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30
Popular Summer Poems
Summer
Poem 1
Shakespearean
Sonnet 18
("Shall
I compare thee...")
Shall
I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
- William
Shakespeare |
Summer
Poem 2
Shakespearean
Sonnet 94
("They
that have power to hurt...")
They
that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.
- William
Shakespeare |
Summer
Poem 3
Shakespearean
Sonnet 94
("They
that have power...")
They
that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
- William
Shakespeare |
Summer
Poem 4
The
Soote Season
The
soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
The turtle to her make hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs,
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes flete with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she slings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flyes smale;
The busy bee her honey now she mings,
Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
- Henry
Howard, Earl of Surrey |
Summer
Poem 5
On
the Grasshopper and Cricket
The
poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury,--he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
~ John
Keats |
Summer
Poem 6
To
the Grasshopper and the Cricket
O
Green little vaulter in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class
With those who think the candles come too soon,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune
Nick the glad silent moments as they pass;
Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong
One to the fields, the other to the hearth,
Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strong
At your clear hearts; and both were sent on earth
To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song:
Indoors and out, summer and winter,--Mirth.
~ Leigh
Hunt
(*
The above sonnet was written in competition with John Keats') |
Summer
Poem 7
The
Knight's Tomb
Where
is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?--
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone,--and the birch in its stead is grown.--
The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;--
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
~ Samuel Taylor
Coleridge
|
Summer
Poem 8
To
Summer
O
thou who passest thro' our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched'st here thy goldent tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Beneath
our thickest shades we oft have heard
Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
Rode o'er the deep of heaven; beside our springs
Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on
Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.
Our
bards are fam'd who strike the silver wire:
Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.
~ William
Blake |
Summer
Poem 9
"Belovèd,
thou hast brought me many flowers..."
Belovèd,
thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,
Here's ivy!--take them, as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,
And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.
~
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
|
Summer
Poem 10
Bed
In Summer
In
winter I get up at night,
And
dress by yellow candle light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day,
I
have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown up people's feet
Still going past me in the street,
And
does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
~ Robert
Louis Stevenson |
Summer
Poem 11
It
can't be "Summer"!
It
can't be "Summer"!
That -- got through!
It's early -- yet -- for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White -- to cross --
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge --
The Dead shall go in White --
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!
~ Emily
Dickinson |
Summer
Poem 12
'Twas
here my summer paused
'Twas
here my summer paused
What ripeness after then
To other scene or other soul
My sentence had begun.
To
winter to remove
With winter to abide
Go manacle your icicle
Against your Tropic Bride.
~ Emily
Dickinson |
Summer
Poem 13
'Twas
here my summer went
'Twas
later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came --
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home --
'Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps esoteric Time.
~ Emily
Dickinson |
Summer
Poem 14
The
Wheel
Through
winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter's best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come -
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
~ William
Butler Yeats |
Summer
Poem 15
Skating
Spring
is past, and Summer's past,
Autumn's come, and going;
Weather seems as though at last
We might get some snowing.
Spring was good, and Summer better,
But the best of all is waiting,-
Madame Winter-don't forget her.-
O
You
Skating!
Spring we welcomed when we met,
Summer was a blessing;
Autumn points to school, but yet
Let's be acquiescing.
Spring had many precious pleasures;
Winter's on a different rating;
She has greater, richer treasures,-
O
You
Skating!
Gleam of ice, and glint of steel,
Jolly, snappy weather;
Glide on ice and joy of zeal,
All, alone, together.
Fickle Spring! Who can imprint her?-
Faithless while she's captivating;
Here's to trusty Madame Winter.-
O
You
Skating!
~ Ellis
Parker Butler |
Summer
Poem 16
In
spring and summer winds may blow
In
spring and summer winds may blow,
And rains fall after, hard and fast;
The tender leaves, if beaten low,
Shine but the more for shower and blast
But
when their fated hour arrives,
When reapers long have left the field,
When maidens rifle turn'd-up hives,
And their last juice fresh apples yield,
A
leaf perhaps may still remain
Upon some solitary tree,
Spite of the wind and of the rain . . .
A thing you heed not if you see.
At
last it falls. Who cares? Not one:
And yet no power on earth can ever
Replace the fallen leaf upon
Its spray, so easy to dissever.
