Pard, or boare with briftled haire,
In thy eye that shall appeare,

When thou wak'ft, it is thy deare,

Wake when some vile thing is neere.

Enter Lyfander and Hermia.

Lyf. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in the woods, And to fpeake troth I haue forgot our way:

Wee'l reft vs Hermia, if you thinke it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.

Her. Be it fo Lyfander; finde you out a bed,
For I vpon this banke will rest my head

Lyf. One turffe fhall ferue as pillow for vs both,
One heart, one bed, two bofomes, and one troth.
Her. Nay good Lyfander, for my fake my deare
Lie further off yet, do not lie fo neere.

Lys. O take the fence sweete, of my innocence,
Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,

So that but one heart we can make of it.
Two bofomes interchained with an oath,
So then two bofomes, and a fingle troth.
Then by your fide, no bed-roome me deny,
For lying fo, Hermia, I do not lye.

Her. Lyfander riddles very prettily;

Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to fay, Lyfander lied.
But gentle friend, for loue and courtefie
Lie further off, in humane modefty,
Such feparation, as may well be faid,

Becomes a vertuous batchellor, and a maide,

So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;
Thy loue nere alter till thy fweet life ende.

Lyf. Amen, amen, to that faire praier, say I, And then end life, when I end loialty :

Heere is my bed, fleepe giue thee all his reft.

Her. With halfe that wifh, the wishers eyes be prest.

Enter Pucke.

Puck. Through the forreft haue I gone,

But Athenian finde I none,

On whofe eies I might approue

This flowers force in ftirring loue.

Night and filence: who is heere?
Weedes of Athens he doth weare:
This is he (my master said)
Despised the Athenian maide:
And heere the maiden fleeping found,
On the danke and dirty ground.
Pretty foule, fhe durft not lye
Neere this lack-loue, this kill-curtefie.
Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw

All the power this charme doth owe:
When thou wak'st, let loue forbid
Sleepe his feate, on thy eye-lid.

So awake when I am gone:

For I must now to Oberon.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Exit.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, fweete Demetrius.
Dem. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? Do not fo.
De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.

Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chafe,
The more my praier, the leffer is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoere fhe lies ;
For the hath bleffed and attractiue eyes.

How

How came her eyes fo bright? Not with falt teares.
If fo, my eies are oftner washt then hers.
No, no, I am as vgly as a beare;

For beafts that meete me, runne away for feare,
Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius
Do as a monster, flie my prefence thus.
What wicked and diffembling glaffe of mine,
Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?
But who is here, Lyfander on the ground?
Dead or afleepe? I fee no blood, no wound,
Lyfander, if you liue, good fir awake.

Lyf. And run through fire I will for thy fweet fake.
Tranfparant Helena, nature fhewes arte,

That through thy bosome makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word

Is that vile name, to perifh on my fword!

Hel. Do not fay fo Lyfander, fay not fo:

What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia ftill loues you; then be content.

Lys. Content with Hermia? No, I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena * now I loue;
Who will not change a rauen for a doue?
The will of man is by his reason fwai'd :
And reason faies you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe vntill their season ;
So I being young, till now ripe not to reason,
And touching now the point of humane skill,
Reason becomes the marshall to my will,
And leads me to your eyes, where I orelooke
Loues ftories, written in loues richest booke.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne ?
When at your hands did I deferue this scorne?

Ift not enough, ift not enough, young man,
That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
Deferue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,
But you must flout my infufficency?

Good troth you do me wrong (good-footh you do)
In fuch difdainful manner, me to wooe.

But fare you well; perforce I must confeffe,

I thought you lord of more true gentlenesse.
Oh, that a lady of one man refvs'd,

Should of another therefore be abus'd.

Exit.

Lys. She fees not Hermia: Hermia, fleepe thou there, And neuer maift thou come Lyfander neere;

For as a furfet of the sweetest things

The deepest loathing to the ftomacke brings;
Or as the herefies that men do leaue,
Are hated most of those they did deceiue:
So thou, my furfet, and my herefie,
Of all be hated; but the most of me;
And all my powers addreffe your loue and might,
To honour Helen, and to be her knight.

Her. Helpe me Lyfander, helpe me; do thy best
To plucke this crawling ferpent from my breft.
Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
Lyfander looke, how I do quake with feare:
Me-thought a ferpent eate my heart away,
And you fat fmiling at his cruell prey.
Lyfander, what remoou'd? Lyfander, Lord,
What, out of hearing, gone? No found, no word?
Alacke where are you? Speake and if you heare;
Speake of all loues; I fwound almost with feare.
No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
Eyther death or you ile finde immediately.

Enter the Clownes.·

Exit.

Exit.

Bot. Are we all met?

Quin. Pat, pat, and heres a maruailous conuenient place for our rehearsall. This greene plot fhall be our stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring houfe, and we will doe it in action, as we will do it before the duke.

Bot. Peter Quince?

Peter. What faift thou, bully Bottome?

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a fword to kill himfelfe; which the ladyes cannot abide. How anfwer you that?

Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare.

Star. I beleeue we muft leaue the killing out, when all is done.

Write

Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. me a prologue, and let the prologue feeme to say, wee will do no harme with our fwords, and that Pyramus is not kild indeed and for the more better affurance, tell them that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the weauer; this will put them out of feare.

Quin. Well, we will haue fuch a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and fixe.

Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight.

Snont. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lyon?

Star. I feare it, I promise you.

Bot. Masters, you ought to confider with your felfe, to bring in (God fhield vs) a lyon among ladies, is a moft dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde fowle then your lyon liuing: and we ought to looke to it.

Snout. Therefore another prologue muft tell he is not a lyon.

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seen through the lyons necke, and hee himselfe must fpeake through, faying thus, or to the fame deffect; Ladies,

or