SCENE I.-Athens. A Room in 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, oh, 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 nights; 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 The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; [Exit PHILOSTRATE. 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 hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid: Το you your father should be as a god; One, that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one, To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power The. In himself he is: But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice, Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes. In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts: But I beseech your grace, that I may know The worst that may befal me in this case, The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. The. Take time to pause: and, by the next new moon, (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For aye, austerity and single life. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-And, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Why should not I then prosecute my right? Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it.-But, Demetrius, come; |