If
such be love, I dare not say.
Friendship is such, too well I know:
I have enjoyed my summer day;
'Tis past; my leaf now lies below.
~ Walter
Savage Landor |
Summer
Poem 17
Invern
Earth's
winter cometh
And I being part of all
And sith the spirit of all moveth in me
I must needs bear earth's winter
Drawn cold and grey with hours
And joying in a momentary sun,
Lo I am withered with waiting till my spring cometh!
Or crouch covetous of warmth
O'er scant-logged ingle blaze,
Must take cramped joy in tomed Longinus
That, read I him first time
The woods agleam with summer
Or mid desirous winds of spring,
Had set me singing spheres
Or made heart to wander forth among warm roses
Or curl in grass next neath a kindly moon.
~ Ezra
Pound |
Summer
Poem 18
Mother,
Summer, I
My
mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,
And
I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.
~
Philip Larkin |
Summer
Poem 19
Farm
Boy After Summer
A
seated statue of himself he seems.
A bronze slowness becomes him. Patently
The page he contemplates he doesn't see.
The
lesson, the long lesson, has been summer.
His mind holds summer, as his skin holds sun.
For once the homework, all of it, was done.
What
were the crops, where were the fiery fields
Where for so many days so many hours
The sun assaulted him with glittering showers.
Expect
a certain absence in his presence.
Expect all winter long a summer scholar,
For scarcely all its snows can cool that color.
~ Robert
Francis |
Summer
Poem 20
Irony
An
arid daylight shines along the beach
Dried to a grey monotony of tone,
And stranded jelly-fish melt soft upon
The sun-baked pebbles, far beyond their reach
Sparkles a wet, reviving sea. Here bleach
The skeletons of fishes, every bone
Polished and stark, like traceries of stone,
The joints and knuckles hardened each to each.
And they are dead while waiting for the sea,
The moon-pursuing sea, to come again.
Their hearts are blown away on the hot breeze.
Only the shells and stones can wait to be
Washed bright. For living things, who suffer pain,
May not endure till time can bring them ease.
~ Amy
Lowell |
Summer
Poem 21
In
the Good Old Summertime
In the good old summertime,
in the good old summertime.
Strolling through the shady lanes with your baby mine.
You hold her hand, and she holds yours,
and that's a very good sign.
That she's your tootsie wootsie,
in the good old summertime.
In
the good old summertime,
in the good old summertime.
Strolling through the shady lanes with your baby mine.
You hold her hand, and she holds yours,
and that's a very good sign.
She will be your tootsie wootsie,
in the good old summertime.
~
George Evans & Ren Shields |
Summer
Poem 22
I
Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart
I
know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.
Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,
I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
That you may hail anew the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else will you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.
~ Edna
St. Vincent Millay |
Summer
Poem 23
Song—My
Bonie Bell
The
smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies;
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
And bonie blue are the sunny skies.
Fresh o’er the mountains breaks forth the morning,
The ev’ning gilds the ocean’s swell;
All creatures joy in the sun’s returning,
And I rejoice in my bonie Bell.
The
flowery Spring leads sunny Summer,
The yellow Autumn presses near;
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
Till smiling Spring again appear:
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and Nature their changes tell;
But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my bonie Bell.
~
Robert Burns |
Summer
Poem 24
The
Oven Bird
There
is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
he says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.
~ Robert
Frost
|
Summer
Poem 25
Midsummer
A
power is on the earth and in the air
From which the vital spirit shrinks afraid,
And shelters him, in nooks of deepest shade,
From the hot steam and from the fiery glare.
Look forth upon the earth--her thousand plants
Are smitten; even the dark sun-loving maize
Faints in the field beneath the torrid blaze;
The herd beside the shaded fountain pants;
For life is driven from all the landscape brown;
The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den,
The trout floats dead in the hot stream, and men
Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town;
As if the Day of Fire had dawned, and sent
Its deadly breath into the firmament.
~
William Cullen Bryant |
Summer
Poem 26
Summer
Dawn
Pray
but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn,
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
~
William Morris |
Summer
Poem 27
Summer
Now
day survives the sun. The pale grey skies
A sort of dull and dubious lustre keep
As with their own light shining. Nature lies
Slumbering, and gazing on me in her sleep,
So still, so mute, with fixed and soul-less eyes.
