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Is only Helena. To her, my Lord,
Was I betrothed e'er I did fee Hermia;
But like a Sickness did I loath this Food;
But as in Health come to my natural Taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

Thef. Fair Lovers, you are fortunately met;
Of this Difcourfe we fhall hear more anon.
Egeus, I will over-bear your Will,
For in the Temple, by and by with us,
These Couples fhall eternally be knit:
And for the Morning now is fomething worn,
Our purpos'd Hunting fhall be fet aside.
Away with us to Athens, three and three,
We'll hold a Feast in great Solemnity.

Come Hippolita.

[Exit Duke and Lords. Dem. Thefe Things feem fmall and undistinguishable, Like far-off Mountains turned into Clouds.

Her. Methinks I fee these things with parted Eye,

When every Thing feems double.

Hel. So methinks;

And I have found Demetrius like a Jewel;

Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem. It feems fo to me,

That we fleep, we dream. Do not you think

The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Her. Yea, and my Father.

Hel. And Hippolita.

Lyf. And he bid us follow to the Temple.

Dem. Why then we are awake; let's follow him, and by

the Way let us recount our Dreams.

[Exeunt. [Bottom wakes.

Bot. When my Cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, Moft fair Pyramus---Hey ho, Peter Quince! Flute the Bellows-mender! Snout the Tinker! Starveling! God's my Life! Stol'n hence, and left me afleep. I have had a most rare Vifion. I had a Dream paft the Wit of Man to fay what Dream it was: Man is but an Afs 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 patch'd Fool, if he will offer to fay what methought

methought I had. The Eye of Man hath not heard, the Ear of Man hath not feen; Man's Hand is not able to tafte, 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 call'd Bottom's Dream, because it hath no Bottom; and I will fing it in the latter End of a Play before the Duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I fhall fing it at her Death. [Exit. Enter Quince, Flute, Thisby, Snowt and Starveling. Quin. Have you fent to Bottom's Houfe? Is he come Home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is tranf ported.

This. If he come not, then the Play is marr'd. It goes forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not poffible; you have not a Man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.

Thif. No, he hath fimply the best Wit of any Handycraft Man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best Person too; and he is a very Pa→ ramour for a fweet Voice.

This. You must fay, Paragon; a Paramour is (God bless us) a Thing of naught.

Enter Snug.

Snug. Mafters, 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.

This. O fweet Bully Bottom; thus hath he loft Six pence a Day during his Life; he could not have 'scaped Six pence a Day; and the Duke had not given him Six pence a Day for Playing Pyramus, I'll be hang'd: He would have deferv'd it. Six pence a Day in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter Bottom.

Bot. Where are thefe Lads? Where are thefe Hearts? Quin. Bottom, O most couragious Day! O most happy Hour!

Bot. Mafters, I am to discourse Wonders; but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing as it fell out.

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Quin. Let us hear, fweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a Word of me; all 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 prefently at the Palace, every Man look o'er his Part; for the fhort and the long is, our Play is preferred: In any cafe let Thisby have clean Linnen; and let not him that plays the Lion pare his Nails, for they fhall hang out for the Lion's Claws; and moft dear Actors, eat no Onions, nor Garlick, for we are to utter fweet Breath; and I do not doubt to hear them fay, it is a fweet Comedy. No more Words; away, go a

way.

ACT V. SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

Enter Thefeus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

Hip. "TIS

IS ftrange, my Thefeus, that thefe Lovers fpeak of.
Thef. More ftrange than true. I never may believe
Thefe Antick Fables, nor thefe Fairy Toys;
Lovers and Madmen have fuch feething Brains,
Such fhaping Phantafies, that apprehend more
Than cool Reafon ever comprehends.

The Lunatick, the Lover, and the Poet,
Are of Imagination all compact:

One fees more Devils than vaft Hell can hold;

That is the Madman. The Lover, all as frantick,

Sees Helen's Beauty in a Brow of Egypt.

The Poet's Eye in a fine Frenzy rowling,

Doth glance from Heav'n to Earth, from Earth to Heav'n:

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 ftrong Imagination,
That if it would but apprehend fome Joy,
It comprehends fome Bringer of that Joy:
Or in the Night, imagining fome Fear,
How cafie is a Bufh fuppos'd a Bear?

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Hp

Hip. But all the Story of the Night told over,
And all their Minds transfigur'd fo together,
More witneffeth than Fancies Images,

And grows to fomething of great Conftancy;
But, howfoever, ftrange and admirable.

Enter Lyfander, Demetrius, Hermia, and
Helena.

Thef. Here come the Lovers, full of Joy and Mirth. Joy, gentle Friends, Joy and fresh days of Love Accompany your Hearts.

Lyf. More than to us,

Wait on your Royal Walks, your Board, your Bed.
Thef. Come now, what Masks, what Dances fhall we
have,

To wear away this long Age of three Hours,
Between our after-fupper and Bed-time?
Where is our ufual manager of Mirth?
What Revels are in hand? Is there no Play
To ease the Anguish of a torturing Hour?
Call Egens.

Ege. Here, mighty Thefeus.

Thef. Say, what Abridgement have you for this Evening? What Mask? What Mufick? How fhall we beguile

The lazy time, if not with some Delight?

Ege. There is a Brief how many Sports are rife: Make choice of which your Highness will fee firft. Lyf. The Battel with the Centaur, to be fung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harp.

Thef. We'll none of that. That have I told my Love, In glory of my Kinfman Hercules.

Lyf. The Riot of the tipfie Bachanals,

Tearing the Thracian Singer in their Rage.

Thef. That is an old Device, and it was plaid

When I from Thebes came laft a Conqueror.

Lyf. The thrice three Mufes, mourning for the Death of Learning, late deceas'd in Beggary.

Thef. That is fome Satyr keen and critical,
Not forting with a Nuptial Ceremony.
Lys. A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus,
And his Love Thisby; very tragical Mirth.

Thef

Thef. Merry and Trágical? Tedious and Brief? That is, hot Ice, and wondrous ftrange Snow. How fhall we find the Concord of this Difcord?

Ege. A Play there is, my Lord, fome ten Words long,
Which is as brief as I have known à 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 faw rehears'd, I must confefs
Made mine Eyes water; but more merry Tears
The paffion of loud Laughter never shed.
Thef. What are they that do play it?

Ege. Hard-handed Men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their Minds till now;

And now have toiled their unbreathed Memories
With this fame Play, against your Nuptials.

Thef. And we will hear it.

n

Ege. 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 fport in their Intents,

Extremely ftretch'd, and conn'd with cruel Pain,
To do you Service.

Thef. I will hear that Play: For never any thing
Can be amifs, when Simpleness and Duty tender it.
Go bring them in, and take your Places, Ladies.
Hip. I love not to fee Wretchedness o'ercharg'd,
And Duty in his Service perifhing.

Thef. Why, gentle Sweet, you fhall fee no fuch thing. Hip. He fays they can do nothing in this kind.

Thef. The kinder we, to give them Thanks for nothing. Our Sport fhall 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 purposed
To greet me with premeditated Welcomes;
Where I have seen them fhiver, and look pale,
Make Periods in the midft of Sentences,
Throttle their practis'd Accent in their Fears,
VOL II.

E

And

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