There was a law in the city of Athens
which gave to its citizens the power of compelling
their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased;
for upon a daughter’s refusing to marry the man
her father had chosen to be her husband, the father
was empowered by this law to cause her to be put to
death; but as fathers do not often desire the death
of their own daughters, even though they do happen
to prove a little refractory, this law was seldom
or never put in execution, though perhaps the young
ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened
by their parents with the terrors of it.
There was one instance, however, of
an old man, whose name was Egeus, who actually did
come before Theseus (at that time the reigning Duke
of Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia,
whom he had commanded to marry Demetrius, a young
man of a noble Athenian family, refused to obey him,
because she loved another young Athenian, named Lysander.
Egeus demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that
this cruel law might be put in force against his daughter.
Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience,
that Demetrius had formerly professed love for her
dear friend Helena, and that Helena loved Demetrius
to distraction; but this honourable reason, which Hermia
gave for not obeying her father’s command, moved
not the stern Egeus.
Theseus, though a great and merciful
prince, had no power to alter the laws of his country;
therefore he could only give Hermia four days to consider
of it: and at the end of that time, if she still
refused to marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
When Hermia was dismissed from the
presence of the duke, she went to her lover Lysander,
and told him the peril she was in, and that she must
either give him up and marry Demetrius, or lose her
life in four days.
Lysander was in great affliction at
hearing these evil tidings; but recollecting that
he had an aunt who lived at some distance from Athens,
and that at the place where she lived the cruel law
could not be put in force against Hermia (this law
not extending beyond the boundaries of the city),
he proposed to Hermia that she should steal out of
her father’s house that night, and go with him
to his aunt’s house, where he would marry her.
“I will meet you,” said Lysander, “in
the wood a few miles without the city; in that delightful
wood where we have so often walked with Helena in
the pleasant month of May.”
To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed;
and she told no one of her intended flight but her
friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do foolish
things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and
tell this to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit
from betraying her friend’s secret, but the
poor pleasure of following her faithless lover to
the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius would go
thither in pursuit of Hermia.
The wood, in which Lysander and Hermia
proposed to meet was the favourite haunt of those
little beings known by the name of Fairies.
Oberon the king, and Titania the queen
of the Fairies, with all their tiny train of followers,
in this wood held their midnight revels.
Between this little king and queen
of sprites there happened, at this time, a sad disagreement;
they never met by moonlight in the shady walks of
this pleasant wood, but they were quarrelling, till
all their fairy elves would creep into acorn-cups
and hide themselves for fear.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement
was Titania’s refusing to give Oberon a little
changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania’s
friend; and upon her death the fairy queen stole the
child from its nurse, and brought him up in the woods.
The night on which the lovers were
to meet in this wood, as Titania was walking with
some of her maids of honour, she met Oberon attended
by his train of fairy courtiers.
“Ill met by moonlight, proud
Titania,” said the fairy king. The queen
replied, “What, jealous Oberon, is it you?
Fairies, skip hence; I have forsworn his company.”
“Tarry, rash fairy,” said Oberon; “am
not I thy lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon?
Give me your little changeling boy to be my page.”
“Set your heart at rest,”
answered the queen; “your whole fairy kingdom
buys not the boy of me.” She then left her
lord in great anger. “Well, go your way,”
said Oberon: “before the morning dawns I
will torment you for this injury.”
Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief
favourite and privy counsellor.
Puck, (or as he was sometimes called,
Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd and knavish sprite,
that used to play comical pranks in the neighbouring
villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming
the milk, sometimes plunging his light and airy form
into the butter-churn, and while he was dancing his
fantastic shape in the churn, in vain the dairy-maid
would labour to change her cream into butter:
nor had the village swains any better success; whenever
Puck chose to play his freaks in the brewing copper,
the ale was sure to be spoiled. When a few good
neighbours were met to drink some comfortable ale together,
Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness
of a roasted crab, and when some old goody was going
to drink he would bob against her lips, and spill
the ale over her withered chin; and presently after,
when the same old dame was gravely seating herself
to tell her neighbours a sad and melancholy story,
Puck would slip her three-legged stool from under
her, and down toppled the poor old woman, and then
the old gossips would hold their sides and laugh at
her, and swear they never wasted a merrier hour.