The sun is set, yet not a star is seen:
Distinct the landscape, save where intervene
The creeping mists that from the dark stream rise;
Now spread into a sea with islets broken,
And woodland points, now poised on the thin air:
In the black west the clouds a storm betoken
And all things seem a spectral gloom to wear.
The cautious bat resents the lingering light,
And the long-folded sheep wonder it is not night.
~
Josiah Conder |
Summer
Poem 28
"A
roadside inn this summer Saturday..."
The
doors are open to the wide warm air,
The parlour, whose old window views the bay,
Garnished with cracked delph full of flowers fair
From the fields round, and whence you see the glare
Fall heavy on the hot slate roofs and o'er
The wall's tree shadows drooping in the sun.
Now rumbles slowly down the dusty street
The lazy drover's clattering cart; and crows
Fainter through afternoon the cock; with hoes
Tan-faced harvest folk trudge in the heat:
The neighbours at their shady doors swept clean,
Gossip, and with cool eve fresh scents of wheat,
Grasses and leaves, come from the meadows green.
~
Thomas Caulfield Irwin |
Summer
Poem 29
High
Summer
I
never wholly feel that summer is high,
However green the trees, or loud the birds,
However movelessly eye-winking herds
Stand in field ponds, or under large trees lie,
Till I do climb all cultured pastures by,
That hedged by hedgerows studiously fretted trim,
Smile like a lady's face with lace laced prim,
And on some moor or hill that seeks the sky
Lonely and nakedly,--utterly lie down,
And feel the sunshine throbbing on body and limb,
My drowsy brain in pleasant drunkenness swim,
Each rising thought sink back and dreamily drown,
Smiles creep o'er my face, and smother my lips, and cloy,
Each muscle sink to itself, and separately enjoy.
~
Ebenezer Jones |
Summer
Poem 30
Early
Summer
’Tis
the early summer season, when the skies are clear and blue;
When wide warm fields are glad with corn as green as ever grew,
And upland growths of wattles engolden all the view.
Oh!
Is there conscious joyance in that heven so clearly blue?
And is it a felt happiness that thus comes beating through
Great nature’s mother heart, when the golden year is new?
When
the woods are whitened over by the jolly cockatoo,
And swarm with birds as beautiful as ever gladdened through
The shining hours of time when the golden year was new?
~ Charles
Harpur |
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When
the subject is a combination of 'SUMMER' & 'Literature', how do one dare
to omit such a timeless Shakeapearen masterpiece - ' A Midsummer Night's
Dream ' ?! It can bring in summer around you, at any time of the year...
Read
it to believe it...
Per Bevington :
Written c. 1594-1595. Involves four subplot elements: the courtly marriage
of Theseus and Hippolyta, the four young lovers, Titania, Oberon, and the other
fairies, and the rude mechanicals and their play.
Setting : Athens
in classical era; Theseus is the duke. [He was the legendary king, contemporary
of Hercules and national Athenian hero prior to the Trojan War--they had fought
the Amazons together and he brought back their conquered queen Hippolyta (in
some versions Antiope) to be his bride.]
The
Summary
Act I Scene 1
Theseus' court. The wedding of Theseus
and Hippolyta is to be held in four days with the coming of the new moon. Egeus,
whose dark-complexioned daughter is Hermia, requests of Theseus the ancient
privilege of selecting Demetrius as her husband rather than Lysander, despite
their expressed love for each other. Theseus explains the Athenian law to Hermia:
that she must marry as her father requests, become a nun, or be executed. Lysander
reminds the duke that Demetrius had previously wooed the fair-skinned Helena
and then rejected her. Lysander and Hermia resolve secretly to flee Athens to
his aunt, and will meet in the woods outside the town then following night.
Helena arrives and berates her old friend Hermia for stealing the affections
of Demetrius, but Hermia denies responsibility and reveals their plan to elope.
Helena resolves to tell Demetrius of the elopement [inexplicably, but perhaps
to convince him to give up on Hermia].
Act I Scene 2
Athens.
