, whose own mother's marriage had been so unhappy, will
sympathise with Puck when he says of the lovers:--

"Those things do best please me
That fall out preposterously,"

or,

"Lord! What fools these mortals be!"

A mad frolic now begins in fairyland. Puck stirs up all sorts of
complications by squeezing the magic flower juice on the wrong eyes with
such sad results that Titania falls in love with the weaver, Bottom,
with the ass's head on his shoulders; the two friends, Hermia and
Helena, rail at each other over the seeming desertion of their lovers.
But in the morning, the spell having been removed and each lover
restored to his proper relations, the rivals become once more true
friends. The fairy King and Queen also have become reconciled, and
prepare to celebrate the double wedding of the mortals with sports and
revels throughout their fairy kingdom.

[Illustration: Queen Elizabeth in her Later Years]

The fifth act restores the lower stage and the palace of Theseus. His
wedding festivities have begun. The hard-handed men of Athens perform
their crude interlude, made all the more grotesque by the awkwardness
of Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. In the character of Thisbe, it
is his part to fall upon the sword and die, thus ending the play.
Imagine the delight of the courtly auditors when the clumsy man in the
part of the disconsolate lady falls, not upon the blade, but upon the
scabbard of the unfamiliar weapon!

But laughter and applause are arrested by the appearance of a bright,
transparent cloud. It reaches from heaven to earth, and bourne in upon
it, with music and with song, are Oberon, Titania, and their elfin
train. The cloud parts, and Puck steps forth to speak the epilogue:--

"If we shadows have offended
Think but this, and all is mended.
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear."

The Christmas play is over, but not over the Christmas fun. Lords and
ladies are but human, and have devised a "stately dance," in which
they themselves participate until nearly sunrise, the Queen herself
joining at times, and never so happy as when assured of her "wondrous
majesty and grace."

Did they--did any one--at this Christmas play of three hundred years ago
feel the full charm and glory of this immortal creation of the poet? Did
its lines ring in their ears the next day, and the next, and the next?
Did they foresee how its rhythm would dance