Act 3 Quotes Midsummer Night’s Dream

Bottom Are we all met?
Quince Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous convenient placefor our rehearsal. This green plot shall be ourstage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and wewill do it in action as we will do it before the duke.
Bottom There are things in this comedy of Pyramus andThisby that will never please. First, Pyramus mustdraw a sword to kill himself; which the ladiescannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout By’r lakin, a parlous fear.
Starveling I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Not a whit: I have a device to make all well.Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem tosay, we will do no harm with our swords, and thatPyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the morebetter assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am notPyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put themout of fear. Bottom
Quince Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall bewritten in eight and six.
Bottom No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
Snout Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
Starveling I fear it, I promise you.
Bottom Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: tobring in–God shield us!–a lion among ladies, is amost dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearfulwild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought tolook to ‘t.
Snout Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Bottom Nay, you must name his name, and half his face mustbe seen through the lion’s neck: and he himselfmust speak through, saying thus, or to the samedefect,–‘Ladies,’–or ‘Fair-ladies–I would wishYou,’–or ‘I would request you,’–or ‘I wouldentreat you,–not to fear, not to tremble: my lifefor yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, itwere pity of my life: no I am no such thing; I am aman as other men are;’ and there indeed let him namehis name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
Quince Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things;that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for,you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.
Snout Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
Bottom A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; findout moonshine, find out moonshine.
Bottom Why, then may you leave a casement of the greatchamber window, where we play, open, and the moonmay shine in at the casement.
Quince Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thornsand a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or topresent, the person of Moonshine. Then, there isanother thing: we must have a wall in the greatchamber; for Pyramus and Thisby says the story, didtalk through the chink of a wall.
Snout You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
Bottom Some man or other must present Wall: and let himhave some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-castabout him, to signify wall; and let him hold hisfingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramusand Thisby whisper.
Quince If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down,every mother’s son, and rehearse your parts.Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken yourspeech, enter into that brake: and so every oneaccording to his cue.
Puck What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,So near the cradle of the fairy queen?What, a play toward! I’ll be an auditor;An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.
Bottom So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile,And by and by I will to thee appear.
Quince Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goesbut to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
Flute Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,As true as truest horse that yet would never tire,I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb.
Quince ‘Ninus’ tomb,’ man: why, you must not speak thatyet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all yourpart at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cueis past; it is, ‘never tire.’
Quince O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray,masters! fly, masters! Help!
Puck I’ll follow you, I’ll lead you about a round,Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound,A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
Bottom I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me;to fright me, if they could. But I will not stirfrom this place, do what they can: I will walk upand down here, and I will sing, that they shall hearI am not afraid.
Titania What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
Bottom The finch, the sparrow and the lark,The plain-song cuckoo gray,Whose note full many a man doth mark,And dares not answer nay;–for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolisha bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry’cuckoo’ never so?
Titania I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note;So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move meOn the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
Bottom Methinks, mistress, you should have little reasonfor that: and yet, to say the truth, reason andlove keep little company together now-a-days; themore the pity that some honest neighbours will notmake them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
Titania Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Titania Out of this wood do not desire to go:Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.I am a spirit of no common rate;The summer still doth tend upon my state;And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee,And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;And I will purge thy mortal grossness soThat thou shalt like an airy spirit go.Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Titania Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighsAnd light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes,To have my love to bed and to arise;And pluck the wings from Painted butterfliesTo fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Bottom I cry your worship’s mercy, heartily: I beseech yourworship’s name.
Bottom I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, yourmother, and to Master Peascod, your father. GoodMaster Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of moreacquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
Bottom Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well:that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hathdevoured many a gentleman of your house: I promiseyou your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. Idesire your more acquaintance, good MasterMustardseed.
Titania Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,Lamenting some enforced chastity.Tie up my love’s tongue bring him silently.
Oberon I wonder if Titania be awaked;Then, what it was that next came in her eye,Which she must dote on in extremity. Here comes my messenger.How now, mad spirit!What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
Puck My mistress with a monster is in love.Near to her close and consecrated bower,While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,Were met together to rehearse a playIntended for great Theseus’ nuptial-day.The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,Who Pyramus presented, in their sportForsook his scene and enter’d in a brakeWhen I did him at this advantage take,An ass’s nole I fixed 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 fearsthus strong,Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders allthings 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.
Oberion This falls out better than I could devise.But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyesWith the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
Puck I took him sleeping,–that is finish’d too,–And the Athenian woman by his side:That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.
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 dayAs he to me: would he have stolen awayFrom sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soonThis whole earth may be bored and that the moonMay through the centre creep and so displeaseHer brother’s noontide with Antipodes.It cannot be but thou hast murder’d him;So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
Demetrius 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.