The rustics Quince the carpenter, Snug the joiner, Bottom the weaver, Flute
the bellows mender, and Snout the tinker join up to plan their "interlude"
they wish to perform before the duke in celebration of his wedding. It will
be a depiction of the tragic demise of Babylonian neighbors and lovers, Pyramus
and Thisbe [derived from Ovid]. Bottom will play Pyramus and Flute his lover.
Bottom wishes to have more roles and more action to depict. They resolve to
rehearse secretly in the palace woods the following day's night.
Act II Scene 1
The woods, presumably the next day's
night. Puck (named Robin Goodfellow), encounters a fairy in the woods. He works
for Oberon, the fairy king, and the other for Titania, the fairy queen--they
have arrived for the royal wedding. Puck warns not to let Titania encounter
Oberon: he is angry because she has denied to him the Indian changeling child
now under her protection (his mother was one of Titania's worshippers and died
in childbirth). They discuss Puck's various mischievous roles (e.g., misleading
night travelers [as Jack o' Lantern and Will o' the Wisp]). Titania encounters
Oberon and they exchange barbs about their past love for Theseus and Hippolyta,
resp. Their antagonism is causing contagious fogs, rheumatism, and other regional
problems. Oberon wants the child to be his own henchman, but Titania again refuses.
Oberon plots revenge on Titania, and instructs Puck to gather the magical love-in-idleness
flower, on which Cupid's arrow once landed. Demetrius arrives chased by Helena,
whom he rudely rejects. Oberon instructs Puck to place the magic drops on the
disdainful Athenian's eyelids, i.e., Demetrius'.
Act II Scene 2
Titania prepares to retire, and her fairies
sing her to sleep. Oberon steals in and squeezes the flower onto her eyelids.
Lysander and Hermia arrive [they do not see Titania]. They have lost their way
and decide to sleep till morning. She modestly rejects his amorous intentions
and asks that they sleep apart. Puck applies the juice mistakenly to Lysander's
eyelids. Helena and Demetrius reappear, he exits, she is seen by Lysander who
falls immediately in love with her (rejecting the sleeping Hermia) and pursues
her. Hermia awakens to find herself alone.
Act III Scene 1
The
woods. The rustics assemble and begin their inexpert rehearsal. Bottom suggests
they need a prologue to keep from frightening the ladies. Players will act out
a Wall with a chink and Moonshine as well as the lion. With Pyramus/Bottom offstage,
Puck transforms his head into an ass' head. The players are frightened off.
Titania awakes and is instantly in love with Bottom. She instructs her fairies
to lead him to her bower.
Act III Scene 2
Puck tells Oberon what he has done to
Titania, and he is initially pleased. But Demetrius arrives still chasing Hermia,
who spurns him and accuses him of murdering Lysander. Oberon realizes the juice
was applied to the wrong Athenian male. Oberon instructs Puck to bring Helena
so Demetrius can be made to love her. He is treated with the magic drops and
awakens in love with Helena. But she thinks he and Lysander are merely mocking
her with their professions of love. Hermia arrives and accuses Helena of enchanting
Lysander--they begin to fight but are separated. Oberon berates Puck for his
mistake, and instructs him to obscure the night with fog so the male rivals
do not hurt each other and to treat Lysander with drops to restore his love
for Hermia before the dawn arrives. Helena and Hermia also arrive in the fog
and the four lovers eventually lie down near each other in exhaustion. Puck
treats Lysander's eyes.
Act IV Scene 1
Titania
is still with Bottom, who is being treated royally but only wants oats and hay.
She has given her changeling child to Oberon and he decides to release her from
her spell with an herb. She awakens, is repulsed by Bottom, and dances with
Oberon, their amity renewed. They plan to bless the Duke's house together. Puck
removes Bottom's ass head. Dawn arrives, the fairies disperse for distant darkness,
and Theseus' hunting party arrives to discover the lovers asleep. Egeus is initially
angry to learn of the plan for elopement, but Demetrius explains that he now
loves Helena and Theseus declares a triple wedding will be held. Demetrius asks
if they are really awake or dreaming. Bottom awakens and notes that he has had
a most rare vision, a dream "past the wit of man to say what dream it was"--he
resolves to write a ballad about his experience.
Act IV Scene 2
Athens. The sad artisans lament the "transporting"
and disappearance of Bottom, but he arrives and they joyfully welcome him.
