A Midsummer Night's Dream - 2

And I am sick when I look not on you.
DEMETRIUS.
You do impeach your modesty too much
To leave the city and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not,
To trust the opportunity of night.
And the ill counsel of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.
HELENA.
Your virtue is my privilege: for that.
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you, in my respect, are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone
When all the world is here to look on me?
DEMETRIUS.
I’ll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
HELENA.
The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be chang’d;
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin, the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger. Bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues and valour flies!
DEMETRIUS.
I will not stay thy questions. Let me go,
Or if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
HELENA.
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.
We cannot fight for love as men may do.
We should be woo’d, and were not made to woo.
[_Exit Demetrius._]
I’ll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well.
[_Exit Helena._]
OBERON.
Fare thee well, nymph. Ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.
Enter Puck.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
PUCK.
Ay, there it is.
OBERON.
I pray thee give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine.
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
And with the juice of this I’ll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth. Anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
PUCK.
Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so.
[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. Another part of the wood
Enter Titania with her Train.
TITANIA.
Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
Then for the third part of a minute, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some war with reremice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
Fairies sing.
FIRST FAIRY.
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen:
CHORUS.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby:
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night, with lullaby.
FIRST FAIRY.
Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence.
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail do no offence.
CHORUS.
Philomel with melody, &c.
SECOND FAIRY.
Hence away! Now all is well.
One aloof stand sentinel.
[_Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps._]
Enter Oberon.
OBERON.
What thou seest when thou dost wake,
[_Squeezes the flower on Titania’s eyelids._]
Do it for thy true love take;
Love and languish for his sake.
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak’st, it is thy dear.
Wake when some vile thing is near.
[_Exit._]
Enter Lysander and Hermia.
LYSANDER.
Fair love, you faint with wand’ring in the wood.
And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way.
We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
HERMIA.
Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will rest my head.
LYSANDER.
One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
HERMIA.
Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
LYSANDER.
O take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Love takes the meaning in love’s conference.
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit,
So that but one heart we can make of it:
Two bosoms interchainèd with an oath,
So then two bosoms and a single troth.
Then by your side no bed-room me deny;
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
HERMIA.
Lysander riddles very prettily.
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied!
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off, in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end!
LYSANDER.
Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed. Sleep give thee all his rest!
HERMIA.
With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be pressed!
[_They sleep._]
Enter Puck.
PUCK.
Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower’s force in stirring love.
Night and silence! Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despisèd the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul, she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe;
When thou wak’st let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon.
[_Exit._]
Enter Demetrius and Helena, running.
HELENA.
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
DEMETRIUS.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
HELENA.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.
DEMETRIUS.
Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go.
[_Exit Demetrius._]
HELENA.
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 blessèd and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears.
If so, my eyes are oftener wash’d than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear,
For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander, on the ground!
Dead or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
LYSANDER.
[_Waking._] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
HELENA.
Do not say so, Lysander, say not so.
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loves you. Then be content.
LYSANDER.
Content with Hermia? No, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena I love.
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway’d,
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season;
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes, where I o’erlook
Love’s stories, written in love’s richest book.
HELENA.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well; perforce I must confess,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady of one man refus’d,
Should of another therefore be abus’d!
[_Exit._]
LYSANDER.
She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there,
And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings;
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive;
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!
[_Exit._]
HERMIA.
[_Starting._] 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!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! What, removed? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? Gone? No sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? Speak, and if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh.
Either death or you I’ll find immediately.
[_Exit._]

