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Now much befhrew my manners, and my pride,
So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend:
Lyf. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, fay I;
Her. With half that wish the wifher's eyes be prefs'd!
Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
approve]-make trial of.
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, fweet Demetrius.
How came her eyes fo bright? Not with falt tears :
For beasts, that meet me, run away for fear:
Lyf. And run through fire I will, for thy fweet fake.
Transparent Helena! Nature here shews art,
Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander; fay not so:
darkling]-in the dark.
the leffer is my grace.]-the lefs favourably am I received.
Lyf. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good footh, you do,
But fare you well: perforce I must confefs,
Lyf. She fees not Hermia :-Hermia, fleep thou there; And never may'ft thou come Lyfander near! For, as a furfeit of the sweetest things, The deepest loathing to the stomach brings; Or, as the herefies, that men do leave, Are hated most of those they did deceive;
* touching now the point of human skill, &c.]-my fenfes being arrived at their full perfection, my will now follows reafon.
z gentleness.]-generofity, poffeffed more of the fpirit of a gentle
So thou, my furfeit, and my heresy,
Her. [ftarting from fleep.] Help me, Lyfander, help me! do thy best,
To pluck this crawling ferpent from my breast!
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Starveling. The Queen of Fairies lying afleep.
Bot. Are we all met?
Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal: This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tyring-houfe; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke.
all loves ;]-I adjure you, as you love me; by all means. Pat, Pat ;]-moft opportunely.
• brake]-thicket, or bush.
Bot. Peter Quince,
Quin. What fay'ft thou, bully Bottom?
Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a fword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout. By'rlakin, a parlous fear.
Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Bot. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue: and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our fwords; and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed: and, for the more better affurance tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: This will put them out of fear.
Quin. Well, we will have fuch a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and fix.
Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight.
Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
Star. I fear it, I promise you.
Bot. Masters, you ought to confider with yourselves; to bring in, God fhield us! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl, than your lion, living; and we ought to look to it.
Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell, he is not a lion.
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the fame defect,-Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wifh you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat you, not to fear, not to tremble:
By'rlakin, a parlous fear.]-ladykin, or little lady, a perilous fear. eight and fix.]-lines, or the meafure ufed in fonnets.