« ZurückWeiter »
And to speak truth, I have forgot our way; We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be it so, Lysander : find you out a bed, For I upon this bank will rest my head.
Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us voth; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
Fler. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
Lys. 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.
Her. 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 !
Lys. 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! Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
[They sleep. Enter Puck. Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none,
Despised the Athenian maid ;
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit.
me thus. Hel. O, wilt thon darkling2 leave me? do not so. Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go.
[Exit Demetrius. Hel. 0, 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 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. Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet
sake. Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
(1) Possess. (2) In the dark.
Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
Hel. 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.
Lys. 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 marshall to my will, And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook Love's stories written in love's richest book.
Hel. 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. 0, that a lady, of one man refus'd, Should, of another, therefore be abus'd! (Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia :-Hermia, sleep thou
there; And never mays't 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. Her. [Starting.] Help me, Lysander, help me!
'do thy best, To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast ! Ah me, for pity !-wbat 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, remov'd? Lysander! lord ! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word? Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves ;l 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 1.—The same. The queen of fairies
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 tyring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke.
Bot. Peter Quince,
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’rlakin,2 a parlous3 fear.
Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
(1) By all that is dear. (2) By our ladykin. (3) Dangerous.
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.
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 ?
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 fearfull wild-fowl than your lion, living; and we ought to look to it.
Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
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. Il 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.
Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber : for you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moon-light.
Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we play our play?
Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine