Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE
By CHARLES & MARY LAMB
ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR RACKHAM
_WEATHERVANE BOOKS NEW YORK_
Copyright © MCMLXXV by Crown Publishers, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 75-18860
All rights reserved.
This edition is published by Weathervane Books, a division of Barre
Publishing Company, Inc.
Manufactured in the United States of America
PREFACE
The following Tales are meant to be submitted to the young reader as an
introduction to the study of Shakespeare, for which purpose his words
are used whenever it seemed possible to bring them in; and in whatever
has been added to give them the regular form of a connected story,
diligent care has been taken to select such words as might least
interrupt the effect of the beautiful English tongue in which he wrote:
therefore, words introduced into our language since his time have been
as far as possible avoided.
In those tales which have been taken from the Tragedies, the young
readers will perceive, when they come to see the source from which these
stories are derived, that Shakespeare's own words, with little
alteration, recur very frequently in the narrative as well as in the
dialogue; but in those made from the Comedies the writers found
themselves scarcely ever able to turn his words into the narrative form:
therefore it is feared that, in them, dialogue has been made use of too
frequently for young people not accustomed to the dramatic form of
writing. But this fault, if it be a fault, has been caused by an earnest
wish to give as much of Shakespeare's own words as possible: and if the
"_He said_," and "_She said_," the question and the reply, should
sometimes seem tedious to their young ears, they must pardon it, because
it was the only way in which could be given to them a few hints and
little foretastes of the great pleasure which awaits them in their elder
years, when they come to the rich treasures from which these small and
valueless coins are extracted; pretending to no other merit than as
faint and imperfect stamps of Shakespeare's matchless image. Faint and
imperfect images they must be called, because the beauty of his language
is too frequently destroyed by the necessity of changing many of his
excellent words into words far less expressive of his true sense, to
make it read something like prose; and even in some few places, where
his blank verse is given unaltered, as hoping from its simple plainness
to cheat the young readers into the belief that they are reading prose,
yet still his language being transplanted from its own natural soil and
wild poetic garden, it must want much of its native beauty.
It has been wished to make these Tales easy reading for very young
children. To the utmost of their ability the writers have constantly
kept this in mind; but the subjects of most of them made this a very
difficult task. It was no easy matter to give the histories of men and
women in terms familiar to the apprehension of a very young mind. For
young ladies too, it has been the intention chiefly to write; because
boys being generally permitted the use of their fathers' libraries at a
much earlier age than girls are, they frequently have the best scenes of
Shakespeare by heart, before their sisters are permitted to look into
this manly book; and, therefore, instead of recommending these Tales to
the perusal of young gentlemen who can read them so much better in the
originals, their kind assistance is rather requested in explaining to
their sisters such parts as are hardest for them to understand: and when
they have helped them to get over the difficulties, then perhaps they
will read to them (carefully selecting what is proper for a young
sister's ear) some passage which has pleased them in one of these
stories, in the very words of the scene from which it is taken; and it
is hoped they will find that the beautiful extracts, the select
passages, they may choose to give their sisters in this way will be much
better relished and understood from their having some notion of the
general story from one of these imperfect abridgments;--which if they
be fortunately so done as to prove delightful to any of the young
readers, it is hoped that no worse effect will result than to make them
wish themselves a little older, that they may be allowed to read the
Plays at full length (such a wish will be neither peevish nor
irrational). When time and leave of judicious friends shall put them
into their hands, they will discover in such of them as are here
abridged (not to mention almost as many more, which are left untouched)
many surprising events and turns of fortune, which for their infinite
variety could not be contained in this little book, besides a world of
sprightly and cheerful characters, both men and women, the humour of
which it was feared would be lost if it were attempted to reduce the
length of them.
