Текст книги "A Midsummer Night’s Dream"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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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 interchained 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 Robin.

ROBIN

Through the forest have I gone,

But Athenian found I none

On whose eyes I might approve

This flower’s force in stirring love.

He sees Lysander.

Night and silence! Who is here?

Weeds of Athens he doth wear.

This is he my master said

Despised 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.

He anoints Lysander’s eyelids

with the nectar.

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.      He exits.

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.      Demetrius exits.

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 blessed and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears.

If so, my eyes are oftener washed 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 up

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 swayed,

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 refused

Should of another therefore be abused!      She exits.

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 honor Helen and to be her knight.      He exits.

HERMIA, waking up

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 ate 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, an 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.

She exits.

ACT 3

Scene 1

With Titania still asleep onstage, enter the Clowns,

Bottom, Quince, Snout, Starveling, Snug, and Flute.

BOTTOM Are we all met?

QUINCE Pat, pat. And here’s a marvels 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 yourself,

to bring in (God shield us!) a lion among ladies is a

most dreadful thing. For there is not a more fearful

wildfowl than your lion living, and we ought to look

to ’t.

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 almanac.

Find out moonshine, find out moonshine.

Quince takes out a book.

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

roughcast about him to signify wall, or 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 Robin invisible to those onstage.

ROBIN, aside

What hempen homespuns have we swagg’ring 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.

BOTTOM, as Pyramus

Thisbe, the flowers of odious savors sweet—

QUINCE Odors, odors!

BOTTOM, as Pyramus

      …odors savors 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.      He exits.

ROBIN, aside

A stranger Pyramus than e’er played here.      He exits.

FLUTE 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.

FLUTE, as Thisbe

Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,

Of color 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.”

FLUTE O!

As Thisbe. As true as truest horse, that yet would never

tire.

Enter Robin, and Bottom as Pyramus with the

ass-head.

BOTTOM, as Pyramus

If I were fair, fair Thisbe, I were only thine.

QUINCE O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray,

masters, fly, masters! Help!

Quince, Flute, Snout, Snug, and Starveling exit.

ROBIN

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.

He exits.

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?      Snout exits.

Enter Quince.

QUINCE Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art

translated!      He exits.

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.

He sings.      The ouzel cock, so black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill,

The throstle with his note so true,

The wren with little quill—

TITANIA, waking up

What angel wakes me from my flow’ry bed?

BOTTOM sings

The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,

The plainsong 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 enamored of thy note,

So is mine eye enthralled 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 neighbors 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 pressed 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, Cobweb,

Moth, and Mustardseed.

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 glowworms’ 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, giantlike 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 wat’ry eye,

And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,

Lamenting some enforced chastity.

Tie up my lover’s tongue. Bring him silently.

They exit.

Scene 2

Enter Oberon, King of Fairies.

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 Robin Goodfellow.

Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit?

What night-rule now about this haunted grove?

ROBIN

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 entered in a brake.

When I did him at this advantage take,

An ass’s noll 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 latched the Athenian’s eyes

With the love juice, as I did bid thee do?

ROBIN

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.

OBERON

Stand close. This is the same Athenian.

ROBIN

This is the woman, but not this the man.

They step aside.

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 center creep and so displease

Her brother’s noontide with th’ Antipodes.

It cannot be but thou hast murdered him.

So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.

DEMETRIUS

So should the murdered 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 driv’st me past the bounds

Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then?

Henceforth be never numbered among men.

O, once tell true! Tell true, even for my sake!

Durst thou have looked upon him, being awake?

And hast thou killed 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 therefor?

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.

She exits.

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 bankrout sleep doth sorrow owe,

Which now in some slight measure it will pay,

If for his tender here I make some stay.

He lies down and falls asleep.

OBERON, to Robin

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 turned, and not a false turned true.

ROBIN

Then fate o’errules, 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.

ROBIN I go, I go, look how I go,

Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.      He exits.

OBERON, applying the nectar to Demetrius’ eyes

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 Robin.

ROBIN

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.

ROBIN

Then will two at once woo one.

That must needs be sport alone.

And those things do best please me

That befall prepost’rously.

They step aside.

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 up

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 congealed white, high Taurus’ snow,

Fanned 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 goodwill, 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 sojourned,

And now to Helen is it home returned,

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.

Enter Hermia.

HERMIA, to Lysander

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 conjoined 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 all forgot?

All schooldays’ 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 grew together

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,

But yet an union in partition,

Two lovely berries molded 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 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 you well. ’Tis partly my own fault,

Which death or absence soon shall remedy.

LYSANDER

Stay, gentle Helena. Hear my excuse,

My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena.

HELENA

O excellent!

HERMIA, to Lysander

Sweet, do not scorn her so.

DEMETRIUS, to Lysander

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?

She takes hold of Lysander.

LYSANDER

Away, you Ethiop!

DEMETRIUS, to Hermia

No, no. He’ll

Seem to break loose. To Lysander. Take on as you

would follow,

But yet come not. You are a tame man, go!

LYSANDER, to Hermia

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 med’cine! O, 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 turns him loose.

HERMIA

O me! To Helena. You juggler, you cankerblossom,

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

And stol’n 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.

Now I perceive that she hath made compare

Between our statures; she hath urged her height,

And with her personage, her tall personage,

Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him.

And are you grown so high in his esteem

Because I am so dwarfish and so low?

How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak!

How low am I? I am not yet so low

But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.

HELENA

I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,

Let her not hurt me. I was never curst;

I have no gift at all in shrewishness.

I am a right maid for my cowardice.

Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,

Because she is something lower than myself,

That I can match her.

HERMIA “Lower”? Hark, again!

HELENA

Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.

I evermore did love you, Hermia,

Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you—

Save that, in love unto Demetrius,

I told him of your stealth unto this wood.

He followed you; for love, I followed him.

But he hath chid me hence and threatened me

To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too.

And now, so you will let me quiet go,

To Athens will I bear my folly back

And follow you no further. Let me go.

You see how simple and how fond I am.

HERMIA

Why, get you gone. Who is ’t that hinders you?

HELENA

A foolish heart that I leave here behind.

HERMIA

What, with Lysander?

HELENA With Demetrius.

LYSANDER

Be not afraid. She shall not harm thee, Helena.

DEMETRIUS

No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.

HELENA

O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd.

She was a vixen when she went to school,

And though she be but little, she is fierce.

HERMIA

“Little” again? Nothing but “low” and “little”?

Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?

Let me come to her.

LYSANDER Get you gone, you dwarf,

You minimus of hind’ring knotgrass made,

You bead, you acorn—

DEMETRIUS You are too officious

In her behalf that scorns your services.

Let her alone. Speak not of Helena.

Take not her part. For if thou dost intend

Never so little show of love to her,

Thou shalt aby it.

LYSANDER Now she holds me not.

Now follow, if thou dar’st, to try whose right,

Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.

DEMETRIUS

“Follow”? Nay, I’ll go with thee, cheek by jowl.

Demetrius and Lysander exit.

HERMIA

You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.

Helena retreats.

Nay, go not back.

HELENA I will not trust you, I,

Nor longer stay in your curst company.

Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray.

My legs are longer though, to run away.      She exits.

HERMIA

I am amazed and know not what to say.      She exits.

OBERON, to Robin

This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak’st,

Or else committ’st thy knaveries willfully.

ROBIN

Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.

Did not you tell me I should know the man

By the Athenian garments he had on?

And so far blameless proves my enterprise

That I have ’nointed an Athenian’s eyes;

And so far am I glad it so did sort,

As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

OBERON

Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight.

Hie, therefore, Robin, overcast the night;

The starry welkin cover thou anon

With drooping fog as black as Acheron,

And lead these testy rivals so astray

As one come not within another’s way.