Page 2693 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2693
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem’d all one mutual cry; I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
T HESEUS
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew’d, so sanded; and their heads are hung [120]
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee’d and dewlapp’d like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells,
Each under each; a cry more tuneable
Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn, [125]
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly.
Judge when you hear. But soft, what nymphs are these?
EGEUS
My lord, this is my daughter here asleep,
And this Lysander; this Demetrius is,
This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena. [130]
I wonder of their being here together.
T HESEUS
No doubt they rose up early, to observe
The rite of May; and hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
But speak, Egeus; is not this the day [135]
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
EGEUS
It is, my lord.
T HESEUS
Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
Shout within; winding of horns. The lovers wake and start up.
Good-morrow friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? [140]
LY SANDER
Pardon, my lord.
(The lovers kneel.)
