Lyf. Get you gone you dwarfe,

You minimus, of hindring knot graffe made,
You bead, you acorne.

Dem. You are too officious,

In her behalfe that fcornes your feruices.
Let her alone, fpeake not of Helena,

Take not her part. For if thou dost intend

Neuer fo little fhew of loue to her,
Thou shalt abie it.

Lyf. Now fhe holds me not,

Now follow if thou dar'ft, to try whose right,

Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.

Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile go with thee cheeke by iowle.
Her. You mistreffe, all this coyle is long of you.

Nay, goe not backe.

Her. I will not truft you I,

Not longer stay in your curft company.
Your hands than mine, are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though to runne away.

Her. I am amaz'd, and know not what to fay.
Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,
Or elfe commit'ft thy knaueries wilfully.

Puck. Beleeue me, king of fhaddowes, I miftooke.
Did not you tell me, I should know the man,
By the Athenian garments he hath on ?
And fo farre blameleffe proues my enterprize,
That I haue nointed an Athenians eyes,
And fo farre am I glad, it fo did fort,

As this their iangling I esteeme a sport.

Ob. Thou feest these louers feeke a place to fight,
Hie therefore Robin, ouercaft the night,

The starry welkin couer thou anon,
With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,

Exit.

Exeunt.

And

And leade these tefty riuals fo aftray,
As one come not within anothers way.
Like to Lyfander, fometime frame thy tongue,
Then ftirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;
And fometime raile thou like Demetrius;
And from each other looke thou leade them thus,
Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, fleepe
With leaden ledgs, and batty wings doth creepe;
Then crush this hearbe into Lyfanders eie,
Whofe liquor hath this vertuous property,
To take from thence all error, with his might,
And make his eie-bals rolle with wonted fight.
When they next wake, all this derifion
Shall feeme a dreame, and fruitleffe vifion,
And backe to Athens fhall the louers wend
With league, whofe date till death fhall neuer end.
Whiles I in this affaire do thee apply,

Ile to my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eie release

From monsters view, and all things fhall be peace.
Puck. My fairie lord, this must be done with hafte,
For night fwift dragons cut the clouds full faft,
And yonder fhines Auroras harbinger;

At whofe approch, ghofts wandring heere and there,
Troope home to church-yards; damned spirits all,
That in croffe waies and flouds haue buriall,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;

For feare leaft day fhould looke their fhames vpon,
They wilfully themfelues exile from light,
And must for aie confort with blacke browd night.
Ob. But we are fpirits of another fort:

I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,
And like a forrefter, the groues may tread,
Euen till the Easterne gate all fiery red,

Opening

Opening on Neptune, with faire bleffed beames,
Turnes into yellow gold, his falt greene streames.
But notwithstanding hafte, make no delay,

We may effect this bufineffe, yet ere day.

Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade them vp and downe: I am feard in field and towne. Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.

Enter Lyfander.

Lyf. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? Speak thou now. Rob. Here villaine, drawne and ready. Where art thou? Lys. I will be with thee straight.

Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.

Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lyfander, speake againe;

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speake in fome bufh. Where doft thou hide thy head?
Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for warres,
And wilt not come ? Come recreant, come thou childe,
Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd

That drawes a fword on thee.

Deme. Yea, art thou there?

Rob. Follow my voice, wee'l try no manhood here. Exeunt.

Lyf. He goes before me, and still dares me on,

When I come where he calles, then hee's gone.
The villaine is much lighter heel'd then I;
I followed faft, but fafter he did flie;
That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,
And here will reft me. Come thou gentle day :
For if but once thou fhew me thy gray light,
Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.

、;、,、ན་$

Robin and Demetrius.

Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not ?
Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'ft. For well I wot,
Thou runft before me, fhifting euery place,

And dar'ft not ftand, nor looke me in the face.
Where art thou?

Rob. Come hither, I am here.

De. Nay then thou mockst me; thou shalt buy this deare, If euer I thy face by day-light fee.

Now goe thy way: faintneffe conftraineth me,

Tó measure out my length on this cold bed,
By daies approch looke to be visited.

Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, ô long and tedious night,
Abate thy houres, fhine comforts from the East,
That I may backe to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poore company deteft;
And fleepe that fometimes fhuts vp forrowes eie,
Steale me a while from mine owne company.

Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,
Two of both kindes makes vp foure.
Here fhe comes, curft and fad,

Cupid is a knauifh lad,

Sleepe

Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore

females mad.

Her. Neuer fo weary, neuer fo in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew,

and torne with briars,

I can no further crawle, no further goe;

My legs can keepe no pace with my defires.
Here will I reft me till the breake of day,
Heauens fhield Lyfander, if they meane a fray.

Rob. On the ground fleepe found,

Ile apply your eye gentle louer, remedy.

When

When thou wak'ft, thou tak'st

True delight in the fight of thy former ladies eie,

And the country prouerbe knowne,

That euery man should take his owne,

In your waking shall be showne.

Jacke fhall haue lill, nought fhall go ill,

The man fhall haue his mare againe, and all shall be well.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them.

Tita. Come fit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,

While I thy amiable cheekes do coy,

And sticke muske roses in thy fleeke smoothe head,
And kiffe thy faire large ears, my gentle ioy.

Clowne. Where's Peafe-bloffome?

Peaf. Ready.

Clowne. Scratch my head, Peafe-bloffome. Wher's mounfieur Cobweb?

Cob. Ready.

Clo. Mounfieur Cobweb, good mounfieur get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red hipt humble-bee, on the top of a thistle; and good mounfieur bring me the hony bag. Doe not fret your felfe too much in the action, mounfieur; and good mounfieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag figniour. Where's mounfieur Mustardfeed?

Muf. Ready.

Clo. Giue me your neafe, mounsieur Mustardseed, Pray you leaue your courtefie, good monfieur.

Muft. What's your wil?

Clou. Nothing good mounfieur, but to helpe caualery Cobweb to fcratch. I must to the barbers mounfieur, for me-thinkes I am maruailous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender affe, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch.