Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
     And ye that on the sands with printless foot
     Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
     When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that
     By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
     Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
     Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
     To hear the solemn curfew, by whose aid
     (Weak masters tho’ ye be) I have be-dimm’d
     The noon-tide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,
     And ’twixt the green sea and the azur’d vault
     Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder
     Have I giv’n fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak
     With his own bolt; the strong-bas’d promontory
     Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d up
     The pine and cedar:  graves at my command
     Have wak’d their sleepers; op’d, and let ’em forth
     By my so potent art.  But this rough magic
     I here abjure; and when I have requir’d
     Some heav’nly music, which ev’n now I do,
     (To work mine end upon their senses that
     This airy charm is for) I’ll break my staff,
     Bury it certain fadoms in the earth,
     And deeper than did ever plummet sound,
     I’ll drown my book.

We must not forget to mention among other things in this play, that Shakespeare has anticipated nearly all the arguments on the Utopian schemes of modern philosophy: 

Gonzalo.  Had I the plantation of this isle, my lord—­Antonio.  He’d sow’t with nettle-seed.  Sebastian.  Or docks or mallows.  Gonzalo.  And were the king on’t, what would I do?  Sebastian.  ’Scape being drunk, for want of wine.  Gonzalo.  I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things:  for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; wealth, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation, all men idle, all, And women too; but innocent and pure:  No sov’reignty.  Sebastian.  And yet he would be king on’t.  Antonio.  The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.  Gonzalo.  All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour.  Treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance To feed my innocent people!  Sebastian.  No marrying ’mong his subjects?  Antonio.  None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.  Gonzalo.  I would with such perfection govern, sir, T’ excel the golden age.  Sebastian.  Save his majesty!

THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

Bottom the Weaver is a character that has not had justice done him.  He is the most romantic of mechanics.  And what a list of companions he has—­Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Joiner, Flute the Bellows-mender, Snout the Tinker, Starveling the Tailor; and then again, what a group of fairy attendants, Puck, Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed!  It has been observed that Shakespeare’s characters are constructed upon deep physiological principles; and there is something in this play which looks very like it.  Bottom the Weaver, who takes the lead of