Array The griffin classics - William Shakespeare - Complete Collection

William Shakespeare

( 1595–1596 )

Quarto, 1600; First Folio, 1623.

midsummer

¶

Act I

Sc. I Sc. II

Act II

Sc. I Sc. II

Act III

Sc. I Sc. II

Act IV

Sc. I Sc. II

Act V

Sc. I

[Dramatis Personae

Theseus , Duke of Athens

Egeus , father to Hermia

Lysander ,

Demetrius , in love with Hermia

Philostrate , Master of the Revels to Theseus

–––––

Quince , a carpenter, presenting Prologue

Bottom , a weaver, presenting Pyramus

Flute , a bellows-mender, presenting Thisby

Snout , a tinker, presenting Wall

Snug , a joiner, presenting Lion

Starveling , a tailor, presenting Moonshine

–––––

Hippolyta , Queen of the Amazons, betrothed 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 ,

Cobweb ,

Moth ,

Mustardseed , fairies

Other Fairies attending their King and Queen; Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta

Scene: Athens , and a wood near it]

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, [Philostrate,] with others.

The.

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’s revenue.

Hip.

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.

The.

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 and his daughter Hermia and Lysander and Demetrius.

Ege.

Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!

The.

Thanks, good Egeus. What’s the news with thee?

Ege.

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 interchang’d love-tokens with my child;

Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung

With faining voice verses of faining love,

And stol’n the impression of her fantasy

With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,

Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats—messengers

Of strong prevailment in unhardened 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.

The.

What say you, Hermia? Be advis’d, fair maid.

To you your father should be as a god;

One that compos’d 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.

Her.

So is Lysander.

The.

In himself he is;

But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice,

The other must be held the worthier.

Her.

I would my father look’d but with my eyes.

The.

Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.

Her.

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.

The.

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,

Chaunting 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.

Her.

So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,

Ere I will yield my virgin patent up

Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke

My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

The.

Take time to pause, and by the next 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.

Dem.

Relent, sweet Hermia, and, Lysander, yield

Thy crazed title to my certain right.

Lys.

You have her father’s love, Demetrius,

Let me have Hermia’s; do you marry him.

Ege.

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.

Lys.

I am, my lord, as well deriv’d 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 belov’d 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.

The.

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;