come , Hippolyta .

Theseus and his train , including Hippolyta and Egeus , exit .

These things seem small and undistinguishable ,
Like far-off mountains turnèd into clouds .

Methinks I see these things with parted eye ,
When everything seems double .

So methinks .
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel ,
Mine own and not mine own .

Are you sure
That we are awake ? It seems to me
That yet we sleep , we dream . Do not you think
The Duke was here and bid us follow him ?

Yea , and my father .

And Hippolyta .

And he did bid us follow to the temple .

Why , then , we are awake . Let’s follow him ,
And by the way let us recount our dreams .

Lovers exit .

When my cue comes , call me ,
and I will answer . My next is “ Most fair Pyramus . ”
Hey-ho ! Peter Quince ! Flute the bellows-mender !
Snout the tinker ! Starveling ! God’s my life ! Stolen
hence and left me asleep ! I have had a most rare
vision . I have had a dream past the wit of man to say
what dream it was . Man is but an ass if he go about
to expound this dream . Methought I was — there
is no man can tell what . Methought I was and
methought I had — but man is but a patched fool if
he will offer to say what methought I had . The eye of
man hath not heard , the ear of man hath not seen ,
man’s hand is not able to taste , his tongue to
conceive , nor his heart to report what my dream
was . I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this
dream . It shall be called “ Bottom’s Dream ” because
it hath no bottom ; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play , before the Duke . Peradventure ,
to make it the more gracious , I shall sing it at her
death .

, waking up

He exits .

Enter Quince , Flute , Snout , and Starveling .

Have you sent to Bottom’s house ? Is he come
home yet ?

He cannot be heard of . Out of doubt he
is transported .

If he come not , then the play is marred . It goes
not forward , doth it ?

It is not possible . You have not a man in all
Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he .

No , he hath simply the best wit of any handicraftman
in Athens .

Yea , and the best person too , and he is a very
paramour for a sweet voice .

You must say “ paragon . ” A “ paramour ” is ( God
bless us ) a thing of naught .

Enter Snug the joiner .

Masters , the Duke is coming from the temple ,
and there is two or three lords and ladies more
married . If our sport had gone forward , we had all
been made men .

O , sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost sixpence
a day during his life . He could not have
’scaped sixpence a day . An the Duke had not given
him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus , I’ll be
hanged . He would have deserved it . Sixpence a day
in Pyramus , or nothing !

Enter Bottom .

Where are these lads ? Where are these
hearts ?

Bottom ! O most courageous day ! O most happy
hour !

Masters , I am to discourse wonders . But ask
me not what ; for , if I tell you , I am not true
Athenian . I will tell you everything right as it fell
out .

Let us hear , sweet Bottom .

Not a word of me . All that I will tell you is that
the Duke hath dined . Get your apparel together ,
good strings to your beards , new ribbons to your
pumps . Meet presently at the palace . Every man
look o’er his part . For the short and the long is , our
play is preferred . In any case , let Thisbe have clean
linen , and let not him that plays the lion pare his
nails , for they shall hang out for the lion’s claws .
And , most dear actors , eat no onions nor garlic , for
we are to utter sweet breath , and I do not doubt but
to hear them say it is a sweet comedy . No more
words . Away ! Go , away !

They exit .

Enter Theseus , Hippolyta , and Philostrate , Lords , and Attendants .

’Tis strange , my Theseus , that these lovers speak of .

More strange than true . I never may believe
These antique fables nor these fairy toys .
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains ,
Such shaping fantasies , that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends .
The lunatic , the lover , and the poet
Are of imagination all compact .
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold :
That is the madman . The lover , all as frantic ,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt .
The poet’s eye , in a fine frenzy rolling ,
Doth glance from heaven to Earth , from Earth to heaven ,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown , the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name .
Such tricks hath strong imagination
That , if it would but apprehend some joy ,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy .
Or in the night , imagining some fear ,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear !

But all the story of the night told over ,
And all their minds transfigured so together ,
More witnesseth than fancy’s images
And grows to something of great constancy ,
But , howsoever , strange and admirable .

Enter Lovers : Lysander , Demetrius , Hermia , and Helena .

Here come the lovers full of joy and mirth . —
Joy , gentle friends ! Joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts !

More than to us
Wait in your royal walks , your board , your bed !

Come now , what masques , what dances shall we have
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bedtime ?
Where is our usual manager of mirth ?
What revels are in hand ? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ?
Call Philostrate .

Here , mighty Theseus .

, coming forward

Say what abridgment have you for this evening ,
What masque , what music ? How shall we beguile
The lazy time if not with some delight ?

There is a brief how many sports are ripe .
Make choice of which your Highness will see first .