What these Tales shall have been to the _young_ readers, that and much
more it is the writers' wish that the true Plays of Shakespeare may
prove to them in older years--enrichers of the fancy, strengtheners of
virtue, a withdrawing from all selfish and mercenary thoughts, a lesson
of all sweet and honourable thoughts and actions, to teach courtesy,
benignity, generosity, humanity: for of examples, teaching these
virtues, his pages are full.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE TEMPEST 1
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM 14
THE WINTER'S TALE 27
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 39
AS YOU LIKE IT 53
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 71
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 85
CYMBELINE 102
KING LEAR 117
MACBETH 136
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 148
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 162
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 174
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 190
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 206
TIMON OF ATHENS 221
ROMEO AND JULIET 236
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK 255
OTHELLO 272
PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE 287
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PERDITA
WHEN CALIBAN WAS LAZY AND NEGLECTED HIS WORK,
ARIEL WOULD COME SLILY AND PINCH HIM
WHERE IS PEASE-BLOSSOM?
PAULINA DREW BACK THE CURTAIN WHICH CONCEALED
THIS FAMOUS STATUE
GANYMEDE ASSUMED THE FORWARD MANNERS OFTEN
SEEN IN YOUTHS WHEN THEY ARE BETWEEN BOYS
AND MEN
IMOGEN'S TWO BROTHERS THEN CARRIED HER TO A
SHADY COVERT
CORDELIA
THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE STRANGE APPEARANCE
OF THREE FIGURES
PETRUCHIO, PRETENDING TO FIND FAULT WITH EVERY
DISH, THREW THE MEAT ABOUT THE FLOOR
SHE BEGAN TO THINK OF CONFESSING THAT SHE WAS
A WOMAN
AT THE CELL OF FRIAR LAWRENCE
TO THIS BROOK OPHELIA CAME
[Illustration]
THE TEMPEST
There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which
were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a
very beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young, that she
had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.
They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock; it was divided into
several apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there he
kept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time
much affected by all learned men: and the knowledge of this art he found
very useful to him; for being thrown by a strange chance upon this
island, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who died
there a short time before his arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his art,
released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of
large trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked commands.
These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Prospero.
Of these Ariel was the chief.
[Illustration: WHEN CALIBAN WAS LAZY AND NEGLECTED HIS WORK, ARIEL WOULD
COME SLILY AND PINCH HIM]
The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature,
except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly
monster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the son
of his old enemy Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods, a
strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape: he took him
home to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero would have been
very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his
mother Sycorax, would not let him learn anything good or useful:
therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch wood, and do the most
laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these
services.
When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel (who was invisible
to all eyes but Prospero's) would come slily and pinch him, and
sometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel, in the likeness
of an ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape, in
the likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way, who
feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With a
variety of such-like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him,
whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to do.
Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could by
their means command the winds, and the waves of the sea. By his orders
they raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling with
the wild sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up, he
showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full of
living beings like themselves. "O my dear father," said she, "if by your
art you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad
distress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! they
will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the earth,
rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the precious
souls within her."
"Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Prospero; "there is no harm
done. I have so ordered it, that no person in the ship shall receive any
hurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You are
ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more of
me, but that I am your father, and live in this poor cave. Can you
remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, for
you were not then three years of age."
"Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda.
"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me what
you can remember, my child."
Miranda said, "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But had
I not once four or five women who attended upon me?"
Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it that this still lives
in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"
"No, sir," said Miranda, "I remember nothing more."
"Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, "I was Duke of Milan,
and you were a princess, and my only heir. I had a younger brother,
whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and as I was fond
of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of my state
affairs to your uncle, my false brother (for so indeed he proved). I,
neglecting all worldly ends, buried among my books, did dedicate my
whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio being thus in
possession of my power, began to think himself the duke indeed. The
opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my subjects
awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my dukedom:
this he soon effected with the aid of the King of Naples, a powerful
prince, who was my enemy."
"Wherefore," said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"
"My child," answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the love
that my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when we
were some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat, without
either tackle, sail, or mast: there he left us, as he thought, to
perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, had
privately placed in the boat, water, provisions, apparel, and some books
which I prize above my dukedom."
"O my father," said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to you
then!"
