The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen!
Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought, I was enamour'd of an ass.
Obe. There lies your love.

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!-
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita. Music, ho! music; such as charmeth sleep.
Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's

eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, music! [Still music.] Come, my queen, take hands with me,

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be!
Now thou and I are new in amity;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:

There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade;
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals on the ground.

[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;
And this Lysander; this Demetrius is ;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:

I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.-
But, speak, Egens; is not this the day,
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege. It is, my lord.

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their

horns.

Horns and shout within. DEMETRIUS, LYSANDER, HER-
MIA, and HELENA, wake and start up.
The.Good-morrow, friends! Saint Valentine is past;
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys. Pardon, my lord.

[He and the rest kneel to Theseus.
The. I pray you all, stand up!
Iknow, you are two rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
Lys. My lord, Ishall reply amazedly,
Half'sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,
cannot truly say how I came here:
But, as I think, (for truly would I speak,-
And now I do bethink me, so it is ;)

I came with Hermiahither: our intent
Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the peril of the Ahenian law.

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.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them;
Fair Helena in fancy following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not, by what power,
(But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia,
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,
Which in my childhood I did dote upon:
And all the faith and virtue of my heart,
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia;
But, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.
The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we will hear more anon.—
Egeus, I will overbear
will;
your
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.-
Away, with us, to Athens! Three and three,
We'll hold a feast of great solemnity.—
Come, Hippolyta!

[Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.
Dem. These things seem small, and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.

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,
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her. Yea; and my father.

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,
dream,-past the wit of man to say, what dream it was: Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. More, than cool reason ever comprehends.
Methought I was there is no man can tell what. Me- The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
thought I was, and methought I had,-but man is but a Are of imagination all compact:
patched fool, if he will offer to say, what methought I One sees more devils, than vast hell can hold;
had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
hath not seen: man's hand is not able to taste, his Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
this dream it shall be called Bottom's Dream, be- heaven;
cause it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter
end of a play, before the duke. Peradventure, to make
it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit.

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
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imaginations
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Gr, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?
Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA.
The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!
Lys. More than to us

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
me not, what; for, if I tell you, I am no true Athenian.
I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out.
Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom !

Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed!
The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we
have,

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,
Between our after-supper, and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate!

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. Say,what abridgment have you for this evening?
What mask? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief how many sports are ripe;
Make choice of which your highness will see first!
[Gives a paper.

The. [reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be
sung

By an Athenian eunuch, 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 Bachanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary,
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth.
Merry and Tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words
long;

Which is as brief, as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long;
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,

Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

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,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,

Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you service.

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!
[Exit Philostrate.
Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd,
And duty in his service perishing.
The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind.
The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake :
And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.

Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,
In least, speak most, to my capacity.

Enter PHILOSTRATE.

Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.
The. Let him approach! [Flourish of trumpets.
Enter Prologue.

Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despite.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,

We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know.
The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt; he
knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: It is not
enough to speak, but to speak true.

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!
Enter PYRAMUS.

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

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]

This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill."
Pyr. "Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."
Pyr. "O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall. “
This. "Ikiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all."

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.
Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
The. True; and a goose for his discretion.
Dem. Not so, my lord: for his valour cannot carry
his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

"But stay;-O spite!
"But mark;-poor knight,
"What dreadful dole is here!
"Eyes, do you see?
"How can it be?

"O dainty duck! O dear!

แ "Thy mantle good,

(6 What, stain'd with blood? "Approach, ye furies fell!

"O fates! come, come;
Cut thread and thrum;
"Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!"

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;
"Ithank thee, moon, for shining now so bright:
"For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams
"I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.

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.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

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.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd

The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed!
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,

In nightly revels, and new jollity.

SCENE II.

Enter PUCK.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolick; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom, before,

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,
Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these vision did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend!
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:

Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all!

Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shallrestore amends.

[Exit.

« Previous Continue »

Books