Whatever is joyful and makes the world glad,
That is my lot to do.
I never am weary, I never am sad,
For my work my play is too.
Celio. He smiles; our number does not anger him.
List; he will tell us now unheard-of news.
Torello. Felice, Bruno! are you by?
Felice. We are here. Whisper softly, or you may break the spell.
Torello. Who are those that talk and sing?
Felice. I hear no talking and singing. The charm is acting: these
voices which we cannot hear herald the approach of your deliverer.
Torello. I hope so; but perhaps it is my imagination. Have you really
heard nothing? There were first several who spoke, and Eulalie's voice
among them, and then an angel sang. O, that some one would come! It is
horribly cold standing here.
Bruno. Patience, patience.
Scipio. Patience, sir, is a great virtue.
Torello. But love is a greater; for were I not in love, I would have
no patience.
1st Fairy. The pleasance of our starry residence,
In human, bald speech inenarrable,
Transcends your dreams of Arcady and Eden.
Yet every year we all descend to earth,
Because our memories are steeped in joy,
Which was our ancient mundane element
When men were heroes and the world was young,
And life was laughter, love, and noble spleen:—
Alas, for you, poor actors! in Heaven's sight
Ye play an after-piece abjectly low!—
Also, because there are—how few they be!—
Who love true riches and despise the false,
We leave our unimagined paradise
Upon the first night that fair Pleiad, May,
Begins her soft ascendance o'er the year,
And bringing summer with us, visit earth.
Even now I see our elfin nation come,
Descending like a shower of frosty snow
For lightness, and for loveliness like Iris
Speeding in rainbow colours through night's gloom.
Look how the lightning or the light doth pass:
So have the fairies travelled from their star;
They left a minute since, and here they are.
Enter Oberon, Titania, Puck, and the Fairies. The Fairies dance and sing.
Song.
Weave the dance and sing the song;
Subterranean depths prolong
The rainy patter of our feet;
Heights of air are rendered sweet
By our singing. Let us sing,
Breathing softly, fairily,
Swelling sweetly, airily,
Till earth and sky our echo ring.
Rustling leaves chime with our song;
Fairy bells its close prolong,
Ding-dong, ding-dong.
Philomel, sing loud and high,
Leader of our minstrelsy;
No owl hoot, or raven cry;
All glad sounds join harmony,
And let no faintest discord sigh.
Crickets chirrup merrily,
And grasshoppers cheerily,
Till our echo thrill the sky.
Rustling leaves chime with our song:
Fairy bells its close prolong,
Ding-dong, ding-dong.
Eulalie. This is the harmony that filled my dream.
Rupert. Perfumes of lilies, roses, violets—
Sweeter far than they: such a rich gust
Of warmth and scent they flood the air withal.
Celio. That is Titania with the golden hair,
And wreath of moon-flowers pale, which shows, methinks,
Like lightning round the sun.
Sylvia. And see, her robe!
It's a new colour. O, it aches my eyes!
Rupert. And Oberon's a king, a very king.
Eulalie. My dream—this is my dream!
Rupert. And to thy dream
I'll tell thee how I played god Morpheus.
But now with these good neighbours let us talk.
Eulalie. No; let us feast our eyes and then our ears.
Torello. More music and voices! This is no imagination: it is the
charm's doing. I will say it again profounder. Shemhamphorash.
Rupert. Moonlight and madness! What a howl was that!
Celio. What stands in the mid-stream?
Sylvia. A man, bound, blinded.
Eulalie. It is Torello, sure.
Rupert. And I see two
Who know full well how he comes in this plight.
What's Puck about?
[Puck liberates Torello.
Torello. O hell! art thou the devil? Felice, Bruno, take this imp
away. Ha! what sights are here? Angels, and fairies, and Eulalie and
Rupert! Perdition! O perdition!
Felice. Be calm. Who unbound you?
Torello. This little grinning demon.
Felice. Where?
Torello. Here, on my shoulder. Do you not see him? And all this
crowding crowd, and Rupert and Eulalie? Do you not? Do you not see them?
Ah me! you cannot; for it is a vision. I will not suffer it. My doom is
sealed. Farewell, fair Eulalie, farewell. Avaunt thou hairy fiend! Thou
shalt not have me. O, you pinch me! Oh! oh!
[Torello runs out tormented by Puck.
Puck re-enters shortly.
Rupert. This is the wildest prank; we'll hear its source another time.
Celio. Should not our queen of May interview the Fairies?
Rupert. Well bethought.
Eulalie. Then I'll begin with thee. What elves are these,
Thou seem'st to lead in ordered companies?
2nd Fairy. That the fairy army is,
Clad in rose-leaves, bravely worn;
Pollen far outshines gold lace;
Their helmets bright are husks of corn;
Quivers of the adder's slough;
Bows of legs of spiders slain;
A cob-web string is strong enough
For a spear-grass arrow's strain,
With the sting of hornet tipped,
In the dew of hemlock dipped.
Eulalie. And what are you, ye varied, restless ones?
3rd Fairy. We the fairies are who sleep,
Blanketed and pillowed deep
In the golden, blooming folds
Of nightly-cradled marigolds.
Some with evening's blushes meek
Tinge the peach's downy cheek.
