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Fai. And here my Mistress:

Would that we were gone.

Enter Oberon King of Fairies at one Door with his Train, and the Queen at another with hers.

Ob. I'll met by Moon-light,

Proud Titania.

Queen. What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence,
I have forfworn his Bed and Company..

Ob. Tarry rafh Wanton, am not I thy Lord?
Queen. Then I must be thy Lady; but I know
When thou waft ftoll'n away from Fairy Land,
And in the fhape of Corin fate all Day,
Playing on Pipes of Corn, and verfing Love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the fartheft fteep of India?
But that forfooth the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd Miftrefs, and your Warrior Love,
To Thefeus must be wedded, and you come,
To give their Bed Joy and Profperity.

Ob. How can'ft thou thus for fhame, Titania,
Glance at my Credit with Hippolita,
Knowing I know thy Love to Thefeus?

Didft thou not lead him through the glimmering Night
From Peregenia, whom he ravished,
And make him with fair Ægle break his faith,
With Ariadne, and Antiopa?

Queen. Thefe are the Forgeries of Jealoufie,
And never fince the middle Summer's Spring,
Met we on Hill, in Dale, Foreft, or Mead,
By paved Fountain, or by rufhy Brook,
Or in the beached Margent of the Sea,
To dance our Ringlets to the whiftling Wind,
But with thy Brawls thou haft disturb'd our Sport.
Therefore the Winds piping to us in vain,
As in Revenge have fuck'd up from the Sea,
Contagious Fogs; which falling in the Land,
Hath every petty River made fo proud,
That they have over-born their Continents.
The Ox hath therefore ftretch'd his Yoak in vain,
The Ploughman loft his Sweat, and the green Corn
ath rotted, e'er his Youth attain'd a Beard:



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The Fold ftands empty in the drowned Field,
And Crows are fatted with the Murrion Flock,
The Nine-mens-morris is fill'd up with Mud,
And the queint Mazes in the wanton Green,
For lack of tread are undiftinguishable.
The human Mortals want their Winter here,
No Night is now with Hymn or Carol bleft;
Therefore the Moon, the Governess of Floods,
Pale in her Anger, washes all the Air;

That Rheumatick Difeafes do abound.
And through this Diftemperature, we fee
The Seasons alter; hoary-headed Frofts
Fall in the fresh Lap of the Crimson Rose,
And on old Hyem's Chin and Icy Crown,
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer Buds
Is as in Mockery fet. The Spring, the Summer,
The childing Autumn, angry Winter change
Their wonted Liveries, and the amazed World,
By their increase, now knows not which is which:
And this fame Progeny of Evil comes
From our Debate, from our Diffention,
We are their Parents and Original.

Ob. Do you amend it then, it lyes in you.
Why fhould Titania crofs her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling Boy,
To be my Henchman.

Queen. Set your Heart at reft,

The Fairy-land buys not the Child of me.
His Mother was a Votrefs of my Order,
And in the fpiced Indian Air by Night
Full often the hath goffipt by my fide,
And fate with me on Neptune's yellow Sands,
Marking th' embarked Traders of the Flood,
When we have laught to fee the Sails conceive,
And grow big-bellied with the wanton Wind:
Which the with pretty and with fwimming Gate,
Following (her Womb then rich with my young Squire)
Would imitate, and fail upon the Land,
To fetch me Trifles, and return again,
As from a Voyage rich with Merchandize.
But the being mortal of that Boy did dye,



And for her fake I do rear up her Boy,
And for her fake I will not part with him.
Ob. How long within this Wood intend you ftay?
Queen. Perchance 'till after Thefeus's Wedding-day.
you will patiently dance in our Round,
And fee our Moon-light Revels, go with us;
If not, fhun me and I will spare your Haunts.
Ob. Give me that Boy, and I will go with thee.
Queen. Not for thy fairy Kingdom. Fairies away:
We Thall chide downright, if I longer ftay.


Ob. Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this Grove, 'Till I torment thee for this Injury.

