728On the danke and durty ground.

729Pretty soule, she durst not lye

730Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.

731Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw

732All the power this charme doth owe:

733When thou wak'st, let loue forbid

734Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.

735So awake when I am gone:

736For I must now to Oberon. Exit.

738Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius.

739De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.

740Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so.

741De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.

743Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace,

744The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,

745Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;

746For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes.

747How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares.

748If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers.

749No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;

750For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,

751Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius

752Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus.

753What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine,

754Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?

755But who is here? Lysander on the ground;

756Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound,

757Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake.

758Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.

759Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art,

760That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart.

761Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word

762Is that vile name, to perish on my sword!

763Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so:

764What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?

765Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content.

766Lys. Content with Hermia? No, I do repent

767The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.

768Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;

769Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?

770The will of man is by his reason sway'd:

771And reason saies you are the worthier Maide.

772Things growing are not ripe vntill their season;

773So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,

774And touching now the point of humane skill,

775Reason becomes the Marshall to my will,

776And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke

777Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke.

778Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?

779When at your hands did I deserue this scorne?

780Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,

781That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,

782Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,

783But you must flout my insufficiency?

784Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)

785In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe.

786But fare you well; perforce I must confesse,

787I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.

788Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,

789Should of another therefore be abus'd. Exit.

790Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,

791And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere;

792For as a surfeit of the sweetest things

793The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings:

794Or as the heresies that men do leaue,

795Are hated most of those that did deceiue:

796So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie,

797Of all be hated; but the most of me;

798And all my powers addresse your loue and might,

799To honour Helen, and to be her Knight. Exit.

800Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best

801To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest.

802Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?

803Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:

804Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,

805And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.

806Lysander, what remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,

807What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?

808Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:

809Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare.

810No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,

811Either death or you Ile finde immediately. Exit.

814Bot. Are we all met?

815Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient

816place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our

817stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will

818do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.

819Bot. Peter quince?

820Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?

821Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and

822Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a

823sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.

824How answere you that?

825Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare.

826Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when

827all is done.

828Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.

829Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say,

830we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus

831is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance,

832tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the

833Weauer; this will put them out of feare.

834Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall

835be written in eight and sixe.

836Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight

837and eight.

838Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?

839Star. I feare it, I promise you.

840Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to

841bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most

842dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde

843foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke

844to it.

845Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not

846a Lyon.

847Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face

848must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe

849must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect;

850Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would

N4 request