HER. O fpight! 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 fympathy in choice,
War, death, or fickness did lay fiege to it;
Making it momentary as a found,

Swift as a shadow, fhort as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n and earth,
And ere a man hath power to fay, BEROLD!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;

So quick bright things come to confusion.

HER. 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 fighs,

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 house remov'd feven leagues,

And the refpects me as her only fon.

There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the fharp Athenian law
Cannot purfue us. If thou lov'ft 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 obfervance to the morn of May,
There will I ftay for thee

HER. My good Lyfander,

I fwear to thee by Cupid's ftrongest bow,

By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the fimplicity of Venus' doves,

By that, which knitteth fouls, and prospers loves;
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,
When the falfe Trojan under fail was feen;
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke ;
In that fame place thou haft appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.

Lys. Keep promife, love. Look, here comes Helena.

SCENE III.

Enter Helena.

HER. God fpeed, fair Helena! whither away?
HEL. Call you me fair? that fair again unfay;
Demetrius loves you, fair; O happy fair!

Your eyes are lode ftars, and your tongue's fweet air
More tuneable than fark to fhepherd's ear,

When wheat is green, when haw-thorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching: O! 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 yoour tongue's sweet melody,
Were the world mine, Demetrius being 'bated,
The rest I'll give to be to you tranflated.

O teach me, how you look and with what art
You fway the motion of Demetrius' heart.

HER. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.

HEL. Oh, that your frowns would teach my fimiles fuch

HER. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.

HEL. Oh! that my pray'rs could fuch 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 no more fhall fee my face; Lyfander and myself will fly this place.

Before the time I did Lyfander fee

Seem'd Athens like a paradife 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 Phoebe doth behold
Her filver visage in the wat'ry glass;

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass;
(A time, that lovers flights doth ftill 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 bosoms of our counsels sweet;
There, my Lyfander, and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To feek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewel, fweet play-fellow; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lyfander-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 some, o'er other some, can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as the.

But what of that? Demetrius thinks not fo:
He will not know; what all, but he, do know.
And as he errs, doating on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.

Things bafe and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind
And therefore is wing'd 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 beguil❜d.
As waggish boys themselves in game forfwear,
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 some heat from Hermia felt,
So he diffolv'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.

SCENE IV.

Changes to a cottage.

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Starveling. QUIN. Is all our company here?

BOT. You were beft to call them generally man by man, according to the fcrip.

QUIN. Here is the fcrowl 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.

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

QUIN. Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

BOT. A very good piece of work, 'I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the fcrowl. 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 fet 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 afk fome 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 fome measure. To the reft;—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: