Henry Brocken

I your tr

anoth

M SHAKE

cunningly had ivy and blackberry and bindw

dering eyes on me, her mane in elf locks, her flanks heaving and wet, her forelock frizzed like a colt's. Yet she showed only pleasur

moon above the valley brightened, casting pale beams upon the folded roses and drooping branches, if populous d

forward, a nightingale burst close against my ear into so passionat

l in some distant thicket broke into song, and far and near their voices echoed above the elfin din of timbre

he deeper umbrage of some loftier tree, I espied the pattering hosts-creatures my D

ing fungus, a lovely company floated of an insubstantiality subtile as

moonbeams as dream to crush such airy beings. Ever and again a gossamer company would soar like a spider on his magic thread, and float with a whisper of remotest

r, and by the freshness and added sweetness of the air it seemed dawn must be near, when, on a sudden, a harsh, preposterous voice broke on my ear, and

n but set him capering. Prithee your mousemilk hand on this smooth brow, mistress! Your nectar throbbeth like a blacksmith's anvil. Master Moth, draw you these bristling lashes down, they mirk the stars and call yon nothing Quince to mind-a vain, official knave, in and out, to and fro, play or pleasure; and old Sam Snout, the wanton! Lad's days and

himmering like a bride-cake. The sky was dark above the tapering trees, but here in the secret woods light seemed to cling in flake and scarf. And it so ch

p. Whiffle your tufted bee's wing, Signior Cobweb, I beseech you-a little fiery devil with four eyes floats in my brain, and flame's a frisky bedfellow. Avaunt! ava

ante back in

. "There's nought can harm thee in these silvered woods: no bird that pipes

that coal-piffling Prince of Flies! I'm Bottom the weaver, I am. He knows not his mother's ring-finger that knows not Nick Bottom. Back, back, ye jigg

f the Philistine) at peace: and I might gaze unperceived. The moon filled his mossy cubicle with her untrembling beams, stream

illusive music. I dared not move, scarce wink; for much as imm

ling; like too, I grant, one who ached not a little after jolts and jars and the phantasmal mists of this engendering air. But none stirred, nor went

d one whom by his primrose face and mien I took to