Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  Hail!

  Mustardseed

  Hail!

  Bottom

  I cry your worship’s 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 had made my eyes water ere now. I desire your 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 awaked;

  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 answered,

  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 waked and straightway loved 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 waked, of force she must be eyed.

  Enter Hermia and Demetrius

  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 stolen away

  From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon

  This whole earth may be bored and that the moon

  May through the centre creep and so displease

  Her brother’s noontide with 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,

  Pierced 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 drivest 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 misprised 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

  An 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 and sleeps

  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 wakest, if she be by,

  Beg of her for remedy.

  Re-en
ter 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 preposterously.

  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

  [Awaking] O Helena, 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 congealed 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 loved 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.

  Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.

  Re-enter Hermia

  Hermia

  Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,

  The ear more quick of apprehension makes;

  Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,

  It pays the hearing double recompense.

  Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;

  Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound

  But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?

  Lysander

  Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?

  Hermia

  What love could press Lysander from my side?

  Lysander

  Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide,

  Fair Helena, who more engilds the night

  Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.

  Why seek’st thou me? could not this make thee know,

  The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?

  Hermia

  You speak not as you think: it cannot be.

  Helena

  Lo, she is one of this confederacy!

  Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three

  To fashion this false sport, in spite of me.

  Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!

  Have you conspired, have you with these contrived

  To bait me with this foul derision?

  Is all the counsel that we two have shared,

  The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent,

  When we have chid the hasty-footed time

  For parting us,— O, is it all forgot?

  All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?

  We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,

  Have with our needles created both one flower,

  Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,

  Both warbling of one song, both in one key,

  As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds,

  Had been incorporate. So we grow together,

  Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,

  But yet an union in partition;

  Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;

  So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;

  Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,

  Due but to one and crowned with one crest.

  And will you rent our ancient love asunder,

  To join with men in scorning your poor friend?

  It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly:

  Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,

  Though I alone do feel the injury.

  Hermia

  I am amazed at your passionate words.

  I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.

  Helena

  Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,

  To follow me and praise my eyes and face?

  And made your other love, Demetrius,

  Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,

  To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,

  Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this

  To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander

  Deny your love, so rich within his soul,

  And tender me, forsooth, affection,

  But by your setting on, by your consent?

  What though I be not so in grace as you,

  So hung upon with love, so fortunate,

  But miserable most, to love unloved?

  This you should pity rather than despise.

  Hermia

  I understand not what you mean by this.

  Helena

  Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,

  Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;

  Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:

  This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.

  If you have any pity, grace, or manners,

  You would not make me such an argument.

  But fare ye well: ’tis partly my own fault;

  Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

  Ly
sander

  Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:

  My love, my life my soul, fair Helena!

  Helena

  O excellent!

  Hermia

  Sweet, do not scorn her so.

  Demetrius

  If she cannot entreat, I can compel.

  Lysander

  Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:

  Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.

  Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:

  I swear by that which I will lose for thee,

  To prove him false that says I love thee not.

  Demetrius

  I say I love thee more than he can do.

  Lysander

  If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.

  Demetrius

  Quick, come!

  Hermia

  Lysander, whereto tends all this?

  Lysander

  Away, you Ethiope!

  Demetrius

  No, no; he’ll

  Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow,

  But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!

  Lysander

  Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,

  Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

  Hermia

  Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?

  Sweet love,—

  Lysander

  Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!

  Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!

  Hermia

  Do you not jest?

  Helena

  Yes, sooth; and so do you.

  Lysander

  Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.

  Demetrius

  I would I had your bond, for I perceive

  A weak bond holds you: I’ll not trust your word.

  Lysander

  What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?

  Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.

  Hermia

  What, can you do me greater harm than hate?

  Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love!

  Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander?

  I am as fair now as I was erewhile.

  Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me:

  Why, then you left me — O, the gods forbid!—

  In earnest, shall I say?

  Lysander

  Ay, by my life;

  And never did desire to see thee more.

  Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;

  Be certain, nothing truer; ’tis no jest

  That I do hate thee and love Helena.

  Hermia

  O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!

  You thief of love! what, have you come by night

  And stolen my love’s heart from him?

  Helena

  Fine, i’faith!

  Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,

  No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear

  Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?

  Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!

  Hermia

  Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.