As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! [Exit Lys.

Hel. How happy fome, o'er other fome, can be !
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so ;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no *quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind :
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is oft beguil'd.
As waggish boys themselves in game forswear,
So the boy love is perjur'd every where :
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine ;
And when his hail fome heat from Hermia felt,
*Soon it diffolv’d, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's fight :
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night,
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expence :
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his fight thither, and back again. (Exit.

Enter Quince the carpenter, Snug the joiner, Bottom the

weaver, Flute the bellows-mender, Snowt the tinker, and Starveling the taylor. Quin. Is all our company here?

Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the "scrip.

Quin. Here is the scrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and dutchess, on his wedding-day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors, and so grow on to a point.

Quin. Marry our play is—The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.--Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your

actors by the scrowl : Masters, spread yourselves.

Quin. Answer, as I call you.—Nick Bottom the weaver.
Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
Bot. What is Pyramus ? a lover, or a tyrant ?
Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it : If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in fome measure. To the rest :

Yet my chief humour is for a tyrant : I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split,

This was lofty !-Now name the rest of the players.-
This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein ; a lover is more con-
doling.

Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby ? a wandering knight?
Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman ; I have a beard coming.

Quin. That's all one ; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice ;—Thisne, Thisne,Ab, Pyramus, my lover dear ; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear!

Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby.

Bot. Well, proceed.
Quin. Robin Starveling, the taylor.
Star. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thilby's mo-

ther.-Tom Snowt, the Tinker.
Snow. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You, Pyramus's father ; myself, Thisby's father;
' in a mask, ]—as was usual, when men play'd the characters of women.

-Snug,

-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part :-and, I hope,
there is a play fitted.
Snug. Have you the lion's part

written ?
pray you,

if it be, give it me, for I am 8 low of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, let him roar again.

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the dutchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us every mother's son.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us : but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus : for Pyramus is a sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's-day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what

you

will. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-coloured beard, your orange- tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your "French crowns have no hair at all, and then

you will play bare-fac’d.-But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night ; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon light; there will we rehearse : for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

Bot. We will meet ; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet.
Bot. Enough ; "Hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt.

A CT II.

SCENE I.

A Wood.

Enter a Fairy at one door, and Puck (or Robin-goodfellow)

at another. Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you

? Fai. Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the 'moones sphere;

i obscenely, )-privately, and with less restraint.

Held, or cut bow-firings.]—I'll be there most assuredly, whether my bow-ftrings hold or break ;--If I fail, cut my bow-ftrings, and spoil me for an archer, or, perhaps, a fidler. 1 moones)--the Saxon genitive case. “ as whales bone." Love's LABOUR Lost, AC V, S. 2. Biron.

And