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Lys, How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?

Her. Belike for want of rain, which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of mine cycs.

Lys. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth:
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,

War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,

That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:

So quick bright things come to confusion.

Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd,

It stands as an edict in destiny:

Then let us teach our trial patience,

Because it is a customary cross;

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs,

Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.

Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.

I have a widow aunt, a dowager

Of great revenue, and she hath no child;

From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ;

And she respects me as her only son.

There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,

To do observance to a morn of May,

There will I stay for thee.

Her.

My good Lysander!

I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow;

By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves;

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By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke ;-
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thec.

Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.

HELENA enters as if looking for them. They previously go aside. As HELENA sees them she starts with a pang, and HERMIA advances smilingly.

Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves you fair: O happy fair!

Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air,
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favour so,

Your words I'd catch, fair Hermia, ere I go,

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,

My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, it would I give

To be to you transformed.

O, teach me how you look, and with what art

You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.

[Coquettishly. Hel. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

[Turns from LYSANDER, pettishly, and crosses. Hel. O that my prayers could such affection move! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.

Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.

[LYSANDER kneels at her feet and kisses her hand. Hel. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine! [Throws herself on seat and buries her head in her hands. Her. Take comfort, he no more shall see my face;

Lysander and myself will fly this place.

Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens like a paradise to me:
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,)
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.

Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to liè,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet :
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes,
To seck new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow, pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight.

As

[Exit HERMIA, R.; the music of lyres is heard outside. Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu :

[Sinks on seat, C.

you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Exit LYSANDER, L. 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. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment 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. And ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia feltSo he dissolved-and showers of oaths did melt.

[Suddenly rises.

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 expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight, thither and back again.

CURTAIN.
28

[Exit.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-AT PETER QUINCE'S HOUSE, IN ATHENS. QUINCE enters from the R., meeting SNUG, who enters from the L., followed at first by SNOUT and STARVELING, and afterward by FLUTE and BOTTOM.

Quin. Is all our company here?

Snug. 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 the duchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Star. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and sò grow to a point.

Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.

Snug. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors, by the scroll Masters, spread yourselves.

[They range themselves in a semicircle about QUINCE,,

who is C.

Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver.
[BOTTOM enters from L., in a hurry.
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 gallant for love.
Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If
I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms;
I will condole in some measure. Yet, my chief humor is for à

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