My gentle Puck come hither; thou remembreft
Since that I fate upon a Promontory,
And heard a Mermaid on a Dolphin's Back,
Uttering fuch Dulcet and Harmonious Breath,
That the rude Sea grew civil at her Song,
And certain Stars fhot madly from their Sphears,
To hear the Sea-maid's Mufick.

Puck. I remember.

Ob. That very time I faw, but thou could'ft not,
Flying between the cold Moon and the Earth,
Cupid all arm'd; a certain Aim he took
At a fair Veftal, throned by the Weft,
And loos'd his Love-fhaft fmartly from his Bow,
As it would pierce a hundred thousand Hearts;
But I might fee young Cupid's fiery Shaft
Quench'd in the chafte Beams of the wat'ry Moon,
And the Imperial Votrefs paffed 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 fhew'd thee once,
The Juice of it, on fleeping Eye-lids laid,
Will make a Man or Woman madly doat
Upon the next live Creature that it fees.
Fetch me this Herb, and be thou here again
E'er the Leviathan can fwim a League.


Puck I'll put a Girdle about the Earth in forty Minutes.


Ob. Having once this Juice,
I'll watch Titania when he is afleep,
And drop the Liquor of it in her Eyes:
The next thing which the waking looks upon,
(Be it on Lyon, Bear, or Wolf, or Bull,
Or medling Monkey, or on bufie Ape)
She shall purfue it with the Soul of Love;
And e'er I take this Charm off from 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 over-hear their Conference.

Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lyfander, and fair Hermia?
The one I'll ftay, the other ftayeth me.
Thou told'ft me they were ftol'n into this Wood;
And here am I, and Wood within this Wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence get thee gone, and follow me no more.

Hel. 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 fhall have no Power to follow you.

Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?
Or rather do I not in plaineft Truth,
Tell you I do not, nor I cannot love you?

Hel. And even for that do I love thee the more;
I am your Spaniel, and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your Spaniel, fpurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lofe me; only give me Leaves
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worfer Place can I beg in your Love,
(And yet a Place of high Refpect with me)
Than to be used as you do your Dog?

Dem. Tempt not too much the Hatred of my Spirit,
For I am fick when I do look on thee.

Hel. And I am fick when I look not on you.


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Dem. You do impeach your Modesty too much,
To leave the City, and commit your felf
Into the hands of one that loves you not,
To trust the Opportunity of Night,
And the ill Counsel of a defart Place,
With the rich Worth of your Virginity.

Hel. Your Virtue is my Privilege; for that
It is not Night when I do fee your Face;
Therefore I think I am not in the Night.
Nor doth this Wood lack Worlds of Company,
For you, in my refpect, are all the World.
Then how can it be faid I am alone,
When all the World is here to look on me?

Dem. I'll run from thee and hide me in the Brakes,
And leave thee to the Mercy of wild Beafts.

Hel. The wildeft hath not fuch a Heart as you;
Run when you will, the Story fhall be chang'd:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the Chace;
The Dove pursues the Griffin, the mild Hind
Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootless speed!
When Cowardize pursues, and Valour flies.

Dem. I will not stay thy Questions, let me go;
Or if you follow me, do not believe,
But I fhall do thee Mischief in the Wood.

Hel. Ay, in the Temple, in the Town and Field
You do me Mischief. Fye, Demetrius,
Your Wrongs do fet a Scandal on my Sex:
We cannot fight for Love, as Men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
I follow thee, and make a Heaven of Hell,

To dye upon the Hand I love fo well.


Ob. Fare thee well, Nymph, e'er he do leave this Grove Thou shalt fly him, and he fhall feek thy Love.

Haft thou the Flower there? Welcome Wanderer.

Enter Puck.


Puck. Ay, there it is.

Ob. I pray thee give it me;

I know a Bank where the wild Time blows,
Where the Oxflips and the nodding Violet grows,
Quite over cannopy'd with lufcious Woodbine,
With fweet Musk Rofes, and with Eglating,


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