Act V Scene 1
The palace. Theseus and Hippolyta discuss
the story the lovers have told of the encounters in the woods--Theseus dismisses
the tales with worldly skepticism, though she is not so disbelieving. The lovers
join them. Philostrate (the master of revels) informs them of the competing
entertainers, and Theseus chooses the Pyramus story over Philostrate's objections.
The performance begins, with frequent mocking interjections made by the royal
party. Quince gives the Prologue and the lion and moon introduce themselves.
Wall separates Pyramus and Thisbe, the lovers resolve to meet at Ninus' tomb.
She flees a lion and leaves behind her mantle. He arrives, sees her bloodied
mantle, assumes she is slain, and kills himself with his sword. She returns,
finds Pyramus dead, and kills herself. Theseus declines an epilogue which Bottom
offers and accepts instead a dance. They decide to retire for the night. Puck
arrives to sweep the floor. Oberon and Titania sing and dance and announce that
they will bless the marriages that have taken place. Puck turns to the audience
and asks forgiveness if they have offended, saying it has all been like a dream,
and bids goodnight.
The
entire play in one page ! ! ! .....
A
Midsummer
Night's
Dream
~
William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
(characters in the play)
THESEUS, Duke of Athens
EGEUS, father to Hermia
LYSANDER, in love with Hermia
DEMETRIUS, in love with Hermia
PHILOSTRATE, Master of the Revels to Theseus
QUINCE, a carpenter
SNUG, a joiner
BOTTOM, a weaver
FLUTE, a bellows-mender
SNOUT, a tinker
STARVELING, a tailor
HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, bethrothed to Theseus
HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander
HELENA, in love with Demetrius
OBERON, King of the Fairies
TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies
PUCK, or ROBIN GOODFELLOW
PEASEBLOSSOM, fairy
COBWEB, fairy
MOTH, fairy
MUSTARDSEED, fairy
PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, LION
are presented
by:
QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG
Other Fairies attending their King and Queen
Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta
ACT I
SCENE I.
Athens.
The palace of THESEUS.
Enter
THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants
THESEUS
Now, fair
Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, O, 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 revenue.
HIPPOLYTA
Four days
will quickly steep themselves in night;
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
Of our solemnities.
THESEUS
Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
The pale companion is not for our pomp.
Exit PHILOSTRATE
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph and with revelling.
Enter
EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS
EGEUS
Happy
be Theseus, our renowned duke!
THESEUS
Thanks,
good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
EGEUS
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 man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice verses of feigning love,
And stolen the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth:
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart,
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke,
Be it so she; will not here before your grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law
Immediately provided in that case.
THESEUS
What say
you, Hermia? be advised fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
One that composed your beauties, yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
By him imprinted and within his power
To leave the figure or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
HERMIA
So is
Lysander.
THESEUS
In himself
he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
HERMIA
I would
my father look'd but with my eyes.
THESEUS
Rather
your eyes must with his judgment look.
HERMIA
I do entreat
your grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
THESEUS
Either
to die the death or to abjure
For ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness.
HERMIA
So will
I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
THESEUS
Take time
to pause; and, by the nest new moon--
The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For everlasting bond of fellowship--
Upon that day either prepare to die
For disobedience to your father's will,
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would;
Or on Diana's altar to protest
For aye austerity and single life.
DEMETRIUS
Relent,
sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
LYSANDER
You have
her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
EGEUS
Scornful
Lysander! true, he hath my love,
And what is mine my love shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius.
LYSANDER
I am,
my lord, as well derived as he,
As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia:
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
THESEUS
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;
And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
I have some private schooling for you both.
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up--
Which by no means we may extenuate--
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love?
Demetrius and Egeus, go along:
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
EGEUS
With duty
and desire we follow you.
Exeunt
all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
LYSANDER
How now,
my love! why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
HERMIA
Belike
for want of rain, which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
LYSANDER
Ay me!
for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
But, either it was different in blood,--
HERMIA
O cross!
too high to be enthrall'd to low.
LYSANDER
Or else
misgraffed in respect of years,--
HERMIA
O spite!
too old to be engaged to young.
LYSANDER
Or else
it stood upon the choice of friends,--
HERMIA
O hell!
to choose love by another's eyes.
