A Midsummer Night's Dream

And tragical, my noble lord, it is; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself; Which when I saw rehears’d, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed.

Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bed-time? Where is our usual manager of mirth?

Every fairy take his gait, And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace, And the owner of it blest Ever shall in safety rest. Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by break of day.

I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatch’d. This palpable-gross play hath well beguil’d The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.

If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.

If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.

Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief? That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord?

Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide.

Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? What masque? What music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Since lion vild hath here deflow’r’d my dear; Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame That liv’d, that lov’d, that lik’d, that look’d with cheer.

Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.

The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to aery nothing A local habitation and a name.

This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall, which did these lovers sunder; And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.

Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light, Moon, take thy flight,

You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.

DEM. These things seem small and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. HER. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double.

Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush suppos’d a bear!

And that same dew which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flouriets’ eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.

But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will forevermore be true to it.

For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully themselves exile from light, And must for aye consort with black-brow’d Night.

I can no further crawl, no further go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

Now thou and I are new in amity, And will tomorrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity.

When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I; I followed fast, but faster he did fly, That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me.

When thou wak’st, Thou tak’st True delight In the sight Of thy former lady’s eye; And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own, In your waking shall be shown. Jack shall have Jill; Nought shall go ill: The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.

A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes With your derision! None of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.

As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; So with two seeming bodies, but one heart, Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.

Ay, by my life; And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certain! Nothing truer; ’tis no jest That I do hate thee, and love Helena.

That pure congealed white, high Taurus’ snow, Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold’st up thy hand. O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone. And those things do best please me That befall prepost’rously.

What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate (But miserable most, to love unlov’d)? This you should pity rather than despise.

Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love (so rich within his soul) And tender me (forsooth) affection, But by your setting on, by your consent?

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.

Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it! For with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me. Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon This whole earth may be bor’d, and that the moon May through the centre creep, and so displease Her brother’s noontide with th’ Antipodes.

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 bankrout sleep doth sorrow owe; Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.

Be kind and courteous to this gentleman, Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise;

For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive,

He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong, For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;

Why then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open; and the moon may shine in at the casement.

Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather do I not in plainest truth Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you?

Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies, For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears; If so, my eyes are oft’ner wash’d than hers.

In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well; perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. O that a lady, of one man refus’d, Should of another therefore be abus’d!

One turf shall serve as pillow for us both, One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine; There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;

The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees.

The will of man is by his reason sway’d; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season, So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;

Two bosoms interchained with an oath, So then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed-room me deny; For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.

We cannot fight for love, as men may do. We should be woo’d, and were not made to woo. Exit Demetrius. I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.

Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay