University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Grand Doric Colonnade appertaining to Duke Theseus' Palace.
[March.]
Enter Theseus and Hippolita, with Attendants.
Thes.
Now, fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, Oh, 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 nights;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow,
New bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.

Thes.
Go, Philostrate,
Stir up th' 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.
Hippolita, 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.
Away! (To Philostrate.)

[Exit Philos.
And thou, (to an Officer)
go seek the forester:
My Love shall hear the music of my hounds,
And shall confess, a cry more tuneable,
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly!

[Exit Officer.
Enter an Officer.
Officer.
My liege, Egeus, and his daughter Hermia,
Intreat an audience.

Thes.
Egeus! ever, ever welcome!

Officer.
And with them come, my liege, the Lords Lysander and Demetrius.

Thes.
Give all free entrance.

[Flourish without.]
Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.
Egeus.
Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!

Thes.
Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee?

Egeus.
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 has witched the bosom of my child;
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness; and, my noble Lord,
Be 't 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.

Thes.
What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid.
To you your father should be as a god,
One, who 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.

Thes.
In himself he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.

Her.
I do intreat your Grace to pardon me:
I know not by what pow'r I am made bold
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts:
But I beseech your Grace, that I may know
The worst that may befal, if I refuse
To wed Demetrius?

Thes.
Either to die, or to abjure
For ever the society of men;
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
Whether, not yielding to your father's choice,
You can brave death, or can endure
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
And live a barren sister all your life?
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood,
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 heart and hand
Unto Demetrius, to whose unwish'd yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.

Thes.
Take time to pause, and by the next new moon,
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,)
Upon that day, either prepare to die,
For disobedience to your father's will,
Or else to wed Demetrius; or protest
A single life, on chaste Diana's altar.

Dem.
Relent, sweet Hermia, and, Lysander, yield.

Lys.
You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's;—do you marry him.

Egeus.
Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love;
And what is mine, my love shall render him.

Lys.
I am, my Lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possest: my love is more than his:
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd;
And, which is more than all, I'm lov'd of Hermia,
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius sought Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, doats,
Devoutly doats, doats in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.

Thes.
I must confess that I have heard so much—
Have heard Demetrius was betroth'd to
Helena, and thought t'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
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolita.

[Flourish.]
[Exeunt all but Lysander and Hermia.
Lys.
Hermia, for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth,
But either it was different in blood,
Or else misgrafted in respect of years,
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a spleen) unfolds both heav'n and earth;
And ere a man hath pow'r to say, behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confusion.

Her.
If then true lovers have been ever crost,
Oh, let us teach our trial, patience.

Lys.
A good persuasion; therefore hear me, Hermia:
I have a widow-aunt, a dowager,
From Athens is her house remote, seven leagues;
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,
And to that place the sharp Athenian law,
Cannot pursue us. If thou lov'st me, then,
Steal forth to-morrow night; and in the wood
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
To do observance to the morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.

Her.
My good Lysander, I swear—
SONG—Hermia.—[Bishop.]

[Exeunt.