An ass’s nole I fixèd on his head.
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy—
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or 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,
And at our stamp here o’er and o’er one falls.
He ’Murder’ cries, and help from Athens calls.
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;
Some sleeves, some hats—from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there;
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.
OBERON
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latched the Athenian’s eyes
With the love juice, as I did bid thee do?
ROBIN
I took him sleeping; that is finished, too;
And the Athenian woman by his side,
That when he waked of force she must be eyed.
Enter Demetrius and Hermia
OBERON
Stand close. This is the same Athenian.
ROBIN
This is the woman, but not this the man.
⌈They stand apart⌉
DEMETRIUS
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
HERMIA
Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse;
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o‘er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
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
This whole earth may be bored, and that the moon
May through the centre creep, and so displease
Her brother’s noontide with th’Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him.
So should a murderer look—so dead, so grim.
DEMETRIUS
So should the murdered 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.
HERMIA
What’s this to my Lysander? Where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
DEMETRIUS
I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
HERMIA
Out, dog; out, cur. Thou driv’st me past the bounds
Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him then?
Henceforth be never numbered among men.
O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake.
Durst thou have looked upon him being awake,
And hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder do so much?—
An adder did it, for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
DEMETRIUS
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.
HERMIA
I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
DEMETRIUS
And if I could, what should I get therefor?
HERMIA
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. Exit
DEMETRIUS
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,
If for his tender here I make some stay.
He lies down and sleeps
OBERON (to Robin)
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
Some true love turned, and not a false turned true.
ROBIN
Then fate o’errules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
OBERON
About the wood go swifter than the wind,
And Helena of Athens look thou find.
All 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.
ROBIN
I go, I go—look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. Exit
OBERON
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
He drops the juice on Demetrius’ eyelids
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak’st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Enter Robin Goodfellow, the puck
ROBIN
Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover’s fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
OBERON
Stand aside. The noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
ROBIN
Then will two at once woo one.