Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Tita. How came these things to pass? 0, how mine eyes do loath his visage now! Obe. Silence a while!-Robin, take off this head!- eyes peep. Obe. Sound, music! [Still music.] Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be! And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly, There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, [Exeunt. [Horns sound within. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train. The. Go, one of you, find out the forester!For now our observation is perform'd: And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds.Uncouple in the western valley; go:Despatch, I say, and find the forester !We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction. Hip. Iwas with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd inmouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: Judge, when you hear.-But, soft; what nymphs are these? Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; I wonder of their being here together. The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. Horns and shout within. DEMETRIUS, LYSANDER, HER- [He and the rest kneel to Theseus. I I came with Hermiahither: our intent Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: I beg the law, the law upon his head. They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me: You, of your wife; and me, of my consent; Of my consent, that she should be your wife. But, my good lord, I wot not, by what power, [Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train. Hel. Somethinks: And I have found Demetrius, like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own. Dem. It seems to me, That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you think, Hel. And Hippolyta. Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow him; And, by the way, let us recount our dreams! [Exeunt. As they go out, BOTTOм awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: -my next is, Most fair Pyramus.-Hey, ho!- Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! St arveling! God's mylife! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, SCENE II.—Athens. Aroom in Quince's house. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELing. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet? Star. 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? Quin. 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 handy craft man in Athens. Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice. Flute. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, 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 six pence 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. And, as imagination bodies forth Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? Quin. Bottom!-0 most courageous day! O most happy hour! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed! Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together; 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. А С Т V. To wear away this long age of three hours, SCENE I.-The same. An apartment in the palace of Theseus. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords, and Attendants. Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. The. More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Philost. Here, might Theseus. The. [reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be By an Athenian eunuch, to the harp. Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words Which is as brief, as I have known a play; Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The. What are they that do play it? Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it. Philost. No, my noble lord, It is not for you: I have heard it over, Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, The. 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! 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. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest. Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. We are not here. That you should here repent you, Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue, like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Enter PYRAMUS and THISBE, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion, as in dumb show. Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show; But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. "This man is Pyramus, if you would know; "This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. "This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present "Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder: "And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content "To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. "This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, "Presenteth moon-shine: for, if you will know, "By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn, To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. "This grisly beast, which by name lion hight, "The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, "Did scare away, or rather did affright: "And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall; "Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain: "Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, "And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: "Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, "He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; "And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade, "His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, "Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse, while here they do remain." [Exeunt Prol. Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. Wall. "In this same interlude, it doth befall, "That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: "And such a wall, as I would have you think, "That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, "Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, "Did whisper often very secretly. "This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show "That I am that same wall; the truth is so: "And this the cranny is, right and sinister, "Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper." The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Dem. It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard discourse, my lord. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! Pyr. "grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art, when day is not! O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!"And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, "That stand'st between her father's ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. "Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill." Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straight-| way?" This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay." Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And being done, thus wall away doth go. [Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. Enter Lion and Moonshine. Lion. "You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear "The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, "May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, "When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. "Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am "A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: "For if I should as lion come in strife "Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. "But stay;-O spite! "O dainty duck! O dear! แ "Thy mantle good, (6 What, stain'd with blood? "Approach, ye furies fell! "O fates! come, come; The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present." Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present; "Myself the man i'th'moon do seem to be.” The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: how is it else the man i'the moon? Pyr. "O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear: "Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, "That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. 66 Come, tears, confound; "Out, sword, and wound "The pap of Pyramus: Ay, that left pap, "Where heart doth hop: "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. "Now am I dead, "Now am I fled; "My soul is in the sky: "Tongue, lose thy light! "Moon, take thy flight! "Now die,die, die, die,die." [Dies.-Exis Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by star-light. comes; and her passion ends the play. Enter THISBE. Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief. [The lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes. Enter PYRAMUS. Pyr. "Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. ar to h [Dies. The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Aye, and wall too. Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between two of our company? The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himselfin Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone! [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed! In nightly revels, and new jollity. SCENE II. Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, That the graves, all gaping wide, To sweep the dust behind the door. [Exeunt. Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train. Obe. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf, and fairy sprite, [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, Else the Puck a liar call. So, good night unto you all! Give me your hands, if we be friends, [Exit. |