, giving Theseus a paper

“ The battle with the Centaurs , to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp . ”
We’ll none of that . That have I told my love
In glory of my kinsman Hercules .
“ The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals ,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage . ”
That is an old device , and it was played
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror .
“ The thrice-three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning , late deceased in beggary . ”
That is some satire , keen and critical ,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony .
“ A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe , very tragical mirth . ”
“ Merry ” and “ tragical ” ? “ Tedious ” and “ brief ” ?
That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow !
How shall we find the concord of this discord ?

A play there is , my lord , some ten words long
( Which is as brief as I have known a play ) ,
But by ten words , my lord , it is too long ,
Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play ,
There is not one word apt , one player fitted .
And tragical , my noble lord , it is .
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself ,
Which , when I saw rehearsed , I must confess ,
Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed .

What are they that do play it ?

Hard-handed men that work in Athens here ,
Which never labored in their minds till now ,
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories
With this same play , against your nuptial .

And we will hear it .

No , my noble lord ,
It is not for you . I have heard it over ,
And it is nothing , nothing in the world ,
Unless you can find sport in their intents ,
Extremely stretched and conned with cruel pain
To do you service .

I will hear that play ,
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it .
Go , bring them in — and take your places , ladies .

Philostrate exits .

I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged ,
And duty in his service perishing .

Why , gentle sweet , you shall see no such thing .

He says they can do nothing in this kind .

The kinder we , to give them thanks for nothing .
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake ;
And what poor duty cannot do , noble respect
Takes it in might , not merit .
Where I have come , great clerks have purposèd
To greet me with premeditated welcomes ,
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale ,
Make periods in the midst of sentences ,
Throttle their practiced accent in their fears ,
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off ,
Not paying me a welcome . Trust me , sweet ,
Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome ,
And in the modesty of fearful duty ,
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence .
Love , therefore , and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most , to my capacity .

Enter Philostrate .

So please your Grace , the Prologue is addressed .

Let him approach .

Enter the Prologue .

If we offend , it is with our goodwill .
That you should think we come not to offend ,
But with goodwill . To show our simple skill ,
That is the true beginning of our end .
Consider , then , we come but in despite .
We do not come , as minding to content you ,
Our true intent is . All for your delight
We are not here . That you should here repent you ,
The actors are at hand , and , by their show ,
You shall know all that you are like to know .

Prologue exits .

This fellow doth not stand upon points .

He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt ;
he knows not the stop . A good moral , my lord : it is
not enough to speak , but to speak true .

Indeed he hath played on this prologue like
a child on a recorder — a sound , but not in
government .

His speech was like a tangled chain — nothing
impaired , but all disordered . Who is next ?

Enter Pyramus ( Bottom ) , and Thisbe ( Flute ) , and Wall ( Snout ) , and Moonshine ( Starveling ) , and Lion ( Snug ) , and Prologue ( Quince ) .

Gentles , perchance you wonder at this show .
But wonder on , till truth make all things plain .
This man is Pyramus , if you would know .
This beauteous lady Thisbe is certain .
This man with lime and roughcast doth present
“ Wall , ” that vile wall which did these lovers sunder ;
And through Wall’s chink , poor souls , they are content
To whisper , at the which let no man wonder .
This man , with lantern , dog , and bush of thorn ,
Presenteth “ Moonshine , ” for , if you will know ,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus’ tomb , there , there to woo .
This grisly beast ( which “ Lion ” hight by name )
The trusty Thisbe coming first by night
Did scare away or rather did affright ;
And , as she fled , her mantle she did fall ,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain .
Anon comes Pyramus , sweet youth and tall ,
And finds his trusty Thisbe’s mantle slain .
Whereat , with blade , with bloody blameful blade ,
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast .
And Thisbe , tarrying in mulberry shade ,
His dagger drew , and died . For all the rest ,
Let Lion , Moonshine , Wall , and lovers twain
At large discourse , while here they do remain .

, as Prologue

I wonder if the lion be to speak .

No wonder , my lord . One lion may when
many asses do .

Lion , Thisbe , Moonshine , and Prologue exit .

In this same interlude it doth befall
That I , one Snout by name , present a wall ;
And such a wall as I would have you think
That had in it a crannied hole or chink ,
Through which the lovers , Pyramus and Thisbe ,
Did whisper often , very secretly .
This loam , this roughcast , and this stone doth show
That I am that same wall . The truth is so .
And this the cranny is , right and sinister ,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper .

, as Wall

Would you desire lime and hair to speak
better ?

It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse , my lord .

Pyramus draws near the wall . Silence .

O grim-looked night ! O night with hue so black !
O night , which ever art when day is not !
O night ! O night ! Alack , alack , alack !
I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot .
And thou , O wall , O sweet , O lovely wall ,
That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine ,
Thou wall , O wall , O sweet and lovely wall ,
Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne .
Thanks , courteous wall . Jove shield thee well for this .
But what see I ? No Thisbe do I see .
O wicked wall , through whom I see no bliss ,
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me !