LYSANDER
Or, if
there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
HERMIA
If then
true lovers have been ever cross'd,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross,
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.
LYSANDER
A good
persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.
HERMIA
My good
Lysander!
I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow,
By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen,
When the false Troyan under sail was seen,
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
LYSANDER
Keep promise,
love. Look, here comes Helena.
Enter
HELENA
HERMIA
God speed
fair Helena! whither away?
HELENA
Call you
me fair? that fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I'd give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
HERMIA
I frown
upon him, yet he loves me still.
HELENA
O that
your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
HERMIA
I give
him curses, yet he gives me love.
HELENA
O that
my prayers could such affection move!
HERMIA
The more
I hate, the more he follows me.
HELENA
The more
I love, the more he hateth me.
HERMIA
His folly,
Helena, is no fault of mine.
HELENA
None,
but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
HERMIA
Take comfort:
he no more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me:
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!
LYSANDER
Helen,
to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.
HERMIA
And in
the wood, where often you and I
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us;
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
LYSANDER
I will,
my Hermia.
Exit HERMIA
Helena, adieu:
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
Exit
HELENA
How happy
some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know:
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where:
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight:
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.
Exit
SCENE
II.
Athens.
QUINCE'S house.
Enter
QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
QUINCE
Is all
our company here?
BOTTOM
You were
best to call them generally, man by man,
according to the scrip.
QUINCE
Here is
the scroll of every man's name, which is
thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our
interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his
wedding-day at night.
BOTTOM
First,
good Peter Quince, say what the play treats
on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow
to a point.
QUINCE
Marry,
our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and
most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
BOTTOM
A very
good piece of work, I assure you, and a
merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your
actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.
QUINCE
Answer
as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
BOTTOM
Ready.
Name what part I am for, and proceed.
QUINCE
You, Nick
Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
BOTTOM
What is
Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
QUINCE
A lover,
that kills himself most gallant for love.
BOTTOM
That will
ask some tears in the true performing of
it: if I do it, let the audience look to their
eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some
measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a
tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to
tear a cat in, to make all split.
The raging rocks
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates;
And Phibbus' car
Shall shine from far
And make and mar
The foolish Fates.
This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players.
This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is
more condoling.
QUINCE
Francis
Flute, the bellows-mender.
FLUTE
Here,
Peter Quince.
QUINCE
Flute,
you must take Thisby on you.
FLUTE
What is
Thisby? a wandering knight?
QUINCE
It is
the lady that Pyramus must love.
FLUTE
Nay, faith,
let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.
QUINCE
That's
all one: you shall play it in a mask, and
you may speak as small as you will.
BOTTOM
An I may
hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll
speak in a monstrous little voice. 'Thisne,
Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, lover dear! thy Thisby dear,
and lady dear!'
QUINCE
No, no;
you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby.
BOTTOM
Well,
proceed.
QUINCE
Robin
Starveling, the tailor.
STARVELING
Here,
Peter Quince.
QUINCE
Robin
Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
Tom Snout, the tinker.
SNOUT
Here,
Peter Quince.
QUINCE
You, Pyramus'
father: myself, Thisby's father:
Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, I
hope, here is a play fitted.
SNUG
Have you
the lion's part written? pray you, if it
be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
QUINCE
You may
do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
BOTTOM
Let me
play the lion too: I will roar, that I will
do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar,
that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again,
let him roar again.'
QUINCE
An you
should do it too terribly, you would fright
the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek;
and that were enough to hang us all.
ALL
That would
hang us, every mother's son.
BOTTOM
I grant
you, friends, if that you should fright the
ladies out of their wits, they would have no more
discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my
voice so that I will roar you as gently as any
sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any
nightingale.
QUINCE
You can
play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a
sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a
summer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man:
therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
BOTTOM
Well,
I will undertake it. What beard were I best
to play it in?
QUINCE
Why, what
you will.
BOTTOM
I will
discharge it in either your straw-colour
beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain
beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your
perfect yellow.
QUINCE
Some of
your French crowns have no hair at all, and
then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here
are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request
you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night;
and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the
town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if
we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with
company, and our devices known. In the meantime I
will draw a bill of properties, such as our play
wants. I pray you, fail me not.