“Come hither, Puck,” said
Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the night;
“fetch me the flower which maids call Love
in Idleness; the juice of that little purple flower
laid on the eyelids of those who sleep, will make
them, when they awake, dote on the first thing they
see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop
on the eyelids of my Titania when she is asleep; and
the first thing she looks upon when she opens her
eyes she will fall in love with, even though it be
a lion or a bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape;
and before I will take this charm from off her sight,
which I can do with another charm I know of, I will
make her give me that boy to be my page.”
Puck, who loved mischief to his heart,
was highly diverted with this intended frolic of his
master, and ran to seek the flower; and while Oberon
was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius
and Helena enter the wood: he overheard Demetrius
reproaching Helena for following him, and after many
unkind words on his part, and gentle expostulations
from Helena, reminding him of his former love and professions
of true faith to her, he left her (as he said) to
the mercy of the wild beasts, and she ran after him
as swiftly as she could.
The fairy king, who was always friendly
to true lovers, felt great compassion for Helena;
and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk by
moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have
seen Helena in those happy times when she was beloved
by Demetrius. However that might be, when Puck
returned with the little purple flower, Oberon said
to his favourite, “Take a part of this flower;
there has been a sweet Athenian lady here, who is
in love with a disdainful youth; if you find him sleeping,
drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive
to do it when she is near him, that the first thing
he sees when he awakes may be this despised lady.
You will know the man by the Athenian garments which
he wears.” Puck promised to manage this
matter very dexterously: and then Oberon went,
unperceived by Titania, to her bower, where she was
preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a
bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets,
under a canopy of wood-bine, musk-roses, and eglantine.
There Titania always slept some part of the night;
her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which,
though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy
in.
He found Titania giving orders to
her fairies, how they were to employ themselves while
she slept. “Some of you,” said her
majesty, “must kill cankers in the musk-rose
buds, and some wage war with the bats for their leathern
wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of you
keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots,
come not near me: but first sing me to sleep.”
Then they began to sing this song:
“You spotted snakes with double
tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms do no wrong
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night with lullaby.”
When the fairies had sung their queen
asleep with this pretty lullaby, they left her to
perform the important services she had enjoined them.
Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropped
some of the love-juice on her eyelids, saying,
“What thou seest when thou dost
wake,
Do it for thy true-love take.”
But to return to Hermia, who made
her escape out of her father’s house that night,
to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to
marry Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she
found her dear Lysander waiting for her, to conduct
her to his aunt’s house; but before they had
passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued,
that Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady,
who had proved her affection for him even by hazarding
her life for his sake, persuaded her to rest till
morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down himself
on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell
fast asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who,
seeing a handsome young man asleep, and perceiving
that his clothes were made in the Athenian fashion,
and that a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded
that this must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful
lover whom Oberon had sent him to seek; and he naturally
enough conjectured that, as they were alone together,
she must be the first thing he would see when he awoke;
so, without more ado, he proceeded to pour some of
the juice of the little purple flower into his eyes.
But it so fell out, that Helena came that way, and,
instead of Hermia, was the first object Lysander beheld
when he opened his eyes; and strange to relate, so
powerful was the love-charm, all his love for Hermia
vanished away, and Lysander fell in love with Helena.
Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke,
the blunder Puck committed would have been of no consequence,
for he could not love that faithful lady too well;
but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm
to forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another
lady, and leave Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood
at midnight, was a sad chance indeed.
Thus this misfortune happened.
Helena, as has been before related, endeavoured to
keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely
from her; but she could not continue this unequal
race long, men being always better runners in a long
race than ladies. Helena soon lost sight of Demetrius;
and as she was wandering about, dejected and forlorn,
she arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping.
“Ah!” said she, “this is Lysander
lying on the ground: is he dead or asleep?”
Then, gently touching him, she said, “Good sir,
if you are alive, awake.” Upon this Lysander
opened his eyes, and (the love-charm beginning to work)
immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant love
and admiration; telling her she as much excelled Hermia
in beauty as a dove does a raven, and that he would
run through fire for her sweet sake; and many more
such lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing Lysander
was her friend Hermia’s lover, and that he was
solemnly engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage
when she heard herself addressed in this manner; for
she thought (as well she might) that Lysander was
making a jest of her. “Oh!” said
she, “why was I born to be mocked and scorned
by every one? Is it not enough, is it not enough,
young man, that I can never get a sweet look or a
kind word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend
in this disdainful manner to court me? I thought,
Lysander, you were a lord of more true gentleness.”
Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and
Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia,
who was still asleep.
