the story of borusara and the story of sasusaku's and others

a midsummer-night's dream

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Shakespeare Story-Book, by Mary Macleod.

Helena and Hermia

Theseus, Duke of Athens, was to wed Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, and the whole city was given up to merriment in honour of the occasion. Theseus had won his bride by the sword, but he was to wed her in another fashion—with pomp, with triumph, and with revelling. Four days had yet to elapse before the marriage, and during that time the citizens of Athens were to busy themselves with preparations for the great event.

In the midst of the general rejoicing, a gentleman of Athens, by name Egeus, came to invoke the authority of the Duke. Full of vexation, he came to complain against his child, his daughter Hermia. Egeus wished her to marry a certain gentleman called Demetrius; but meanwhile Hermia had already fallen in love with another gentleman called Lysander, and she declared she would marry no one but Lysander.

Now, the law of Athens at that time gave full power to a father to dispose of his daughter as he chose; that is to say, if she declined to marry the man he selected, the father had power to put her to death or to shut her up in a convent.

The Duke of Athens gave Hermia four days to make her choice. At the end of that time she must either consent to marry Demetrius, in accordance with her father’s wishes, or else she must retire to a convent for the rest of her days.

Hermia answered without hesitation: she would rather be shut up in a convent all her life than marry a man she did not love.

Lysander himself pleaded that he was in every way as suitable a match as Demetrius—quite as well born and equally wealthy. Beyond all this, he was beloved of Hermia. Why, then, should he not try to win her? Besides, he added, Demetrius had already paid court to another lady—Helena—and had won her heart; and this sweet lady was still devoted to this fickle and unworthy man.

“I must confess I have heard of this, and I intended to speak to Demetrius on the subject,” said the Duke. “But being so overfull of my own affairs, the matter slipped out of my mind. But come, Demetrius, and come, Egeus, I wish to speak to you both in private. As for you, fair Hermia, see that you prepare to obey your father’s will, or else the law of Athens which I have no power to alter, yields you up to death or to a vow of single life.”

The Duke went off with Egeus and Demetrius, and Hermia and Lysander were left alone. They were very sorry for themselves, and began to lament the misfortunes and the difficulties that always seem to beset the path of true love.

Hermia was inclined to submit without further struggle, but Lysander was not going to give in so easily, and he hurriedly unfolded a plan to save Hermia from the fate that lay before her.

“I have a widow aunt, very wealthy, who has no child,” he said. “Her house is seven leagues distant from Athens, and she treats me as her own son. There, gentle Hermia, I can marry you, and in that place the sharp law of Athens cannot touch us. If you love me, then, steal from your father’s house to-morrow night, and I will wait for you a league outside the town, in that wood where I met you once with Helena, gathering flowers before the dawn on the first of May.”

“My good Lysander!” cried Hermia, hiding her real earnestness under half-jesting words, “I swear to you by Cupid’s strongest bow—by his best arrow with the golden head—and by all the vows that ever men broke, that I will truly meet you to-morrow in the place you have appointed.”

“Keep promise, love. Look! here comes Helena.”

From their earliest days Helena and Hermia had been the dearest of friends and the closest of companions, never apart, either at work or play, growing up together side by side, like a double cherry, or two lovely berries moulded on one stem.