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LYSANDER. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends- `
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HERMIA. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. `
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LYSANDER. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, `
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War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it, `
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Making it momentary as a sound, `
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Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, `
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Brief as the lightning in the collied night `
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That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, `
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And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' `
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The jaws of darkness do devour it up; `
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So quick bright things come to confusion. `
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HERMIA. If then true lovers have ever cross'd, `
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It stands as an edict in destiny. `
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Then let us teach our trial patience, `
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Because it is a customary cross, `
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As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, `
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Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers. `
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LYSANDER. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia. `
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I have a widow aunt, a dowager `
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Of great revenue, and she hath no child- `
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From Athens is her house remote seven leagues- `
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And she respects me as her only son. `
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There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; `
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And to that place the sharp Athenian law `
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Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, `
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Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; `
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And in the wood, a league without the town, `
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Where I did meet thee once with Helena `
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To do observance to a morn of May, `
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There will I stay for thee. `
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HERMIA. My good Lysander! `
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I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow, `
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By his best arrow, with the golden head, `
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By the simplicity of Venus' doves, `
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By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, `
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And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen, `
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When the false Troyan under sail was seen, `
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By all the vows that ever men have broke, `
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In number more than ever women spoke, `
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In that same place thou hast appointed me, `
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To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. `
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LYSANDER. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. `
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Enter HELENA `
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HERMIA. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? `
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HELENA. Call you me fair? That fair again unsay. `
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Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair! `
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Your eyes are lode-stars and your tongue's sweet air `
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More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, `
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When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. `
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Sickness is catching; O, were favour so, `
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Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go! `
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My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, `
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My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. `
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Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, `
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The rest I'd give to be to you translated. `
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O, teach me how you look, and with what art `
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You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart! `
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HERMIA. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. `
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HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! `
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HERMIA. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. `
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HELENA. O that my prayers could such affection move! `
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HERMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me. `
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HELENA. The more I love, the more he hateth me. `
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HERMIA. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. `
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HELENA. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine! `
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HERMIA. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; `
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Lysander and myself will fly this place. `
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Before the time I did Lysander see, `
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Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me. `
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, `
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That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! `
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LYSANDER. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: `
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To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold `
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Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, `
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Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, `
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A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, `
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Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. `
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HERMIA. And in the wood where often you and I `
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Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, `
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Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, `
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There my Lysander and myself shall meet; `
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And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, `
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To seek new friends and stranger companies. `
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Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us, `
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And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! `
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Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight `
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From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. `
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LYSANDER. I will, my Hermia. [Exit HERMIA] Helena, adieu; `
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As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. Exit `
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HELENA. How happy some o'er other some can be! `
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Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. `
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But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; `
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He will not know what all but he do know. `
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And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, `
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So I, admiring of his qualities. `
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, `
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Love can transpose to form and dignity. `
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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; `
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And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. `
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Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; `
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Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste; `
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And therefore is Love said to be a child, `
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Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. `
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As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, `
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So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere; `
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For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, `
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He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; `
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And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, `
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So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt. `
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I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight; `
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Then to the wood will he to-morrow night `
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Pursue her; and for this intelligence `
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If I have thanks, it is a dear expense. `
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But herein mean I to enrich my pain, `
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To have his sight thither and back again. Exit `
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SCENE II. `
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Athens. QUINCE'S house `
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Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING `
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QUINCE. Is all our company here? `
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BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man, `
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according `
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to the scrip. `
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QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought `
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fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the `
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Duke `
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and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night. `
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BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; `
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then `
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read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. `
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QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most `
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Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.' `
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BOTTOM. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. `
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Now, `
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good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. `
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Masters, `
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spread yourselves. `
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QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. `
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BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. `
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QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. `
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BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant? `
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QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. `
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BOTTOM. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. `
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If I `
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do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move `
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storms; I `
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will condole in some measure. To the rest- yet my chief `
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humour is `
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for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a `
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cat `
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in, to make all split. `
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'The raging rocks `
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And shivering shocks `
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Shall break the locks `
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Of prison gates; `
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And Phibbus' car `
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Shall shine from far, `
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And make and mar `
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The foolish Fates.' `
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This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is `
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Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein: a lover is more condoling. `
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QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. `
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FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince. `
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QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you. `
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FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight? `
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QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. `
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FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard `
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coming. `
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QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you `
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may `
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speak as small as you will. `
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BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too. `
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I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!' `
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[Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy `
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Thisby dear, and lady dear!' `
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QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby. `
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BOTTOM. Well, proceed. `
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QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor. `
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STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince. `
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QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. `
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Tom Snout, the tinker. `
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SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince. `
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QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, `
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the `
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joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play `
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fitted. `
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SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, `
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give it `
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me, for I am slow of study. `
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QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. `
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BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do `
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