When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad
fright at finding herself alone. She wandered
about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander,
or which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime
Demetrius not being able to find Hermia and his rival
Lysander, and fatigued with his fruitless search,
was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had
learnt by some questions he had asked of Puck, that
he had applied the love-charm to the wrong person’s
eyes; and now having found the person first intended,
he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with
the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first
thing he saw being Helena, he, as Lysander had done
before, began to address love-speeches to her; and
just at that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia (for
through Puck’s unlucky mistake it was now become
Hermia’s turn to run after her lover) made his
appearance; and then Lysander and Demetrius, both
speaking together, made love to Helena, they being
each one under the influence of the same potent charm.
The astonished Helena thought that
Demetrius, Lysander, and her once dear friend Hermia,
were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.
Hermia was as much surprised as Helena:
she knew not why Lysander and Demetrius, who both
before loved her, were now become the lovers of Helena;
and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.
The ladies, who before had always
been the dearest of friends, now fell to high words
together.
“Unkind Hermia,” said
Helena, “it is you have set Lysander on to vex
me with mock praises; and your other lover Demetrius,
who used almost to spurn me with his foot, have you
not bid him call me Goddess, Nymph, rare, precious,
and celestial? He would not speak thus to me,
whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a
jest of me. Unkind Hermia, to join with men in
scorning your poor friend. Have you forgot our
school-day friendship? How often, Hermia, have
we two, sitting on one cushion, both singing one song,
with our needles working the same flower, both on
the same sampler wrought; growing up together in fashion
of a double cherry, scarcely seeming parted! Hermia,
it is not friendly in you, it is not maidenly to join
with men in scorning your poor friend.”
“I am amazed at your passionate
words,” said Hermia: “I scorn you
not; it seems you scorn me.” “Ay,
do,” returned Helena, “persevere, counterfeit
serious looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my
back; then wink at each other, and hold the sweet
jest up. If you had any pity, grace, or manners,
you would not use me thus.”
While Helena and Hermia were speaking
these angry words to each other, Demetrius and Lysander
left them, to fight together in the wood for the love
of Helena.
When they found the gentlemen had
left them, they departed, and once more wandered weary
in the wood in search of their lovers.
As soon as they were gone, the fairy
king, who with little Puck had been listening to their
quarrels, said to him, “This is your negligence,
Puck; or did you do this wilfully?” “Believe
me, king of shadows,” answered Puck, “it
was a mistake; did not you tell me I should know the
man by his Athenian garments? However, I am not
sorry this has happened, for I think their jangling
makes excellent sport.” “You heard,”
said Oberon, “that Demetrius and Lysander are
gone to seek a convenient place to fight in.
I command you to overhang the night with a thick fog,
and lead these quarrelsome lovers so astray in the
dark, that they shall not be able to find each other.
Counterfeit each of their voices to the other, and
with bitter taunts provoke them to follow you, while
they think it is their rival’s tongue they hear.
See you do this, till they are so weary they can go
no farther; and when you find they are asleep, drop
the juice of this other flower into Lysander’s
eyes, and when he awakes he will forget his new love
for Helena, and return to his old passion for Hermia;
and then the two fair ladies may each one be happy
with the man she loves, and they will think all that
has passed a vexatious dream. About this quickly,
Puck, and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania
has found.”
Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon
seeing a clown near her, who had lost his way in the
wood, and was likewise asleep: “This fellow,”
said he, “shall be my Titania’s true love;”
and clapping an ass’s head over the clown’s,
it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown upon
his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass’s
head on very gently, it awakened him, and rising up,
unconscious of what Oberon had done to him, he went
towards the bower where the fairy queen slept.
“Ah! what angel is that I see?”
said Titania, opening her eyes, and the juice of the
little purple flower beginning to take effect:
“are you as wise as you are beautiful?”
“Why, mistress,” said
the foolish clown, “if I have wit enough to find
the way out of this wood, I have enough to serve my
turn.”
“Out of the wood do not desire
to go,” said the enamoured queen. “I
am a spirit of no common rate. I love you.
Go with me, and I will give you fairies to attend
upon you.”
She then called four of her fairies:
their names were, Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and
Mustard-seed.
“Attend,” said the queen,
“upon this sweet gentleman; hop in his walks,
and gambol in his sight; feed him with grapes and apricots,
and steal for him the honey-bags from the bees.
Come, sit with me,” said she to the clown, “and
let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my beautiful
ass! and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy!”
“Where is Pease-blossom?”
said the ass-headed clown, not much regarding the
fairy queen’s courtship, but very proud of his
new attendants.
