AIR.

With mean difguife let others nature hide,
And mimick virtue with the paint of art;
I fcorn the cheat of reafon's foolish pride,
And boaft the graceful weakness of my heart;
The more I think, the more I feel my pain,
And learn the more euch heav'nly charm to prize;
While fools, too light for paffion, fafe remain,
And dull fenfation keeps the ftupid wife.

The. Take time to pause, and by the next new moon,
(The fealing-day betwixt my love and me)
Upon that day either prepare to die,
For difobedience to your father's will,
Or elfe to wed Demetrius; or proteft
A fingle life on chafte Diana's altar.

Dem. Relent, fweet Hermia, and Lyfander yield.
Lyf. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.
Ege. Scornful Lyfander! true, he hath my love;
And what is mine, my love fhall render him.
Lyf. I am, my Lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well poffeft: My love is more than his :
My fortune's ev'ry way as fairly rank'd,
And, which is more than all, I'm lov'd of Hermia.
Why fhou'd not I then profecute my right?
Demetrius fought Nedar's daughter Helena,
And won her foul; and fhe, fweet Lady, doats,
Devoutly doats, doats in idolatry

Upon this spotted and inconftant man.

The. I muft confess that I have heard fo much,
And with Demetrius thought t'have fpoke thereof;
But being over-full of self-affairs

My mind did lofe it. But Demetrius, come,
And come, Egeus, you fhall go with me,
I have fome 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
To death, or to a vow of fingle life.
Come, my Hippolita.

[Exeunt.

Manent Lyfander and Hermia.

Lyf. Hermia, for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or hiftory,

The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood,
Or elfe mifgrafted in refpect of years,
Or else it flood upon the choice of friends,
Or if there were a fympathy in choice,
War, death, or fickness did lay fiege to it
Making it momentary as a found,

Swift as a fhadow, fhort as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n and earth;
And ere a man hath power to fay, behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confufion

Her. If then true lovers have been ever croft,

Oh, let us teach our trial patience:

Lyf. A good perfuafion; therefore hear me, Hermia:

I have a widow-aunt, a dowager,

From Athens is her house remov'd feven leagues;
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,
And to that place the fharp Athenian law
Cannot purfue us. If thou lov'ft me, then,
Steal forth to-morrow night; and in the wood
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do obfervance to the morn of May,
There will I ftay for thee.

AIR,

When that gay feafon did us lead
To the tann'd hay-cock in the mead,
When the merry bells rung round,
And the rebecks brifk did found,
When young and old came forth to play
On a funfhine holyday.

Let us wander far away,
Where the nibbling flocks do fray
O'er the mountains barren breast,
Where labouring clouds do often reft,
O'er the meads with daizies py'd,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.

Her.

Her. My good Lylander,

I fwear to thee by Cupid's ftrongest bow,
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
To morrow truly will I meet Lyfander.

Lyf. Keep promife, love. Look here comes Helena.

Enter Helena.

Her. Good fpeed, fair Helena! whither away? Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unfay; Demetrius loves you, fair;

AIR.

O Hermia fair, O happy, happy fair,

Your eyes are load flars, and your Tongue's fiveet air
More tuneable than lark to fhepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear;
O teach me how you look, and with what art
You fway the motions of your lover's heart.

Her. Take comfort;

Demetrius no more fhall fee your Hermia,
Lyfander and myself will fly this place.

AIR.

Before the time I did Lyfander fee,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradife to me;
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven into a hell!

Lyf. Helen, to you we will unfold our minds;
To-morrow night, when Phebe doth behold
Her filver vifage in the wat'ry glass,

Decking the bladed grafs with liquid pearl,
(A time to lovers flights is ftill propitious)
Through Athens' gate have we devis'd to fteal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Were won't to lye upon faint primrose beds,
Emptying our bofoms of their counfels fweet,
There my Lyfander and myself fhall meet,
And thence from Athens turn away our eves,
To feck new friends and ftrange companions.
Farewel fweet play-fellow! Pray thou for us;

B 2

Keep

Keep word, Lyfander, we must starve our fight

From lover's food, 'till morrow deep midnight. [Exit Hermia.
Lyf. I will, my Hermia. Helena, adieu!
As you on him, Demetrius doat on you.

Hel. How happy fome, o'er other fome can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as Hermia;
But what of that; Demetrius thinks not fo:
Yet ere he look'd on Hermia's eyes, he swore,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine:
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the Wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence,
If I have thanks, it is a dear reward.

AIR.

Againft myself why all this art,
To glad my eyes, I grieve my heart;
To give him joy, I court my bane!
And with his fight enrich my pain.

[Exit Lyf.

[Exit Hel.

SCENE a Room in Quince's House:

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

Quin. Is all our company here?

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

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

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

Quin. Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy, and molt cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

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

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

Quiz.

Quin. A lover that kills himself moft gallantly for love. Bot. That will afk fome tears in the true performing of it: If I do it let the audience look to their eyes; I will move ftorms; I will condole in fome measure. To the reft; yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in. "To make all split the raging "rocks and shivering fhocks fhall break the locks of prison66 gates, and Phibbus carr fhall fhine from far, and make and 66 mar the foolish fates!" This was lofty. Now name the reft of the players. This is Ercles vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling.

Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.

Flu. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby, a wand'ring knight?
Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must love.

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

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

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

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

Bot. Well, proceed.

Quin. Robin Starveling, the Taylor.

Star. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother : Tom Snowt, the tinker.

Snowt. Here, Peter Quince.

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

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

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

Bot. Let me play the Lion too, I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me. I will roar, that I will make the Duke fay, let him roar again, let him roar again!

Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchefs and the Ladies, that they would fhriek, and that were enough to hang us all.

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

Bot