A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S

DREAM

William Shakespeare

ACT FIRST

SCENE I: Athens.—The palace of Theseus

[Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate
and Attendants.]

The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,

Long withering out a young man's revenue.
Hip.-Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

The.

Go, Philostrate,

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
The pale companion is not for our pomp.
[Exit Philostrate.
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries;

But I will wed thee in another key,

With pomp, with triumph and with revelling.

[Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander and
Demetrius.]

Ege.-Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
The.-Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee?
Ege.-Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her.

Stand forth, Lysander; and, my gracious duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her
rhymes

And interchanged love-tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stolen the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, con-

ceits;

Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messen

gers

Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth;

With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's

heart;

Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,

To stubborn harshness; and, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your Grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is mine, I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law
Immediately provided in that case.

The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair maid;
To you your father should be as a god;
One that composed your beauties; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.

Her. So is Lysander.

The.

In himself he is;

But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.

Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
The.

Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.

I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your Grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.

The. Either to die the death, or to abjure

Forever the society of men.

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,

Chanting faint hymns to the cold, fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood.
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,

Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will yield my virgin patent up