Hermia What’s this to my Lysander? where is he?Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Hermia Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the boundsOf maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then?Henceforth be never number’d 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 tongueThan thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
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.
Oberon What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quiteAnd laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight:Of thy misprision must perforce ensueSome true love turn’d and not a false turn’d true.
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.
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 gloriouslyAs the Venus of the sky.When thou wakest, if she be by,Beg of her for remedy.
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!
Puck Then will two at once woo one;That must needs be sport alone;And those things do best please meThat befal preposterously.
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.
Demetrius O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in showThy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crowWhen thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kissThis princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
Helena O spite! O hell! I see you all are bentTo set against me for your merriment:If you we re 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 eyesWith your derision! none of noble sortWould so offend a virgin, and extortA 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.
Demetrius Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:If e’er I loved 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.
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.
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 soundBut why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
Lysander Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide,Fair Helena, who more engilds the nightThan all you fiery oes and eyes of light.Why seek’st thou me? could not this make thee know,The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
Hermia What love could press Lysander from my side?
Helena Lo, she is one of this confederacy!Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all threeTo fashion this false sport, in spite of me.Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!Have you conspired, have you with these contrivedTo bait me with this foul derision?Is all the counsel that we two have shared,The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent,When we have chid the hasty-footed timeFor parting us,–O, is it 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 grow together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition;Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;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.
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 thisTo her he hates? and wherefore doth LysanderDeny your love, so rich within his soul,And tender me, forsooth, affection,But 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.
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 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.
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 loved me; yet since night you leftme: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 jestThat I do hate thee and love Helena.
Helena Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tearImpatient 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 compareBetween our statures; she hath urged 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?How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;How low am I? I am not yet so lowBut that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
Helena I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;I have no gift at all in shrewishness;I am a right maid for my cowardice:Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,Because she is something lower than myself,That I can match her.
Helena Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.I evermore did love you, Hermia,Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you;Save that, in love unto Demetrius,I told him of your stealth unto this wood.He follow’d you; for love I follow’d him;But he hath chid me hence and threaten’d meTo strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:And now, so you will let me quiet go,To Athens will I bear my folly backAnd follow you no further: let me go:You see how simple and how fond I am.
Demetrius You are too officiousIn her behalf that scorns your services.Let her alone: speak not of Helena;Take not her part; for, if thou dost intendNever so little show of love to her,Thou shalt aby it.
Puck Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.Did not you tell me I should know the manBy the Athenian garment be had on?And so far blameless proves my enterprise,That I have ‘nointed an Athenian’s eyes;And so far am I glad it so did sortAs this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Oberon Thou see’st these lovers seek a place to fight:Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;The starry welkin cover thou anonWith drooping fog as black as Acheron,And lead these testy rivals so astrayAs one come not within another’s way.Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;And from each other look thou lead them thus,Till o’er their brows death-counterfeiting sleepWith leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye;Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,To take from thence all error with his might,And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.When they next wake, all this derisionShall seem a dream and fruitless vision,And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,With league whose date till death shall never end.Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,I’ll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;And then I will her charmed eye releaseFrom monster’s view, and all things shall be peace.
Puck My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,For night’s swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,And yonder shines Aurora’s harbinger;At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,That in crossways and floods have burial,Already to their wormy beds are gone;For fear lest day should look their shames upon,They willfully themselves exile from lightAnd must for aye consort with black-brow’d night.
Oberon But we are spirits of another sort:I with the morning’s love have oft made sport,And, like a forester, the groves may tread,Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:We may effect this business yet ere day.
Puck Up and down, up and down,I will lead them up and down:I am fear’d in field and town:Goblin, lead them up and down.Here comes one.
Lysander He goes before me and still dares me on:When I come where he calls, then he is gone.The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I:I follow’d fast, but faster he did fly;That fallen am I in dark uneven way,And here will rest me.
Helena O weary night, O long and tedious night,Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east,That I may back to Athens by daylight,From these that my poor company detest:And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,Steal me awhile from mine own company.
Puck Yet but three? Come one more;Two of both kinds make up four.Here she comes, curst and sad:Cupid is a knavish lad,Thus to make poor females mad.
Hermia Never so weary, never so in woe,Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,I can no further crawl, no further go;My legs can keep no pace with my desires.Here will I rest me till the break of day.Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
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 had no judgment when to her I swore.
Lysander Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
Demetrius O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in showThy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crowWhen thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kissThis princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
Helena O spite! O hell! I see you all are bentTo set against me for your merriment:If you we re 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 eyesWith your derision! none of noble sortWould so offend a virgin, and extortA poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.

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