The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind; So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-kneed, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable

Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,

In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:

Judge, when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar's Helena :

I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe The rite of May: and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity. But speak, Egeus; is not this the day

That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege. It is, my lord.

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.

[Horns, and shout within. DEMETRIUS, LYSANDER, HERMIA, and HELENA, wake and start up. Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past; Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? Lys. Pardon, my lord.

The.

[All kneel.

I pray you all, stand up.

I know, you two are rival enemies :

How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,

To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear I cannot truly say how I came here;

But, as I think, (for truly would I speak,
And now I do bethink me, so it is)

--

I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might
Without the peril of the Athenian law

Ege. Enough, enough! my lord, you have enough. I beg the law, the law, upon his head.

They would have stol'n away; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me;

You, of your wife, and me, of my consent,

Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them: <
Fair Helena in fancy follow'd me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia,
Melted as [doth] the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,

Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:

But, like in sickness, did I loath this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met.
Of this discourse we shall hear more anon.—
Egeus, I will overbear your will,

For in the Temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.

Away, with us, to Athens: three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.—

Come, Hippolyta.

[Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA,

EGEUS, and Train.

Dem. These things seem small, and undistinguish

able,

Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double.

Hel.

So methinks:

And I have found Demetrius, like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem.

It seems to me

That yet we sleep, we dream. -Do not you think The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Her. Yea; and my father.

Hel.

And Hippolyta.

Lys. And he did bid us follow to the Temple.

Dem. Why then, we

him;

are awake. Let's follow

[Exeunt. BOTTOM wakes.

And by the way let us recount our dreams.

Bot. When my cue

answer:

my next is,

ho! Peter Quince!

66

comes, call me, and I will Most fair Pyramus." — Hey, Flute, the bellows-mender!

Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stol'n hence, and left me asleep. I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was; man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,

and methought I had but man is but a patch'd fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive

nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Athens. A Room in QUINCE'S House.

Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marr'd. It goes not forward, doth it?'

Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus, but he.

Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.

Flu. You must say paragon: a paramour is, God bless us a thing of nought.

Enter SNUG.

Snug. Masters, the Duke is coming from the Temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

Flu. O, sweet bully Bottom! sixpence a-day during his life;

Thus hath he lost he could not have

'scaped sixpence a-day: an the Duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hang'd: he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter BOTTOM.

Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

Quin. Bottom !

most happy hour!

O most courageous day! O

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what; for, if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, [right] as it fell out.

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the Duke hath dined.

Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps: meet presently at the Palace: every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen, and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails; for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words: away! go; away! [Exeunt.