Excerpt from The Plays of William Shakspeare, Vol. 3 of 8: Complete, in Eight Volumes

Now fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour

Draws on apace; four happy days bring in

Another moon: but, oh, methinks, how flow

This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,

Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,

Long withering out a young man"s revenue.

Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights;

Four nights will quickly dream away the time;

And then the moon, like to a silver bow

New bent in heaven, shall behold the night

Of our solemnities.

The. Go, Philostrate,

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;

Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;

Turn melancholy forth to funerals,

The pale companion is not for our pomp.

Hippolita, I woo"d thee with my sword,

And won thy love, doing thee injuries;

But I will wed thee in another key,

With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.

Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!

The. Thanks, good Egeus: What"s the news with thee?

Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia, -

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