"No, my love," said Prospero, "you were a little cherub that did
preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me bear up against my
misfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island, since
when my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and well have
you profited by my instructions."
"Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. "Now pray tell me,
sir, your reason for raising this sea-storm?"
"Know then," said her father, "that by means of this storm, my enemies,
the King of Naples, and my cruel brother, are cast ashore upon this
island."
Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic
wand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then presented
himself before his master, to give an account of the tempest, and how he
had disposed of the ship's company, and though the spirits were always
invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she should hear him
holding converse (as would seem to her) with the empty air.
"Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you performed
your task?"
Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the terrors of the
mariners; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who leaped
into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up by
the waves and lost. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in a corner of the
isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting the loss of the
king, his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a hair of his head is
injured, and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea-waves,
look fresher than before."
"That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring him hither: my
daughter must see this young prince. Where is the king, and my brother?"
"I left them," answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom they have
little hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the ship's
crew not one is missing; though each one thinks himself the only one
saved: and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the harbour."
"Ariel," said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed: but there
is more work yet."
"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you have
promised me my liberty. I pray, remember, I have done you worthy
service, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge
or grumbling."
"How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freed
you from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and
envy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me."
"Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel.
"O was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been, which
I find you do not remember. This bad witch, Sycorax, for her
witch-crafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished from
Algiers, and here left by the sailors; and because you were a spirit too
delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a tree,
where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free you from."
"Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "I
will obey your commands."
"Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." He then gave orders
what further he would have him do; and away went Ariel, first to where
he had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the
same melancholy posture.
"O my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon move
you. You must be brought, I find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight
of your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing,
"Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell."
This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from the
stupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the sound
of Ariel's voice, till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who were
sitting under the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen a
man before, except her own father.
"Miranda," said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder."
"O father," said Miranda, in a strange surprise, "surely that is a
spirit. Lord! how it looks about! Believe me, sir, it is a beautiful
creature. Is it not a spirit?"
"No, girl," answered her father; "it eats, and sleeps, and has senses
such as we have. This young man you see was in the ship. He is somewhat
altered by grief, or you might call him a handsome person. He has lost
his companions, and is wandering about to find them."
Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and grey beards like her
father, was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful young
prince; and Ferdinand, seeing such a lovely lady in this desert place,
and from the strange sounds he had heard, expecting nothing but
wonders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that Miranda was
the goddess of the place, and as such he began to address her.
She timidly answered, she was no goddess, but a simple maid, and was
going to give him an account of herself, when Prospero interrupted her.
He was well pleased to find they admired each other, for he plainly
perceived they had (as we say) fallen in love at first sight: but to try
Ferdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some difficulties in their
way: therefore advancing forward, he addressed the prince with a stern
air, telling him, he came to the island as a spy, to take it from him
who was the lord of it. "Follow me," said he, "I will tie you neck and
feet together. You shall drink sea-water; shell-fish, withered roots,
and husks of acorns shall be your food." "No," said Ferdinand, "I will
resist such entertainment, till I see a more powerful enemy," and drew
his sword; but Prospero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the spot
where he stood, so that he had no power to move.
Miranda hung upon her father, saying, "Why are you so ungentle? Have
pity, sir; I will be his surety. This is the second man I ever saw, and
to me he seems a true one."
"Silence," said the father: "one word more will make me chide you, girl!
What! an advocate for an impostor! You think there are no more such fine
men, having seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish girl, most
men as far excel this, as he does Caliban." This he said to prove his
daughter's constancy; and she replied, "My affections are most humble. I
have no wish to see a goodlier man."
"Come on, young man," said Prospero to the Prince; "you have no power to
disobey me."
"I have not indeed," answered Ferdinand; and not knowing that it was by
magic he was deprived of all power of resistance, he was astonished to
find himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero: looking back on
Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went after Prospero
into the cave, "My spirits are all bound up, as if I were in a dream;
but this man's threats, and the weakness which I feel, would seem light
to me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair maid."
Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell: he soon
brought out his prisoner, and set him a severe task to perform, taking
care to let his daughter know the hard labour he had imposed on him, and
then pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them both.
Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood.
Kings' sons not being much used to laborious work, Miranda soon after
found her lover almost dying with fatigue. "Alas!" said she, "do not
work so hard; my father is at his studies, he is safe for these three
hours; pray rest yourself."
"O my dear lady," said Ferdinand, "I dare not. I must finish my task
before I take my rest."
"If you will sit down," said Miranda, "I will carry your logs the
while." But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a help
Miranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so that
the business of log-carrying went on very slowly.
Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his
love, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was standing
by them invisible, to overhear what they said.
Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against her
father's express command she did so.
Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's
disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall in
love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by
forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to a long
speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above all the
ladies he ever saw.
In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the
women in the world, she replied, "I do not remember the face of any
woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my
dear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but, believe me, sir,
I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my
imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fear
I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget."
At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "This
goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be Queen of Naples."
And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for young princes speak
in courtly phrases), told the innocent Miranda he was heir to the crown
of Naples, and that she should be his queen.
"Ah! sir," said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I will
answer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will marry
me."
Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before them.
"Fear nothing, my child," said he; "I have overheard, and approve of all
you have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I will
make you rich amends, by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were
but trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the test. Then as my
gift, which your true love has worthily purchased, take my daughter, and
do not smile that I boast she is above all praise." He then, telling
them that he had business which required his presence, desired they
would sit down and talk together till he returned; and this command
Miranda seemed not at all disposed to disobey.
When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quickly
appeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's
brother and the King of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out
of their senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them to
see and hear. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for want
of food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet, and then,
just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them in the
shape of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the feast vanished
away. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming harpy spoke to them,
reminding them of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom,
and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea; saying,
that for this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them.
The King of Naples, and Antonio the false brother, repented the
injustice they had done to Prospero; and Ariel told his master he was
certain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit, could
not but pity them.
"Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero: "if you, who are but a
spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being like
themselves, have compassion on them? Bring them, quickly, my dainty
Ariel."
Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in their
train, who had followed him, wondering at the wild music he played in
the air to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the
same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and
provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish
in an open boat in the sea.
Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses, that they did not know
Prospero. He first discovered himself to the good old Gonzalo, calling
him the preserver of his life; and then his brother and the king knew
that he was the injured Prospero.
Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true repentance,
implored his brother's forgiveness, and the king expressed his sincere
remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother: and Prospero
forgave them; and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedom, he said
to the King of Naples, "I have a gift in store for you too;" and opening
a door, showed him his son Ferdinand playing at chess with Miranda.
Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this
unexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in the
storm.
"O wonder!" said Miranda, "what noble creatures these are! It must
surely be a brave world that has such people in it."
The King of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and
excellent graces of the young Miranda, as his son had been. "Who is this
maid?" said he; "she seems the goddess that has parted us, and brought
us thus together." "No, sir," answered Ferdinand, smiling to find his
father had fallen into the same mistake that he had done when he first
saw Miranda, "she is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she is mine; I
chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your consent, not
thinking you were alive. She is the daughter to this Prospero, who is
the famous Duke of Milan, of whose renown I have heard so much, but
never saw him till now: of him I have received a new life: he has made
himself to me a second father, giving me this dear lady."
"Then I must be her father," said the king; "but oh! how oddly will it
sound, that I must ask my child forgiveness."
"No more of that," said Prospero: "let us not remember our troubles
past, since they so happily have ended." And then Prospero embraced his
brother, and again assured him of his forgiveness; and said that a wise
over-ruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from his
poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might inherit the crown of
Naples, for that by their meeting in this desert island, it had happened
that the king's son had loved Miranda.
These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother,
so filled Antonio with shame and remorse, that he wept and was unable to
speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation,
and prayed for blessings on the young couple.
Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbour, and the
sailors all on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany
them home the next morning. "In the meantime," says he, "partake of such
refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening's
entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first landing
in this desert island." He then called for Caliban to prepare some food,
and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished at the
uncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who (Prospero
said) was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.
Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel from his service, to
the great joy of that lively little spirit; who, though he had been a
faithful servant to his master, was always longing to enjoy his free
liberty, to wander uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, under
green trees, among pleasant fruits, and sweet-smelling flowers. "My
quaint Ariel," said Prospero to the little sprite when he made him free,
"I shall miss you; yet you shall have your freedom." "Thank you, my dear
master," said Ariel; "but give me leave to attend your ship home with
prosperous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance of your
faithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, how merrily I shall
live!" Here Ariel sung this pretty song:
"Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie:
There I crouch when owls do cry
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough."
Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical books and wand, for
he was resolved never more to make use of the magic art. And having thus
overcome his enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the King
of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happiness, but to
revisit his native land, to take possession of his dukedom, and to
witness the happy nuptials of his daughter and Prince Ferdinand, which
the king said should be instantly celebrated with great splendour on
their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe convoy of the
spirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage, soon arrived.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
There was a law in the city of Athens which gave to its citizens the
power of compelling their daughters to marry whomsoever they pleased;
for upon a daughter's refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to
be her husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause her to be
put to death; but as fathers do not often desire the death of their own
daughters, even though they do happen to prove a little refractory, this
law was seldom or never put in execution, though perhaps the young
ladies of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their parents
with the terrors of it.
There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose name was Egeus,
who actually did come before Theseus (at that time the reigning Duke of
Athens), to complain that his daughter Hermia, whom he had commanded to
marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian family, refused to obey
him, because she loved another young Athenian, named Lysander. Egeus
demanded justice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel law might be
put in force against his daughter.
Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that Demetrius had
formerly professed love for her dear friend Helena, and that Helena
loved Demetrius to distraction; but this honourable reason, which Hermia
gave for not obeying her father's command, moved not the stern Egeus.
Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no power to alter the
laws of his country; therefore he could only give Hermia four days to
consider of it: and at the end of that time, if she still refused to
marry Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the duke, she went to her
lover Lysander, and told him the peril she was in, and that she must
either give him up and marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four days.
Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil tidings; but
recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at some distance from Athens,
and that at the place where she lived the cruel law could not be put in
force against Hermia (this law not extending beyond the boundaries of
the city), he proposed to Hermia that she should steal out of her
father's house that night, and go with him to his aunt's house, where he
would marry her. "I will meet you," said Lysander, "in the wood a few
miles without the city; in that delightful wood where we have so often
walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May."
To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed; and she told no one of her
intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena (as maidens will do
foolish things for love) very ungenerously resolved to go and tell this
to Demetrius, though she could hope no benefit from betraying her
friend's secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless lover
to the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius would go thither in
pursuit of Hermia.
The wood, in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to meet was the
favourite haunt of those little beings known by the name of _Fairies_.
Oberon the king, and Titania the queen of the Fairies, with all their
tiny train of followers, in this wood held their midnight revels.
Between this little king and queen of sprites there happened, at this
time, a sad disagreement; they never met by moonlight in the shady walks
of this pleasant wood, but they were quarrelling, till all their fairy
elves would creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's refusing to give
Oberon a little changeling boy, whose mother had been Titania's friend;
and upon her death the fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and
brought him up in the woods.
The night on which the lovers were to meet in this wood, as Titania was
walking with some of her maids of honour, she met Oberon attended by his
train of fairy courtiers.
"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the fairy king. The queen
replied, "What, jealous Oberon, is it you? Fairies, skip hence; I have
forsworn his company." "Tarry, rash fairy," said Oberon; "am not I thy
lord? Why does Titania cross her Oberon? Give me your little changeling
boy to be my page."
"Set your heart at rest," answered the queen; "your whole fairy kingdom
buys not the boy of me." She then left her lord in great anger. "Well,
go your way," said Oberon: "before the morning dawns I will torment you
for this injury."
Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favourite and privy counsellor.