, as Pyramus

The wall , methinks , being sensible , should
curse again .

No , in truth , sir , he should not . “ Deceiving
me ” is Thisbe’s cue . She is to enter now , and I am
to spy her through the wall . You shall see it will fall
pat as I told you . Yonder she comes .

Enter Thisbe ( Flute ) .

O wall , full often hast thou heard my moans
For parting my fair Pyramus and me .
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones ,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee .

, as Thisbe

I see a voice ! Now will I to the chink
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe’s face .
Thisbe ?

, as Pyramus

My love ! Thou art my love , I think .

, as Thisbe

Think what thou wilt , I am thy lover’s grace ,
And , like Limander , am I trusty still .

, as Pyramus

And I like Helen , till the Fates me kill .

, as Thisbe

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true .

, as Pyramus

As Shafalus to Procrus , I to you .

, as Thisbe

O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall .

, as Pyramus

I kiss the wall’s hole , not your lips at all .

, as Thisbe

Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway ?

, as Pyramus

’Tide life , ’tide death , I come without delay .

, as Thisbe

Bottom and Flute exit .

Thus have I , Wall , my part dischargèd so ,
And , being done , thus Wall away doth go .

, as Wall

He exits .

Now is the wall down between the two
neighbors .

No remedy , my lord , when walls are so
willful to hear without warning .

This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard .

The best in this kind are but shadows , and
the worst are no worse , if imagination amend
them .

It must be your imagination , then , and not
theirs .

If we imagine no worse of them than they of
themselves , they may pass for excellent men . Here
come two noble beasts in , a man and a lion .

Enter Lion ( Snug ) and Moonshine ( Starveling ) .

You ladies , you whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor ,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here ,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar .
Then know that I , as Snug the joiner , am
A lion fell , nor else no lion’s dam ;
For if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place , ’twere pity on my life .

, as Lion

A very gentle beast , and of a good
conscience .

The very best at a beast , my lord , that e’er I
saw .

This lion is a very fox for his valor .

True , and a goose for his discretion .

Not so , my lord , for his valor cannot carry
his discretion , and the fox carries the goose .

His discretion , I am sure , cannot carry his
valor , for the goose carries not the fox . It is well .
Leave it to his discretion , and let us listen to the
Moon .

This lanthorn doth the hornèd moon present .

, as Moonshine

He should have worn the horns on his
head .

He is no crescent , and his horns are invisible
within the circumference .

This lanthorn doth the hornèd moon present .
Myself the man i’ th’ moon do seem to be .

, as Moonshine

This is the greatest error of all the rest ; the
man should be put into the lanthorn . How is it else
“ the man i’ th’ moon ” ?

He dares not come there for the candle ,
for you see , it is already in snuff .

I am aweary of this moon . Would he would
change .

It appears by his small light of discretion that
he is in the wane ; but yet , in courtesy , in all reason ,
we must stay the time .

Proceed , Moon .

All that I have to say is to tell
you that the lanthorn is the moon , I the man i’ th’
moon , this thornbush my thornbush , and this dog
my dog .

, as Moonshine

Why , all these should be in the lanthorn ,
for all these are in the moon . But silence . Here
comes Thisbe .

Enter Thisbe ( Flute ) .

This is old Ninny’s tomb . Where is my love ?

, as Thisbe

O !

, as Lion

The Lion roars . Thisbe runs off , dropping her mantle .

The Lion roars .

Thisbe runs off , dropping her mantle .

Well roared , Lion .

Well run , Thisbe .

Well shone , Moon . Truly , the Moon shines
with a good grace .

Lion worries the mantle .

Well moused , Lion .

Enter Pyramus ( Bottom ) .

And then came Pyramus .

Lion exits .

And so the lion vanished .

Sweet Moon , I thank thee for thy sunny beams .
I thank thee , Moon , for shining now so bright ,
For by thy gracious , golden , glittering gleams ,
I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight . —
But stay ! O spite !
But mark , poor knight ,
What dreadful dole is here !
Eyes , do you see !
How can it be !
O dainty duck ! O dear !
Thy mantle good —
What , stained with blood ?
Approach , ye Furies fell !
O Fates , come , come ,
Cut thread and thrum ,
Quail , crush , conclude , and quell !

, as Pyramus

This passion , and the death of a dear friend ,
would go near to make a man look sad .

Beshrew my heart but I pity the man .

O , wherefore , Nature , didst thou lions frame ,
Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear ,
Which is — no , no — which was the fairest dame
That lived , that loved , that liked , that looked with cheer ?
Come , tears , confound !
Out , sword , and wound
The pap of Pyramus ;
Ay , that left pap ,
Where heart doth hop . Pyramus stabs himself .
Thus die I , thus , thus , thus .
Now am I dead ;
Now am I fled ;
My soul is in the sky .
Tongue , lose thy light !
Moon , take thy flight ! Moonshine exits .
Now die , die , die , die , die .

