Rivers del

Ridley scuip!

Midsummer Night's Dream

Act II. Scene 3:

Published June 1800 by Vernor & Heed. Peultry

When thou wak'st, let love for bid
Sleep his feat on thy eye-lid.
So awake, when I am gone;

For I must now to Oberon.

Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running.

[Exit.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, fweet Demetrius.
Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not fo.
Dem. Stay, on thy peril; I alone will go.

[Exit DEMETRIUS.

Hel. O, I am out of breath, in this fond chace!
The more my prayer, the leffer is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wherefoe'er the lies;
For the hath bleffed, and attractive eyes.

How came her eyes so bright? Not with falt tears:
If fo, my eyes are oftner wafh'd than hers.

No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;

For beafts that meet me, run away for fear :
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and diffembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?-
But who is here? Lyfander! on the ground!
Dead? or afleep? I fee no blood, no wound :
Lyfander, if you live, good fir, awake.

Lyf. And run through fire I will, for thy fweet fake.

Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art,
That through thy bosom makes me fee thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word

Is that vile name, to perifh on my sword!

[Waking.

Hel.

Hel. Do not fay fo, Lyfander; fay not fo:

What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia ftill loves you: then be content.

Lyf. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena I love:

Who will not change a raven for a dove ?
The will of man is by his reafon sway'd;
And reafon fays you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their seafon :
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reafon;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reafon becomes the marshal to my will,

And leads me to your eyes; where I o'erlook
Love's ftories, written in love's richest book.

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When, at your hands, did I deferve this fcorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deferve a fweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my infufficiency?

Good troth, you do me wrong, good footh, you do,
In fuch difdainful manner me to woo.

But fare you well: perforce I must confefs,
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady, of one man refus'd,
Should, of another, therefore be abus'd!

[Exit.

Lyf. She fees not Hermia :-Hermia, fleep thou there;

And never may'st thou come Lyfander near!
For, as a furfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings;
Or, as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated most of thofe they did deceive;

So

Rivers del

Ridley sculp

Midsummer Night's Dream

Act II. Scene 3.

Published June 1;1800, by Vernor & Hood, Poultry.