Puck, (or as he was sometimes called, Robin Goodfellow) was a shrewd and
knavish sprite, that used to play comical pranks in the neighbouring
villages; sometimes getting into the dairies and skimming the milk,
sometimes plunging his light and airy form into the butter-churn, and
while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the churn, in vain the
dairy-maid would labour to change her cream into butter: nor had the
village swains any better success; whenever Puck chose to play his
freaks in the brewing copper, the ale was sure to be spoiled. When a few
good neighbours were met to drink some comfortable ale together, Puck
would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted crab, and
when some old goody was going to drink he would bob against her lips,
and spill the ale over her withered chin; and presently after, when the
same old dame was gravely seating herself to tell her neighbours a sad
and melancholy story, Puck would slip her three-legged stool from under
her, and down toppled the poor old woman, and then the old gossips would
hold their sides and laugh at her, and swear they never wasted a merrier
hour.
"Come hither, Puck," said Oberon to this little merry wanderer of the
night; "fetch me the flower which maids call _Love in Idleness_; the
juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyelids of those who
sleep, will make them, when they awake, dote on the first thing they
see. Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my
Titania when she is asleep; and the first thing she looks upon when she
opens her eyes she will fall in love with, even though it be a lion or a
bear, a meddling monkey, or a busy ape; and before I will take this
charm from off her sight, which I can do with another charm I know of, I
will make her give me that boy to be my page."
Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly diverted with this
intended frolic of his master, and ran to seek the flower; and while
Oberon was waiting the return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and Helena
enter the wood: he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for following
him, and after many unkind words on his part, and gentle expostulations
from Helena, reminding him of his former love and professions of true
faith to her, he left her (as he said) to the mercy of the wild beasts,
and she ran after him as swiftly as she could.
The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, felt great
compassion for Helena; and perhaps, as Lysander said they used to walk
by moonlight in this pleasant wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in
those happy times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However that might
be, when Puck returned with the little purple flower, Oberon said to his
favourite, "Take a part of this flower; there has been a sweet Athenian
lady here, who is in love with a disdainful youth; if you find him
sleeping, drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive to do it
when she is near him, that the first thing he sees when he awakes may be
this despised lady. You will know the man by the Athenian garments which
he wears." Puck promised to manage this matter very dexterously: and
then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her bower, where she was
preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower was a bank, where grew wild
thyme, cowslips, and sweet violets, under a canopy of wood-bine,
musk-roses, and eglantine. There Titania always slept some part of the
night; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which, though a small
mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they were to employ
themselves while she slept. "Some of you," said her majesty, "must kill
cankers in the musk-rose buds, and some wage war with the bats for their
leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some of you keep watch
that the clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, come not near me: but first
sing me to sleep." Then they began to sing this song:--
"You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms do no wrong
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night with lullaby."
When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this pretty lullaby,
they left her to perform the important services she had enjoined them.
Oberon then softly drew near his Titania, and dropped some of the
love-juice on her eyelids, saying,--
"What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take."
But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of her father's house
that night, to avoid the death she was doomed to for refusing to marry
Demetrius. When she entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander
waiting for her, to conduct her to his aunt's house; but before they had
passed half through the wood, Hermia was so much fatigued, that
Lysander, who was very careful of this dear lady, who had proved her
affection for him even by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded her
to rest till morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down himself on
the ground at some little distance, they soon fell fast asleep. Here
they were found by Puck, who, seeing a handsome young man asleep, and
perceiving that his clothes were made in the Athenian fashion, and that
a pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that this must be the
Athenian maid and her disdainful lover whom Oberon had sent him to seek;
and he naturally enough conjectured that, as they were alone together,
she must be the first thing he would see when he awoke; so, without more
ado, he proceeded to pour some of the juice of the little purple flower
into his eyes. But it so fell out, that Helena came that way, and,
instead of Hermia, was the first object Lysander beheld when he opened
his eyes; and strange to relate, so powerful was the love-charm, all his
love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander fell in love with Helena.
Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder Puck committed would
have been of no consequence, for he could not love that faithful lady
too well; but for poor Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm to
forget his own true Hermia, and to run after another lady, and leave
Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a sad chance
indeed.
Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been before related,
endeavoured to keep pace with Demetrius when he ran away so rudely from
her; but she could not continue this unequal race long, men being always
better runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon lost sight of
Demetrius; and as she was wandering about, dejected and forlorn, she
arrived at the place where Lysander was sleeping. "Ah!" said she, "this
is Lysander lying on the ground: is he dead or asleep?" Then, gently
touching him, she said, "Good sir, if you are alive, awake." Upon this
Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm beginning to work)
immediately addressed her in terms of extravagant love and admiration;
telling her she as much excelled Hermia in beauty as a dove does a
raven, and that he would run through fire for her sweet sake; and many
more such lover-like speeches. Helena, knowing Lysander was her friend
Hermia's lover, and that he was solemnly engaged to marry her, was in
the utmost rage when she heard herself addressed in this manner; for she
thought (as well she might) that Lysander was making a jest of her.
"Oh!" said she, "why was I born to be mocked and scorned by every one?
Is it not enough, is it not enough, young man, that I can never get a
sweet look or a kind word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must pretend in
this disdainful manner to court me? I thought, Lysander, you were a lord
of more true gentleness." Saying these words in great anger, she ran
away; and Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, who
was still asleep.
When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding herself alone.
She wandered about the wood, not knowing what was become of Lysander, or
which way to go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius not being
able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with his
fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep. Oberon had learnt
by some questions he had asked of Puck, that he had applied the
love-charm to the wrong person's eyes; and now having found the person
first intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius with
the love-juice, and he instantly awoke; and the first thing he saw being
Helena, he, as Lysander had done before, began to address love-speeches
to her; and just at that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia (for
through Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia's turn to run
after her lover) made his appearance; and then Lysander and Demetrius,
both speaking together, made love to Helena, they being each one under
the influence of the same potent charm.
The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysander, and her once
dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot together to make a jest of her.
Hermia was as much surprised as Helena: she knew not why Lysander and
Demetrius, who both before loved her, were now become the lovers of
Helena; and to Hermia the matter seemed to be no jest.
The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of friends, now fell
to high words together.
"Unkind Hermia," said Helena, "it is you have set Lysander on to vex me
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 fairy king, 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 towards 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 foolish 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 enamoured 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.
[Illustration: WHERE IS PEASE-BLOSSOM?]
"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," said she 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-bag break not; I should be sorry to have you
overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-seed?"
"Here, sir," said Mustard-seed: "what is your will?"
"Nothing," said the clown, "good Mr. Mustard-seed, but to help Mr.
Pease-blossom to scratch; I must go to a barber's, Mr. Mustard-seed, for
methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face."
"My sweet love," said the queen, "what will you have to eat? I have a
venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch you some new
nuts."
"I had rather have a handful of dried pease," said the clown, who with
his ass's head had got an ass's appetite. "But, I pray, let none of your
people disturb me, for I have a mind to sleep."
"Sleep, then," said the queen, "and I will wind you in my arms. O how I
love you! how I dote upon you!"
When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms of his queen, he
advanced within her sight, and reproached her with having lavished her
favours upon an ass.
This she could not deny, as the clown was then sleeping within her arms,
with his ass's head crowned by her with flowers.
When Oberon had teased her for some time, he again demanded the
changeling boy; which she, ashamed of being discovered by her lord with
her new favourite, did not dare to refuse him.
Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so long wished for to
be his page, took pity on the disgraceful situation into which, by his
merry contrivance, he had brought his Titania, and threw some of the
juice of the other flower into her eyes; and the fairy queen immediately
recovered her senses, and wondered at her late dotage, saying how she
now loathed the sight of the strange monster.
Oberon likewise took the ass's head from off the clown, and left him to
finish his nap with his own fool's head upon his shoulders.