Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: A Midsummer Night's Dream (Quarto 1, 1600)
  • Editor: Suzanne Westfall
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-465-3

    Copyright Suzanne Westfall. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Suzanne Westfall
    Not Peer Reviewed

    A Midsummer Night's Dream (Quarto 1, 1600)

    A Midsommer nightes dreame.
    Her. I frowne vpon him; yet hee loues mee still.
    Hel. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skil.
    Her. I giue him curses; yet he giues mee loue.
    210Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue.
    Her. The more I hate, the more he followes mee.
    Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth mee.
    Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
    Hel. None but your beauty; would that fault were mine.
    215Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face:
    Lysander and my selfe will fly this place.
    Before the time I did Lisander see,
    Seem'd Athens as a Paradise to mee.
    O then, what graces in my loue dooe dwell,
    220That hee hath turnd a heauen vnto a hell!
    Lys. Helen, to you our mindes wee will vnfould:
    To morrow night, when Phoebe doth beholde
    Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse,
    Decking, with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse
    225(A time, that louers flights doth still conceale)
    Through Athens gates, haue wee deuis'd to steale.
    Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,
    Vpon faint Primrose beddes, were wont to lye,
    Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld,
    230There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete,
    And thence, from Athens, turne away our eyes,
    To seeke new friends and strange companions.
    Farewell, sweete playfellow: pray thou for vs:
    And good lucke graunt thee thy Demetrius.
    235Keepe word Lysander: we must starue our sight,
    From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.
    Exit Hermia.
    Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu:
    As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. Exit Lysander.
    240Hele. How happie some, ore othersome, can be!
    Through Athens, I am thought as faire as shee.
    But