“Here, sir,” said little Pease-blossom.
“Scratch my head,” said the clown.
“Where is Cobweb?”
“Here, sir,” said Cobweb.
“Good Mr. Cobweb,” said
the foolish clown, “kill me the red humble bee
on the top of that thistle yonder; and, good Mr. Cobweb,
bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself
too much in the action, Mr. Cobweb, and take care
the honey-bag break not; I should be sorry to have
you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?”
“Here, sir,” said Mustard-seed: “what
is your will?”
“Nothing,” said the clown,
“good Mr. Mustard-seed, but to help Mr. Pease-blossom
to scratch; I must go to a barber’s, Mr. Mustard-seed,
for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.”
“My sweet love,” said
the queen, “what will you have to eat? I
have a venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel’s
hoard, and fetch you some new nuts.”
“I had rather have a handful
of dried pease,” said the clown, who with his
ass’s head had got an ass’s appetite.
“But, I pray, let none of your people disturb
me, for I have a mind to sleep.”
“Sleep, then,” said the
queen, “and I will wind you in my arms.
O how I love you! how I dote upon you!”
When the fairy king saw the clown
sleeping in the arms of his queen, he advanced within
her sight, and reproached her with having lavished
her favours upon an ass.
This she could not deny, as the clown
was then sleeping within her arms, with his ass’s
head crowned by her with flowers.
When Oberon had teased her for some
time, he again demanded the changeling boy; which
she, ashamed of being discovered by her lord with
her new favourite, did not dare to refuse him.
Oberon, having thus obtained the little
boy he had so long wished for to be his page, took
pity on the disgraceful situation into which, by his
merry contrivance, he had brought his Titania, and
threw some of the juice of the other flower into her
eyes; and the fairy queen immediately recovered her
senses, and wondered at her late dotage, saying how
she now loathed the sight of the strange monster.
Oberon likewise took the ass’s
head from off the clown, and left him to finish his
nap with his own fool’s head upon his shoulders.
Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly
reconciled, he related to her the history of the lovers,
and their midnight quarrels; and she agreed to go
with him and see the end of their adventures.
The fairy king and queen found the
lovers and their fair ladies, at no great distance
from each other, sleeping on a grass-plot; for Puck,
to make amends for his former mistake, had contrived
with the utmost diligence to bring them all to the
same spot, unknown to each other; and he had carefully
removed the charm from off the eyes of Lysander with
the antidote the fairy king gave to him.
Hermia first awoke, and finding her
lost Lysander asleep so near her, was looking at him
and wondering at his strange inconstancy. Lysander
presently opening his eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia,
recovered his reason which the fairy charm had before
clouded, and with his reason, his love for Hermia;
and they began to talk over the adventures of the
night, doubting if these things had really happened,
or if they had both been dreaming the same bewildering
dream.
Helena and Demetrius were by this
time awake; and a sweet sleep having quieted Helena’s
disturbed and angry spirits, she listened with delight
to the professions of love which Demetrius still made
to her, and which, to her surprise as well as pleasure,
she began to perceive were sincere.
These fair night-wandering ladies,
now no longer rivals, became once more true friends;
all the unkind words which had passed were forgiven,
and they calmly consulted together what was best to
be done in their present situation. It was soon
agreed that, as Demetrius had given up his pretensions
to Hermia, he should endeavour to prevail upon her
father to revoke the cruel sentence of death which
had been passed against her. Demetrius was preparing
to return to Athens for this friendly purpose, when
they were surprised with the sight of Egeus, Hermia’s
father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway
daughter.
When Egeus understood that Demetrius
would not now marry his daughter, he no longer opposed
her marriage with Lysander, but gave his consent that
they should be wedded on the fourth day from that time,
being the same day on which Hermia had been condemned
to lose her life; and on that same day Helena joyfully
agreed to marry her beloved and now faithful Demetrius.
The fairy king and queen, who were
invisible spectators of this reconciliation, and now
saw the happy ending of the lovers’ history,
brought about through the good offices of Oberon, received
so much pleasure, that these kind spirits resolved
to celebrate the approaching nuptials with sports
and revels throughout their fairy kingdom.
And now, if any are offended with
this story of fairies and their pranks, as judging
it incredible and strange, they have only to think
that they have been asleep and dreaming, and that all
these adventures were visions which they saw in their
sleep: and I hope none of my readers will be
so unreasonable as to be offended with a pretty harmless
Midsummer Night’s Dream.