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With mean disguise let others nature hide,

And mimick virtue with the paint of art;
I fcorn the cheat of reason's foolish pride,

Ind boast 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 passion, safe remain,

And dull sensation keeps the stupid wise.

The. Take time to pause, and by the next new moony
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me)
Upon that day either prepare to die,
For disobedience to your father's will,
Or else to wed Demetrius; or protest
A single life on chaste Diana's altar.

Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia, and Lysander yield,

Lyf. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.

Ege. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my love;
And what is mine, my love shall render him.

Lyf. I am, my Lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well posseft: 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 shou'd not I then prosecute my right?

Demetrius sought Nedar's daughter Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet Lady, doats,
Devoutly doats, doats in idolatry
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

The. I must confess that I have heard fo much,
And with Demetrius thought t'have spoke thereof;
But being over-full 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
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolita.


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Manent Lysander and Hermia.
Lyf. Hermia, tor aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood,
Or else misgrafted in respect of years,
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or fickness did lay fiege to it
Making it momentary as a found,
Swift as a shadow, short 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 say, behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confusion

Her. If then true lovers have been ever croft,
Oh, let us teach our trial patience:

Lys. A good persuasion; therefore hear me, Hermia :
I have a widow-aunt, a dowager,
From Athens is her house remov'd seven leagues ;
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,

And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lov'st me, then,
Steal forth to-morrow night; and in the wood
Where I did meet thes once with Helena,
'To do ob'ervance to the morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.


When that gay season did us lead
To the tann'd hay-cock in the mead,
When the merry bells rung round,
And the rebecks brisk did found,
When young and old came forth to play
On a sunshine holyday.
Let us wander far away,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray
Orr the mountains bar ren breast,
W bere labouring clouds do often rest,
O'er the meads with daizies py'd,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.


Hér. My good Lysander,
I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
To morrow truly will I meet Lysander.

Lys. Keep promise, love. Look here comes He!ena.

Enter Helena.

Her. Good speed, fair Helena! whither away ?

Hil. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay ; Demetrius loves you, fair;


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

Her. Take comfort;
Deinetrius no more shall see your Hermia,
Lysander and myself will fy this place.


Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to me;
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a beaven into a bell!

Lyf. Helen, to you wé will unfold our minds;
To-morrow night, when Phebe doth behold
Her filver visage in the wat'ry glass,
Decking the bladed grass with liquid pearl,
(A time to lovers flights is still propitious)
Through Athens' gate have we devis’d to steal.

Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Were won't to lye upon faint primrose beds,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsels sweet,
There my Lysander and myself thall meet,
And thence from Athens turn away our eves,
To seek new friends and strange companions.
Farewel sweet play-fellow! Pray thou for us;

B 2


Keep word, Lysander, 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.

[Exit Lyf. Hel. How happy fome, o’er other some can be ! Through Athens I am thought as fair as Hermia; But what of that; Demetriùs thinks not fo: Yet ere he took'd on Hermia's


he swore,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine :
I will yo tell him of fair Hermia's fight :
Then to the Wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence,
If I have thanks, it is a dear reward.




Against myself why all this art,
To glad my eyes, I grieve my

give him joy, I court my bane !
And with his fight enrich my pain.


[Exit Hel.

SCENE a Room in Quince's House: :
Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and


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Quin. Is all our company here?

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

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

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say 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 assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scrowl. Masters, spread yourselves.

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

Qui no

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Quin. A lover that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask fome 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 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 shocks shall break the locks of prison

gates, and Phibbus carr shall shine from far, and make and « mar the foolish fates !" This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles vein, a tyrant's vein ; a lover is more condoling:

Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender:
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. 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

I speak in a monstrous little voice ; Thisne, Thisne; ah Pyramus my lover dear, thy Thisby dear, and lady dear.

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

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, Pyramys's father ; myself, Thilby'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 Aow 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
Dutchess and the Ladies, that they would shriek, and that
were enough to hang us alt.
All. That would hang us every mother's son.'


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