Feathers stolen from butterflies
Make our pencils: all the dyes
Of all the flowers we fairies know
How bright daffodils to gild
In the saffron sunrise glow;
To launder lilies in the snow;
When midnight all the air has filled
We dip in purple gloom the pansy;
When Cupid over-rules our fancy
For our loves we make incision;
The daisies with our blood we dight,
Loosened from its veined prison;
When we haste upon our mission
In a moonless, starless night,
Fireflies, glow-worms lend us light.
Eulalie. Come hither, little brownie, dark and green.
I prithee, tell me what thy fellows bin.
4th Fairy. Wood-elves they, in russet dressed,
And they love the lindens best.
Hark, they hum our antique rune!
A human fiddler learned the tune,
And played it at a merry-making:
Still he plays; the clowns still dance
In a jolly, jigging trance;
For them to rest there is no waking,
Till that fiddler learn to play
Backward our elfin melody.
Eulalie. And what are ye so beauteously dressed?
5th Fairy. River-spirits, golden-tressed,
With blue eye, and light-blue vest.
None can sing so sweet as we,
Joyfully or mournfully;
And our chant is ever ringing:
Such a spell is in our singing,
Every listener hears aright
His own thought from the water-sprite.
Eulalie. And ye?
6th Fairy. We are sea-nymphs, sea-green-haired,
Liquid-voiced and liquid-eyed.
We will float with bosoms bared
On old Neptune's happy tide;
There our filmy smocks to bleach
In the sun, and soft west wind;
Mortals, gazing from the beach
Think them foam-crests, fairy-blind.
Eulalie. And ye, the fairiest of all the fairies?
7th Fairy. We are most ethereal sprites,
Draped in merging rainbow lights.
Perfume is our dainty food;
Ever varying is our mood.
Sometimes in a rose we shine;
Now a girl's face make divine
For her sweetheart, lying hid
In her blush, or her eyelid:
Unfelt we swing upon a hair:
To be lovely's our sole care.
Sylvia. Titania waves her wand. O, will she speak?
Titania. All manner of delight attend your loves:
That you are lovers tasks no intuition:
And we rejoice to think Cythera's son
His ancient craft plies with unbated skill,
Though there be some who hold he fled long since
For ever from his earthly hunting-ground,
While a usurper courses his preserves—
A hideous dwarf, disguised, who blindness feigns
And shoots forged bolts that are indeed of gold,
But cast in Hades, of no heavenly ore,
Lacking love's temper, and sweet-poisoned barb.
Truth has its part herein, sad sooth to tell;
For many a fight has Cupid with his foe,
And much the issue of their war is feared
In skyey quarters: well it is for you
That ye are lovers orthodox and true.
Every good wish is in this that I say—
May you be lovers till your dying day.
Wilt thou say something to them, Oberon?
Oberon. Bless you, fair lovers—benedicite.
Kind damsels, let me kiss you.
Titania. Nay—why, then,
If thou wilt kiss the maids, I'll kiss the men.
[They do accordingly.
Oberon. Mortals, farewell for ever and a day.
To-night we fairies wend the wide world round;
And this our visitation each new May
To summer sweetness mellows air and ground.
The winds kiss from our lips a perfumed spoil,
And store the pillaged wealth in woods and bowers;
Each fairy footstep swift impregns the soil,
And in our wake we leave a foam of flowers.
In orchard blossoms from our odoured hair
We shake rich drops that flavour all the fruit;
Nor lacks the grain our much-availing care!
Each thing is blessed where comes a fairy foot:
We bless all bridals true, all love that's chaste.—
Now, fairies, to the sea with utmost haste!
[Oberon, Titania, and the Fairies go out.
Puck. Every trick that erst I played
On horse or ox, on man or maid,
On jealous husband, grandam old;
On timid wight, or braggart bold,
On lazy slut, or busy lass—
To whom I through the keyhole pass,
Pinching slattern black and blue,
A tester dropping in thrift's shoe—
To-night I merrily repeat,
And all sight and hearing cheat.
Willy-wisp, spoorn, hag, or faun,
Urchin, changeling, pixy, pan,
All these shapes and names I bear,
Pressing like a dread nightmare
Full-fed losels, half-awake,
Rustling like the fierce fire-drake,
Shouting loud the whole night long
Witching spell or laughing song.
Voice. Come, come, come along!
Puck. Hark! 'twas Oberon who cried
From the sandy wet seaside.
Voice. Come, come, come away!
Puck. I'll be with you, princely fay,
Ere again those words you say.
[Goes out.
Eulalie. Hush!
Felice. This sport is o'er. We must go seek Torello.
[Felice, Bruno, and Scipio go out.
Cinthio. Come, Faustine; this bright mask is played and done.
Fair pioneers, we'll follow you anon.
[Cinthio and Faustine go out.
Enter Green and Ivy, tipsy.
Ivy. By the light of Hecate's lamp—lamp, lamp? What rhymes with
lamp! Scamp? cramp?
Green. Damp.
Ivy. Damp? Good.
By the light of Hecate's lamp,
May all poetry be damned;
And each stupid poet-scamp,
May his invention take the cramp!
There! that's genius!
Sylvia. O Celio, come! I cannot bear these fools.
[Celio and Sylvia go out.
Ivy. Here be people!
Green. And here be more!