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1 Fai. Hail, mortal!
4 Fai. Hail!
Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily.—I beseech your worship's name?
Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance,1 good master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman?
Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash,2 your mother, and to master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience3 well. That same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed.
Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my lover's tongue; bring him silently.
SCENE II. Another Part of the Wood.
Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
1 "I shall desire you of more acquaintance." This kind of phraseology
was not uncommon.
2 A squash is an immature peascod.
3 The words are spoken ironically, as it was the prevailing opinion in Shakspeare's time, that mustard excited choler.
Here comes my messenger.-How now, mad spirit!
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, thus
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there;
3 Barren is dull, unpregnant. Sort is company. 5 The chough is a bird of the daw kind.
2 A patch was a common contemptuous term. 4 A head.
Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latched the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
Puck. I took him sleeping,-that is finished, too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.
Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA.
Obe. Stand close; this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
Her. Now I but chide, but I should use thee
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
The sun was not so true unto the day,
Dem. So should the murdered look; and so should 1,
Her. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
1 Latched or letched, licked or smeared over.
O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake.
Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised 2 mood.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A privilege, never to see me more.And from thy hated presence part I so,See me no more, whether he be dead or no.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein; Here, therefore, for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow, For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; Which now, in some slight measure, it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down.
Obe. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight.
Some true-love turned, and not a false turned true.
Puck. Then fate o'errules; that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer 3
1 A touch anciently signified a trick.
2 "On a misprised mood," i. e. in a mistaken manner.
3 Cheer here signifies countenance, from cera (Ital.).
4 Alluding to the ancient supposition, that every sigh was indulged at the expense of a drop of blood."
Obe. Stand aside; the noise they make,
Puck. Then will two at once woo one;
Enter LYSANDER and HELENA.
Lys. Why should you think, that I should woo in
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Hel. You do advance your cunning more and
When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray! These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh. Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.