SCENE II. ATHENS. A Room in QUINCE's House. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quince. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet? Starveling. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported. Flute. If he come not, then the play is marred; It goes not forward, doth it? Quince. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he. Flute. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens. Quince. Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice. Flute. You must say, paragon: a paramour is a thing of nought. Enter SNUG. Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men. Flute. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing. Enter BOTTOM. Bottom. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? Quince. Bottom!-O most courageous day! O most happy hour! Bottom. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for, if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. Quince. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. Bottom. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined: Get your apparel together; SEAM Qrua d STARVE house! Out of lay is m e not & It he good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go, away.. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS. Hippolyta. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. Theseus. More strange than true. I never may believe Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Such tricks hath strong imagination; Or, in the night, imagining some fear, Hippolyta. But all the story of the night told over, And grows to something of great constancy; Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA. Theseus. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth,— Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love, Accompany your hearts! Lysander. More than to us Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed! Theseus. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours, Call Philostrate. Philostrate. Here, mighty Theseus. Theseus. Say what abridgments have you for this evening? What mask? what musick? How shall we beguile Philostrate. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe; Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper. THESEUS. [Reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung, By an Athenian songster to the harp, We'll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage. That is an old device; and it was play'd A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, Which is as brief as I have known a play; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which never labour'd in their minds till now, Theseus. And we will hear it. Philostrate. No, my noble lord, It is not for you: I have heard it over, Theseus. I will hear that play; For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in ;-and take your places, ladies. [Exit PHILOSTRATE. Hippolyta. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing. Theseus. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, Enter PHILOSTRATE Philostrate. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.7 Theseus. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter PROLOGUE. PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good-will. We do not come as minding to content you. That should here repent you. you Ready |