So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days: The more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek * upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. 3 Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go; Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit, of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed! Where shall we go? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, aud 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, $ gleek] Joke or scoff, deceive, or beguile. And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 2 Fai. Hail! 3 Fai. Hail! 4 Fai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worships mercy, heartily.-I beseech, your worship's name. Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb: If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.-Your name, honest gentle man? Peas. Peas-blossom. Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress Squash,* your mother, and master Peascod, your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir? Mus. Mustard-seed. Bot. Good master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like oxbeef 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, 4-mistress Squash,] A squash is an immature peascod, Lamenting some enforced chastity. SCENE II. Another part of the Wood. Enter OBERon. [Exeunt. Obe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. 6 Enter PUCK. Here comes my messenger.-How now, mad spirit? And forth my mimick comes: When they him spy, 6 5 What night-rule-] Night-rule in this place should 'seem to mean, what frolick of the night, what revelry is going forward? patches,] Patch was in old language used as a term of opprobry; perhaps with much the same import as we use raggamuffin, or tatterdemalion. 7 An ass's nowl-] a head. 8 Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,' And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong: I led them on in this distracted fear, Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. Puck. I took him sleeping,-that is finish'd too,And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd. 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 worse; For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. 8 9 1 choughs,] The chough is a bird of the daw kind. latch'd-] Or letch'd, lick'd over, lecher, to lick, Fr. In the North, it signifies to infect. 1 If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, The sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me: Would he have stol'n away This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the moon May through the center creep, and so displease Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty: Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? Dem. I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake; * Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping?] Hast thou kill'd him sleeping, whom, when awake, thou didst not dare to look upon? 30 brave touch!] Touch in Shakspeare's time was the same with our exploit, or rather stroke: but a touch anciently signified a trick. |