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As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,
My good Lysander!
Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
More tuneable than lark to shepberd's ear,
Sickness is catching; O were favour so!
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
Her. 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,
[Exit Hermia, Lys. I will, my Hermia.--Helena, adieu : As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
[Exit Lysander. Hel. 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 judgement taste; Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste : And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. As waggish boys in game* themselves forswear, So the boy love is perjur'd every where: For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eynet, He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night, Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expence: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither, and back again. [Exit.
The same. A room in a Cottage.
Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Spout, Quince, and
Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
Quin. 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 duchess, 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 so grow to a point.
Quin. Marry, our play is—The most lamentable comery, and most 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 scroll: 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 Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.
Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performiog 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,
“ of prison-gates:
“ The foolish fates." This was lofty !-Now naine 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. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.
Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too : I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;- Thisne, Thisne.- Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy This. by dear! and lady dear!
Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby.
Bot. Well, proceed.
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's, mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker.
Snout. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father ;-Saug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:--and, I hope, bere is a play fitted.
Snug. Have you the lion's part written ? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.