ACT III
SCENE I. The Wood.
The Queen of Fairies still lying asleep.
Enter Bottom, Quince, Snout, Starveling, Snug and Flute.
BOTTOM.
Are we all met?
QUINCE.
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.
BOTTOM.
Peter Quince?
QUINCE.
What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
BOTTOM.
There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe 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.
STARVELING.
I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
BOTTOM.
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.
QUINCE.
Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight
and six.
BOTTOM.
No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
SNOUT
Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
STARVELING.
I fear it, I promise you.
BOTTOM.
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
it.
SNOUT
Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
BOTTOM.
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.
QUINCE.
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 Thisbe meet by
moonlight.
SNOUT
Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
BOTTOM.
A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out moonshine, find
out moonshine.
QUINCE.
Yes, it doth shine that night.
BOTTOM.
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.
QUINCE.
Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, 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 Thisbe, says the story, did talk through the chink of a
wall.
SNOUT
You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
BOTTOM.
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 Thisbe
whisper.
QUINCE.
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 everyone according to his cue.
Enter Puck behind.
PUCK.
What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here,
So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
What, a play toward? I’ll be an auditor;
An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
QUINCE.
Speak, Pyramus.—Thisbe, stand forth.
PYRAMUS.
_Thisbe, the flowers of odious savours sweet_
QUINCE.
Odours, odours.
PYRAMUS.
_. . . odours savours sweet.
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisbe dear.
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
And by and by I will to thee appear._
[_Exit._]
PUCK.
A stranger Pyramus than e’er played here!
[_Exit._]
THISBE.
Must I speak now?
QUINCE.
Ay, marry, must you, For you must understand he goes but to see a noise
that he heard, and is to come again.
THISBE.
_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._
QUINCE.
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.’
THISBE.
O, _As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire._
Enter Puck and Bottom with an ass’s head.
PYRAMUS.
_If I were fair, Thisbe, I were only thine._
QUINCE.
O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters, fly, masters!
Help!
[_Exeunt Clowns._]
PUCK.
I’ll follow you. I’ll lead you about a round,
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;
Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
[_Exit._]
BOTTOM.
Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me afeard.
Enter Snout.
SNOUT
O Bottom, thou art changed! What do I see on thee?
BOTTOM.
What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you?
[_Exit Snout._]
Enter Quince.
QUINCE.
Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! Thou art translated.
[_Exit._]
BOTTOM.
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,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill.
TITANIA.
[_Waking._] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
BOTTOM.
[_Sings._]
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay.
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?
TITANIA.
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note.
So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
BOTTOM.
Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that. And yet, to
say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
The more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them
friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
TITANIA.
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
BOTTOM.
Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I
have enough to serve mine own turn.
TITANIA.
Out of this wood do not desire to go.
Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate.
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me.
I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep.
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.—
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Enter four Fairies.
PEASEBLOSSOM.
Ready.

COBWEB.
And I.

MOTH.
And I.

MUSTARDSEED.
And I.

ALL.
Where shall we go?
TITANIA.
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,
And for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

PEASEBLOSSOM.
Hail, mortal!

COBWEB.
Hail!

MOTH.
Hail!

MUSTARDSEED.
Hail!
BOTTOM.
I cry your worships mercy, heartily.—I beseech your worship’s name.
COBWEB.
Cobweb.
BOTTOM.
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?
PEASEBLOSSOM.
Peaseblossom.
BOTTOM.
I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master
Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of
more acquaintance too.—Your name, I beseech you, sir?
MUSTARDSEED.
Mustardseed.
BOTTOM.
Good Master Mustardseed, 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
of more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.
TITANIA.
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.
OBERON.
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?
What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
PUCK.
My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort
Who Pyramus presented in their sport,
Forsook his scene and enter’d in a brake.
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass’s nole I fixed on his head.
Anon, his Thisbe must be answerèd,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So at his sight away his fellows fly,
And at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears, thus 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.
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania wak’d, and straightway lov’d an ass.
OBERON.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch’d 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.
OBERON.
Stand close. This is the same Athenian.
PUCK.
This is the woman, but not this the man.
DEMETRIUS.
O why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
HERMIA.
Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse,
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o’er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me. Would he have stol’n away
From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bor’d, and that the moon
May through the centre creep and so displease
Her brother’s noontide with th’ Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murder’d him.
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
DEMETRIUS.
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.
HERMIA.
What’s this to my Lysander? Where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
DEMETRIUS.
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
HERMIA.
Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv’st me past the bounds
Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number’d among men!
O once tell true; tell true, even for my sake!
Durst thou have look’d upon him, being awake,
And hast thou kill’d him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
DEMETRIUS.
You spend your passion on a mispris’d mood:
I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood;
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
HERMIA.
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
DEMETRIUS.
And if I could, what should I get therefore?
HERMIA.
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._]
DEMETRIUS.
There is no following her in this fierce vein.
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
[_Lies down._]
OBERON.
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.
OBERON.
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 costs the fresh blood dear.
By some illusion see thou bring her here;
I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear.
PUCK.
I go, I go; look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.
[_Exit._]
OBERON.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.—
When thou wak’st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Puck.
PUCK.
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover’s fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
OBERON.
Stand aside. The noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
PUCK.
Then will two at once woo one.
That must needs be sport alone;
And those things do best please me
That befall prepost’rously.
Enter Lysander and Helena.
LYSANDER.
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?
HELENA.
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.
LYSANDER.
I had no judgment when to her I swore.
HELENA.
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er.
LYSANDER.
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
DEMETRIUS.
[_Waking._] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealèd white, high Taurus’ snow,
Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold’st up thy hand. O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
HELENA.
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil, and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes
With your derision! None of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.
LYSANDER.
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so,
For you love Hermia; this you know I know.
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love and will do till my death.
HELENA.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
DEMETRIUS.
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none.
If e’er I lov’d her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn’d;
And now to Helen is it home return’d,
There to remain.
LYSANDER.
Helen, it is not so.
DEMETRIUS.
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest to thy peril thou aby it dear.