The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

It cannot be but thou hast murd’red him; So should a murderer look-so dead, so grim.

DEMETRIUS. So should the murdered look; and so should I, Pierc’d 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 numb’red among men!

O, 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 Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

DEMETRIUS. You spend your passion on a mispris’d 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. An if I could, what should I get therefore?

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. [Lies down]

OBERON. 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 turn’d, and not a false turn’d true.

PUCK. 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.

PUCK. 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.

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.

Re-enter PUCK

PUCK. 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.

PUCK. Then will two at once woo one.

That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befall prepost’rously.

Enter LYSANDER and HELENA LYSANDER. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?

Scorn 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?

HELENA. 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, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.

LYSANDER. I hod no judgment when to her I swore.

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

LYSANDER. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.

DEMETRIUS. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!

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 When thou hold’st up thy hand. O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!

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

If you were civil and knew courtesy,

You would not do me thus much injury.

Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join in souls to mock me too?

If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so:

To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.

You both are rivals, and love Hermia; And now both rivals, to mock Helena.

A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,

To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes With your derision! None of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort

A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.

LYSANDER. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; For you love Hermia. This you know I know; And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath,

Whom I do love and will do till my death.

HELENA. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.

DEMETRIUS. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none.

If e’er I lov’d her, all that love is gone.

My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn’d, And now to Helen is it home return’d, There to remain.

LYSANDER. Helen, it is not so.

DEMETRIUS. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.

Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.

Enter HERMIA

HERMIA. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense.

Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.

But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?

LYSANDER. Why should he stay whom love doth press to go?

HERMIA. What love could press Lysander from my side?

LYSANDER. Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide-Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.

Why seek’st thou me? Could not this make thee know The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?

HERMIA. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.

HELENA. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!

Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three To fashion this false sport in spite of me.

Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!

Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d, To bait me with this foul derision?

Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d, The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us-O, is all forgot?

All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition,

Two lovely berries moulded on one stern; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.

And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend?

It is not friendly, ‘tis not maidenly; Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury.

HERMIA. I am amazed at your passionate words; I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.

HELENA. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face?

And made your other love, Demetrius,

Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, Precious, celestial? 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,

But by your setting on, by your consent?

What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unlov’d?

This you should pity rather than despise.

HERMIA. I understand not what you mean by this.

HELENA. Ay, do-persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back, Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up; This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.

If you have any pity, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument.

But fare ye well; ‘tis partly my own fault, Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.

LYSANDER. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse; My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!

HELENA. O excellent!

HERMIA. Sweet, do not scorn her so.

DEMETRIUS. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.

LYSANDER. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat; Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers Helen, I love thee, by my life I do;

I swear by that which I will lose for thee To prove him false that says I love thee not.

DEMETRIUS. I say I love thee more than he can do.

LYSANDER. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.

DEMETRIUS. Quick, come.

HERMIA. Lysander, whereto tends all this?

LYSANDER. Away, you Ethiope!

DEMETRIUS. No, no, he will

Seem to break loose-take on as you would follow, But yet come not. You are a tame man; go!

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

HERMIA. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this, Sweet love?

LYSANDER. Thy love! Out, tawny Tartar, out!

Out, loathed med’cine! O hated potion, hence!

HERMIA. Do you not jest?

HELENA. Yes, sooth; and so do you.

LYSANDER. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.

DEMETRIUS. I would I had your bond; for I perceive A weak bond holds you; I’ll not trust your word.

LYSANDER. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?

Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.

HERMIA. What! Can you do me greater harm than hate?

Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?

Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?

I am as fair now as I was erewhile.

Since night you lov’d me; yet since night you left me.

Why then, you left me-O, the gods forbid!-

In earnest, shall I say?

LYSANDER. Ay, by my life!

And never did desire to see thee more.

Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certain, nothing truer; ‘tis no jest That I do hate thee and love Helena.

HERMIA. O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom!

You thief of love! What! Have you come by night, And stol’n my love’s heart from him?

HELENA. Fine, i’ faith!

Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What! Will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?

Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet you!

HERMIA. ‘Puppet!’ why so? Ay, that way goes the game.

Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urg’d her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with him.

And are you grown so high in his esteem Because I am so dwarfish and so low?