Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running. Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. [Exit. Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; For beasts that meet me run away for fear: 90 100 Lys. [Awaking.] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Is that vile name to perish on my sword! Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent Who will not change a raven for a dove? 110 Things growing are not ripe until their season: And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, But fare you well: perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. Should of another therefore be abused! 120 130 [Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there: And never mayst thou come Lysander near! The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight! 140 [Exit. Her. [Awaking.] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! 150 Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. The wood. Titania lying asleep. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke. Bot. Peter Quince, Quin. What sayest thou, bully Bottom? Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? Snout. By'r lakin, a parlous fear. II Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear. 20 Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six. Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? Star. I fear it, I promise you. Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in-God shield us!-a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to 't. Snout. a lion. 30 Therefore another prologue must tell he is not Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,—' Ladies,' —or‘Fair ladies,—I would wish you,'—or 'I would request you,'—or 'I would entreat you,—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. 4 I Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement. 51 Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk though the chink of a wall. Snout, You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? 59 Bot. Some man or other must present Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake and so every one according to his cue. Enter PUCK behind. Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen? Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby stand forth. Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,— So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. 70 [Exit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. [Exit. Flu. Must I speak now? 82 Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. 6 Quin. Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, 'never tire.' 90 Flu. O,-As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. |