, as Pyramus

Pyramus stabs himself .

Moonshine exits .

Pyramus falls .

No die , but an ace for him , for he is but
one .

Less than an ace , man , for he is dead , he is
nothing .

With the help of a surgeon he might yet
recover and yet prove an ass .

How chance Moonshine is gone before
Thisbe comes back and finds her lover ?

She will find him by starlight .
Here she comes , and her passion ends the play .

Enter Thisbe ( Flute ) .

Methinks she should not use a long one for
such a Pyramus . I hope she will be brief .

A mote will turn the balance , which Pyramus ,
which Thisbe , is the better : he for a man , God
warrant us ; she for a woman , God bless us .

She hath spied him already with those
sweet eyes .

And thus she means , videlicet —

Asleep , my love ?
What , dead , my dove ?
O Pyramus , arise !
Speak , speak . Quite dumb ?
Dead ? Dead ? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes .
These lily lips ,
This cherry nose ,
These yellow cowslip cheeks
Are gone , are gone !
Lovers , make moan ;
His eyes were green as leeks .
O Sisters Three ,
Come , come to me
With hands as pale as milk .
Lay them in gore ,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk .
Tongue , not a word !
Come , trusty sword ,
Come , blade , my breast imbrue ! Thisbe stabs herself .
And farewell , friends .
Thus Thisbe ends .
Adieu , adieu , adieu . Thisbe falls .

, as Thisbe

Thisbe stabs herself .

Thisbe falls .

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the
dead .

Ay , and Wall too .

Bottom and Flute arise .

No , I assure you , the wall is down that
parted their fathers . Will it please you to see the
Epilogue or to hear a Bergomask dance between
two of our company ?

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve .
Lovers , to bed ! ’Tis almost fairy time .
I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatched .
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night . Sweet friends , to bed .
A fortnight hold we this solemnity
In nightly revels and new jollity .
No epilogue , I pray you . For your play needs
no excuse . Never excuse . For when the players are
all dead , there need none to be blamed . Marry , if
he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged
himself in Thisbe’s garter , it would have been a fine
tragedy ; and so it is , truly , and very notably discharged .
But , come , your Bergomask . Let your
epilogue alone .

Dance , and the players exit .

They exit .

Enter Robin Goodfellow .

Now the hungry lion roars ,
And the wolf behowls the moon ,
Whilst the heavy plowman snores ,
All with weary task fordone .
Now the wasted brands do glow ,
Whilst the screech-owl , screeching loud ,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud .
Now it is the time of night
That the graves , all gaping wide ,
Every one lets forth his sprite
In the church-way paths to glide .
And we fairies , that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team
From the presence of the sun ,
Following darkness like a dream ,
Now are frolic . Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house .
I am sent with broom before ,
To sweep the dust behind the door .

Enter Oberon and Titania , King and Queen of Fairies , with all their train .

Through the house give glimmering light ,
By the dead and drowsy fire .
Every elf and fairy sprite ,
Hop as light as bird from brier ,
And this ditty after me ,
Sing and dance it trippingly .

First rehearse your song by rote ,
To each word a warbling note .
Hand in hand , with fairy grace ,
Will we sing and bless this place .

Oberon leads the Fairies in song and dance .

Now , until the break of day ,
Through this house each fairy stray .
To the best bride-bed will we ,
Which by us shall blessèd be ,
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate .
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be ,
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand .
Never mole , harelip , nor scar ,
Nor mark prodigious , such as are
Despisèd in nativity ,
Shall upon their children be .
With this field-dew consecrate
Every fairy take his gait ,
And each several chamber bless ,
Through this palace , with sweet peace .
And the owner of it blest ,
Ever shall in safety rest .
Trip away . Make no stay .
Meet me all by break of day .

All but Robin exit .

If we shadows have offended ,
Think but this and all is mended :
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear .
And this weak and idle theme ,
No more yielding but a dream ,
Gentles , do not reprehend .
If you pardon , we will mend .
And , as I am an honest Puck ,
If we have unearnèd luck
Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue ,
We will make amends ere long .
Else the Puck a liar call .
So good night unto you all .
Give me your hands , if we be friends ,
And Robin shall restore amends .

He exits .

Author: William Shakespeare
Publication: The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), February, 2017, MND
Editors: Barbara A. Mowat, Paul Werstine, Barbara A. Mowat, Paul Werstine
Encoded in TEI Simple by: Martin Mueller, Michael Poston
Linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner by: Philip R. Burns, Martin Mueller
Edited for XML and encoded by: Michael Poston, Rebecca Niles
Source: https://www.folgerdigitaltexts.org/download/teisimple/MND.xml