1 Fai. Hail, mortal! 2 Fai. Hail! 3 Fai. Hail! 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily.-I beseech your worship's name? Cob. Cobweb. 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,2 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 patience3 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 lover's tongue; bring him silently. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Part of the Wood. Enter OBERON. Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. 1 "I shall desire you of more acquaintance." This kind of phraseology was not uncommon. 2 A squash is an immature peascod. 3 The words are spoken ironically, as it was the prevailing opinion in Shakspeare's time, that mustard excited choler. Enter PUCK. Here comes my messenger.-How now, mad spirit! When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 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; Some, sleeves; some, hats; from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there; 1 Revelry. 2 A patch was a common contemptuous term. 3 Barren is dull, unpregnant. Sort is company. 4 A head. 5 The chough is a bird of the daw kind. Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latched1 the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? Puck. I took him sleeping,-that is finished, too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA. Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? 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. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, 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 stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe, as soon, This whole earth may be bored, and that the moon So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. Dem. So should the murdered look; and so should 1, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty. Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. Her. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? 1 Latched or letched, licked or smeared over. O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake. An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised 2 mood. 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. 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. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow, If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down. quite, And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight. Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true. Puck. Then fate o'errules; 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 cheer3 With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear." Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. 1 A touch anciently signified a trick. 2 "On a misprised mood," i. e. in a mistaken manner. 3 Cheer here signifies countenance, from cera (Ital.); [Exit. 4 Alluding to the ancient supposition, that every sigh was indulged at the expense of a drop of blood." Puck. Captain of our fairy band, And the youth mistook by me, Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Obe. 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 preposterously. 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 How can these things in me seem scorn to you, more. When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales, |