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Hır. O spight! too old, to be engag'd to young !
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends
Her. O hell!' to chuse love by another's eye!

Lys. Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
Wars death, or fickdess did lay lege to it;
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n and earth,
And ere a mao hath power to fay, BEROLD!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confusion.-

Heg. If then true lovers have been ever croft,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then, let us teach our tryal patience;
Because it is a customary cross,
As due to love, as thoughts and dreams and lighs,
Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers !

Lys. A good persuasion—therefore hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow-aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child;
From Athens is her bouse remov'd seveo leagues,
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lov'st me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena
To do observance to the morn of May,
There will I stay for thee

Her. My good Lysander,

I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
By that, which knitteth fouls, and prospers loves ;
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,
When the false Trojan under fail was seen;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke ;
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.

Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helema.

SCENE III.

Enter Helena.

Her. God speed, fair Helena! whither away?

Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay;
Demetrius loves you, fair; O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode stars, and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than fark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when haw-thorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching: 0! were favour so!
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye;
My tongue should catch yooor tongue's sweet melody,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being 'bated,
The rest I'll give to be to you translated.
O teach me, how you look : and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
HEL. Oh, that your frowns would teach my fimiles such

skill!

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Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
Hel. Oh! that my pray’rs could such affection move !
Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
Hel. None, but your beauty : would that fault were

mine!
Hir. Take comfort; he so more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander fee
Seçm'd Athens like a paradise to me.
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven into hell ?

Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold :
To-morrow night, when Phæbe doth behold
Her filver visage in the wat'ry glass ;
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass ;
(A time, that lovers flights doth still conceal)
Through Athens' gate have we devis’d to steal.

HER. And in the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lye,
Emptying our bofoms of our counsels sweet ;
There, my Lysander, and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewel, sweet play-fellow; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander We must starve our fight
From lover's food, till morrow deep midnight

(Exit. Hermia. Lys. I will, my Hermia-Helena, adieu ; As you on him, Demetrius doat on you! (Exit Lyf.

HEL. How happy fome, o'er other some, can be !
Through Athens I am thought as fair as lhe.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks got so:
He will not know; what all, but he, do know.
And as he errs, doating oa Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quaatity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind
And therefore is wing a Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste;
And therefore is love faid to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguild.
As waggish boys themselves in game forswear,
So the boy love is perjur'd every where.
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine;
And when this hail fome heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expence.
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his fight thither, and back again.

(Exit

SCEN E IV.

Changes to a cottage.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Starveling.

QUIN. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were best to call them generally man by man, according to the fcrip.

Quin. Here is the scrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and dutchess, on his wedding-day at night. !

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, fay what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors, and so grow on to a point.

Quin. Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thilby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, 'I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scrowl. Masters, fpread yourselves.

Quin. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready: 'name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it; if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I will condole in some measure. To the

-yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cap in: To make all split:

rest;

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