Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tit. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamored of an ass.

Ober. There lies your love.
Tit.
How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

Ober. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.-
Titania, music call; and strike more dead

Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.

Tit. Music! ho! music! such as charmeth sleep.
Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

Ober. Sound music! [still music.] Come, my queen, take hand
with me,

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.

Now thou and I are new in amity,

And will to-morrow midnight, solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:

There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark;

I do hear the morning lark.

Ober. Then, my queen, in silence sad,*
Trip we after the night's shade.

We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

Tit. Come, my lord, and in our flight
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground.

5 Come from the farthest steep of India.

Shakspeare understood the charm of remoteness in poetry, as le did everything else. Oberon has been dancing on the sunny steeps looking towards Cathay, where the

[Exeunt. [Horns sound within

Chinese drive
Their cany waggons light.

Sad.-Grave, serious (not melancholy).

THE BRIDAL HOUSE BLESSED BY THE FAIRIES.

Enter PUCK.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,6
And the wolf behowls the moon,
While the heavy ploughman snores,

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

Whilst the scritch-owl scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in wo,

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 churchway 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 and TITANIA, with their train.

Ober. 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 after 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 the place.

SONG AND DANCE.

Ober. Now, until the break of day,
Through the house each fairy stray,

6" Now the hungry lion roars:”—Upon the songs of Puck and Oberon, Coleridge exclaims, "Very Anacreon in perfectness, proportion, and spontaneity! So far it is Greek; but then add, O! what wealth, what wild rangings and yet what compression and condensation of English fancy! In truth, there is nothing in Anacreon more perfect than these thirty lines, or half so rich and imaginative. They form a speckless diamond."-Literary Remains, vol. ii., p. 114.

LOVERS AND MUSIC.

LORENZO and JESSICA, awaiting the return home of PORTIA and NERISSA, discourse of music, and then welcome with it the bride and her attendant.

Lor. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,"
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,

And they did make no noise,-in such a night
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,
And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents,8
Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes.
In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,"
And ran dismay'd away.

Lor.

In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love To come again to Carthage.

Jes.
In such a night
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs11
That did renew old son.
Lor.
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew;
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,
As far as Belmont.

Jes.

And in such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well; Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one.

Lor.
And in such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come;
But, hark; I hear the footing of a man.

Enter STEPHANO.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Step. A friend.

Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?

Step. Stephano is my name; and I bring word

My mistress will, before the break of day,

Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about

By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.

Lor. Who comes with her?

Step. None but a holy hermit and her maid

Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their coming.

And yet no matter; why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.

[Exit STEPHANO.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon the bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep into our ears; soft stillness and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines* of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st,12
But in her motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims ;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.

Enter MUSICIANS.

Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,

A race of youthful and unhanded colts,

Fetching mad bounds,―bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;

If they but hear, perchance, a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand-
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods,
Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change its nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.

[Music.

* Patines (Patine, Paténe, Ital.) have been generally understood to mean plates of gold or silver used in the Catholic service. A new and interesting commentator, however (the Rev. Mr. Hunter), is of opinion that the proper word is patterns.