BOTTOM
We will
meet; and there we may rehearse most
obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu.
QUINCE
At the
duke's oak we meet.
BOTTOM
Enough;
hold or cut bow-strings.
Exeunt |
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ACT
II
SCENE I.
A wood
near Athens.
Enter,
from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK
PUCK
How now,
spirit! whither wander you?
Fairy
Over hill,
over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon.
PUCK
The king
doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy:
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
But, they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
Fairy
Either
I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?
PUCK
Thou speak'st
aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.
Fairy
And here
my mistress. Would that he were gone!
Enter,
from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers
OBERON
Ill met
by moonlight, proud Titania.
TITANIA
What,
jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence:
I have forsworn his bed and company.
OBERON
Tarry,
rash wanton: am not I thy lord?
TITANIA
Then I
must be thy lady: but I know
When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest Steppe of India?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity.
OBERON
How canst
thou thus for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair AEgle break his faith,
With Ariadne and Antiopa?
TITANIA
These
are the forgeries of jealousy:
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green
For lack of tread are undistinguishable:
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which:
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.
OBERON
Do you
amend it then; it lies in you:
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.
TITANIA
Set your
heart at rest:
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side,
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood,
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,--her womb then rich with my young squire,--
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him.
OBERON
How long
within this wood intend you stay?
TITANIA
Perchance
till after Theseus' wedding-day.
If you will patiently dance in our round
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
OBERON
Give me
that boy, and I will go with thee.
TITANIA
Not for
thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away!
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay.
Exit TITANIA
with her train
OBERON
Well,
go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music.
PUCK
I remember.
OBERON
That very
time I saw, but thou couldst not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal throned by the west,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
PUCK
I'll put
a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes.
Exit
OBERON
Having
once this juice,
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.
The next thing then she waking looks upon,
Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
She shall pursue it with the soul of love:
And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
As I can take it with another herb,
I'll make her render up her page to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference.
Enter
DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him
DEMETRIUS
I love
thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood;
And here am I, and wode within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
HELENA
You draw
me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.
DEMETRIUS
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?
HELENA
And even
for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,--
And yet a place of high respect with me,--
Than to be used as you use your dog?
DEMETRIUS
Tempt
not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.
HELENA
And I
am sick when I look not on you.
DEMETRIUS
You do
impeach your modesty too much,
To leave the city and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night
And the ill counsel of a desert place
With the rich worth of your virginity.
HELENA
Your virtue
is my privilege: for that
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world:
Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is here to look on me?
DEMETRIUS
I'll run
from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
HELENA
The wildest
hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will, the story shall be changed:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
DEMETRIUS
I will
not stay thy questions; let me go:
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
HELENA
Ay, in
the temple, in the town, the field,
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be wood 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.
Exit
OBERON
Fare thee
well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love.
Re-enter
PUCK
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
PUCK
Ay, there
it is.
OBERON
I pray
thee, give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
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;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady: thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
PUCK
Fear not,
my lord, your servant shall do so.
Exeunt
SCENE
II.
Another
part of the wood.
Enter
TITANIA, with her train
TITANIA
Come,
now a roundel and a fairy song;
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds,
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats, and some keep back
The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices and let me rest.
The Fairies
sing
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy queen.
Philomel, with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:
Never harm,
Nor spell nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody, & c.
Fairy
Hence,
away! now all is well:
One aloof stand sentinel.
Exeunt
Fairies. TITANIA sleeps
Enter
OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids
OBERON
What thou
seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take,
Love and languish for his sake:
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
Wake when some vile thing is near.
Exit
Enter
LYSANDER and HERMIA
LYSANDER
Fair love,
you faint with wandering in the wood;
And to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
HERMIA
Be it
so, Lysander: find you out a bed;
For I upon this bank will rest my head.
LYSANDER
One turf
shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.
HERMIA
Nay, good
Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
LYSANDER
O, take
the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit
So that but one heart we can make of it;
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.
HERMIA
Lysander
riddles very prettily:
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off; in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
LYSANDER
Amen,
amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest!
HERMIA
With half
that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
They sleep
Enter
PUCK
PUCK
Through
the forest have I gone.
But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and silence.--Who is | | |
