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could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can : I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.

The ousel-cock, so black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill;
The Prostle with his note so true,

The wren with little quill.
Tita. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
Bot. 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 fuolish a bird ? — who would give a bird the lie, though he cry cuckoo never so?

Tita. I pray thee, gentle morta!, sing again :
Mine ear is much enamoured of thy roic,
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move ne,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.

Bor. Vethinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days: the more the pity, that some honest reighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon the occasion.

Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

Bot. No so, neither : but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. 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 so,
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.

Peas-blossom! Cobweb ! Voth! and Mustard-seed !
ist Fairy. Ready
2d Fairy.

And I. 3d Fairy.

And I. 4th. Fairy.

Where shall we go? Tita. 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 thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed, and to arise ;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:

Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
ist Fairy. Hail mortal!
2d Fairy.

Hail ! 3d Fairy.

Hail ! 4th Fairy.

Hail ! Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I beseech your worship's name.

Cob. Cobweb.

Bot. I shall desire of you more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman?

Peas. Peas-blossom.

Bot. I pray you to remember me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peas-blossom, I shall desire of you more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech

you,

sir ? Mus. Mustard-seed.

Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like, ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman cf your house: I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire of you more acquaintance, good Vaster Mustard-seed. Tita. Come wait upon him; lead him to my bower.

The moon, methinks, looks with a wat’ry eye;
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up love's tongue, and bring him silently.

Bot.

The luxurious reduplication of the rhyme in this exquisite passage, has been noticed by Mr. Hazlitt.

Again, in act the fourth :

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,

While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,

And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Bot. Where's Peas-blossom?
Peas. Ready

leave your

your will?

Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb?
Cok Ready:
Bot. Monsieur l'ubweb; good Monsieur, get your weapons

in

your hands, and kill me a red-hipp'd humble bee on the top of a thistle; and good Monsieur, bring me the honey-bay. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, Monsieur; and, good Monsiu, luve a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflow with a honey-bag, Signor. Where's Jonsieur Mustard-seed?

Mus. Ready.

Bot. Give me your neif, Monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, courtesy, good Monsieur.

Nus. What's

Bot. Nothing, good Monsieur, but to help Cavalero Peas-blossom to scratch. I must to the barber's, Monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.

Titir. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?

Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones.

T'ita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to eat.

Bot. Truly a peck of provencer; I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay; good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek

The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be always away.

(Exeunt fairies. So doth the wood-bine the sweet honey-suckle Gently entwist, — the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. 0, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!

THE FAIRIES BLESS A HOL'SE AT NIGHT-TIME.

Enter Puck.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide :
And we fairies that do run

By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolick; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house;
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON an l TITANIA with their train.

Oberon. Through this house give glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, aster me,

Sing and dance it trippingly.
Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote,

To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

SONG AND DANCE.

Oberon. Now, until the break of day,

Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue, there create,
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be:
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand:
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait!

And cach several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace :
E’er shall it in safety rest,
And the owner of it be blest.

Trip away;

Make no stay:
Meet me all by break of clay.

It is with clifficulty that in these, and indeed in all our quotations, we refrain from marking particular passages. One longs to vent one's feelings, like positive grappling with the lines ; and besides, we have the temptation of the reader's company to express our admiration. But we fear to do injustice to what we should leave unmarked ; and indeed to be thought impatient with the others. Luckily where all is beautiful, the choice would often be difficult, if we stopped to make any; and if we did not, we should be printing nothing but italics.

Queen Mal), as the author of the "Fairy Mythology" remarks, has certainly dethroned Titania ; but we cannot help thinking that both he, and the poets who have helped to dethrone her, are in the wrong ; and that Voss is right, when he rejects the royalty of both monosyllables. Queen or quean is old English for woman, and is still applied to females in an ill sense. Now Wah is the fairies' midwife, plebeian by office, indiscriminate in her visits, and descending so low as to make elf-locks, and plait the manes of horses. We have little doubt that she is styled queen in an equivocal sense, between a mimicry of state and something abusive; and that the word Jlab comes from the same housewife origin as llop, loppet, and N10b-Cap. The a was most likely pronounced broad; as in Mall for Moll, Malkin for Maukin ; and Queen illab is perhaps the quean in the Mob-cap, — the midwife riding in her chariot, but still vulgar; and acting some such part with regard to

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