“Unkind Hermia,” said Helena, “it is you have set Lysander on, to vex 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 king fairy, 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 toward 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 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 enamored 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,” she said 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-bags break not; I should be sorry to have you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?”