Act 3 - Scene 2
Another part of the wood.
I wonder if Titania be awaked;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on in
Here comes my messenger.
How now, mad spirit!
What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
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,
met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake
When I did
him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head:
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the
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 fears
Made senseless things
begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats, from
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.
This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice,
as I did bid thee do?
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.
Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS
Stand close: this is the same Athenian.
This is the woman, but not this the man.
O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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 day
As he to me: would he have stolen away
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as
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