Part 12

Ob. But we are spirits of another sort: I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport, And like a Forrester, the groues may tread, Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red, Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames, Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames. But not withstanding haste, make no delay: We may effect this businesse, yet ere day

Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne. Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one. Enter Lysander.

Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speake thou now

Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou? Lys. I will be with thee straight

Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground. Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lysander, speake againe; Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head? Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe, Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd That drawes a sword on thee

Dem. Yea, art thou there? Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here. Enter.

Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on, When I come where he cals, then he's gone. The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I: I followed fast, but faster he did flye;

shifting places.

That fallen am I in darke vneuen way, And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:

lye down.

For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight. Enter Robin and Demetrius.

Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot, Thou runst before me, shifting euery place, And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face. Where art thou? Rob. Come hither, I am here

Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this deere, If euer I thy face by day-light see. Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me, To measure out my length on this cold bed, By daies approach looke to be visited. Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East, That I may backe to Athens by day-light, From these that my poore companie detest; And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie, Steale me a while from mine owne companie.

Sleepe.

Rob. Yet but three? Come one more, Two of both kindes makes vp foure. Here she comes, curst and sad, Cupid is a knauish lad, Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore females mad

Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars, I can no further crawle, no further goe; My legs can keepe no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the breake of day, Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray

Rob. On the ground sleepe sound, Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy. When thou wak'st, thou tak'st True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye, And the Country Prouerb knowne, That euery man should take his owne, In your waking shall be showne. Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill. The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee well.

They sleepe all the Act.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them.

Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed, While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy, And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head, And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy

Clow. Where's Peaseblossome? Peas. Ready

Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer Cobweb

Cob. Ready

Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready