. 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 ox beef 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 Oberon. Obe. I wonder if Titania be awak'd; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. 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: catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there: 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. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. (1) Stupid company. (2) Head. (3) Actor. 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 Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty: 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. Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. Dem. And if I could, what should I get there fore? Her. A privilege, never to see me more.— And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. [Lies down. Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true. Puck. Then fate o'er-rules; that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find : All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer? With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear: Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. [Exit. Hit with Cupid's archery, (1) Love-sick. VOL. II. Countenance. Re-enter Puck. Puck. Captain of our fairy band, And the youth, mistook by me, Shall we their fond pageant see? Obe. Stand aside: the noise they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake. Puck. Then will two at once, woo one; And those things do best please me, Enter Lysander and Helena. Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? Hel. You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! These vows are Hermia's; Will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales. Lys. I had no judgment, when to her I swore. Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? |