4 Bot. What do you see? you see an ass's head of your own; Do you? Re-enter Quince. Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit. Bot. 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. [Sings. The ousel-cock, so black of hue, The throstle with his note so true, Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed! [Waking. Bot. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, Whose note full many a man doth mark, 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? Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days: the more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek,2 upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. (1) The cuckoo, with his uniform note. (2) Joke. Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. The summer still doth tend upon my state, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep: Where shall we go? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 2 Fai. Hail! 3 Fai. Hail! 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily.-1 beseech, your worship's name. Cob. Cobweb. (1) Gooseberries. Bot. 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 ? Peas. Peas-blossom. Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too.-Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mus. Mustard-seed. : Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well that same cowardly, giant-like oxbeef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed. Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another part of the wood. Enter Obe. I wonder if Titania be awak'd; Enter Puck. Here comes my messenger. How now, mad, spirit? (1) Revelry. (2) Simple fellows. Were met together to rehearse a play, And forth my mimic3 comes: when they him spy, And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; 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 : Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch'd4 the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? Puck. I took him sleeping, that is finish'd too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey❜d. Enter Demetrius and Hermia. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O why rebuke you him that loves you so,? (1) Stupid company. (2) Head. (3) Actor. (4) Infected. Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse; For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, The sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me: Would he have stol'n away This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon Dem. So should the murder'd look; and so should I, Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty : Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me ? Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. |