cheek by jole.

Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; 1380You bead, you acorn.

Fine, i'faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? 1335Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!

O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night 1330And stolen my love's heart from him?

Do you not jest?

Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, And tender me, forsooth, affection, 1270But by your setting on, by your consent? What thought I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise.

Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,

yonder is thy dear.

Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. Look, where thy love comes;

it is not so.

And now to Helen is it home return'd, 1210There to remain.

Never did mockers waste more idle breath.

O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment:

To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow 1180When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.

I had no judgment when to her I swore.

You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, 1170Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.

Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? 1160Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

Then will two at once woo one; 1155That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befal preposterously.

Shall we their fond pageant see?

Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. 1140When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wakest, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy.

About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: 1130All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.

Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath.

What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue 1125Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true.

There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay, 1120If for his tender here I make some stay.

A privilege never to see me more. And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no.

An if I could, what should I get therefore?

I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.

You spend your passion on a misprised mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.

Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number'd among men! 1100O, 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? O brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it; for with doubler tongue 1105Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

What's this to my Lysander? where is he? 1095Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?

So should the murder'd look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon 1085This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.

For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, 1080Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too.

Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,

O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

I took him sleeping,—that is finish'd too,— 1070And the Athenian woman by his side: That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.

Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; 1060Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there:

When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 1050Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;

The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake 1045When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nole I fixed on his head:

While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, 1040Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.

My mistress with a monster is in love.

I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, 1030Which she must dote on in extremity.