And bless it to all fair prosperity. I do hear the morning lark. [Exeunt. Horns sound within. So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, [be I beg the law, the law upon his head. Thereby to have defeated you and me. Of this their purpose hither to this wood; The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : [Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train. Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When everything seems double. 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, Egeus; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice? Ege. It is, my lord. [their horns. Hel. So methinks: The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with And I have found Demetrius, like a jewel, [Horns and shout within. Lysander, Mine own, and not mine own. Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena, Dem. wake and start up. It seems to me [past: That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you think Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is And by the way let us recount our dreams. you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your [Exeunt. apparel together, good strings to your beards, Bot. [Awaking.] When my cue comes, call new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently me, and I will answer :-my next is, "Most at the palace; every man look o'er his part; fair Pyramus."-Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! for the short and the long is, our play is preFlute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker ferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean Starveling!-God's my life! stolen hence, and linen; and let not him that plays the lion pare left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's I have had a dream,-past the wit of man to claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath ; he go about to expound this dream. Me- and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is thought I was there is no man can tell what. a sweet comedy. No more words: away! go; Methought I was, and methought I had,—but away. [Exeunt. man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write! a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords, Bottom's Dream, because 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. A Room in Quince's House. ACT V. SCENE I. Athens. An Apartment in the and Attendands. Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. [believe The. More strange than true. I never may These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is Are of imagination all compact : he come home yet? [he is transported. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,— Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Flu. If he come not, then the play is mar-Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : red 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. [handycraft man in Athens. Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice. Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us ! a thing o' naught. 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. Flu. 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. Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? [O most happy hour! Quin. Bottom!-O most courageous day! 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 everything, right as it fell out. Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Hip. But all the story of the night told over, The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and bed! Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. Philost. Here, mighty Theseus. The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? [guile What mask? what music? How shall we beThe 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. [Giving 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.[Reads.] "The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, 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. [Reads.] 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.Reads. "A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth." Which is as brief as I have known a play; The. What are they that do play it? Which never labour'd in their minds till now; The. I will hear that play; For never anything 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'erAnd duty in his service perishing. [charg'd, 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. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue 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 show 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 re pent 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 his 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; [plain. But wonder on, till truth make all things This man is Pyramus, if you would know; This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth [sunder; Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they present are content To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, 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 Did whisper often very secretly. [Thisby, This lime, 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." [speak better? The. Would you desire lime and hair to Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee." ་་ Pyr. "I see a voice: now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.— Thisby This. "My love! thou art my love, I think." Pyr. "Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; And, like Limander, am I trusty still." [kill.” This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me 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!" [at all." This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?" [out delay." This. "Tide life, 'tide death, I come with[Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go." [Exit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. [heard. Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. [not theirs. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excel men.-Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!lent Enter Pyramus. Pyr. "O 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! But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!" The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me," is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told Yonder she comes. you. Enter Thisbe. This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, Enter Lion and Moonshine. Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear [on floor, The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps 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 No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity of my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. [e'er I saw. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that 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. 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 [his head. Dem. He should have worn the horns on present; The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. Moon. "This lantern doth the hornèd moon present; Myself the man i' the 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? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff. Hip. I am aweary of this moon: would he would change! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. Lys. Proceed, moon. Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Enter Thisbe. The pap of Pyramus : Where heart doth hop:Thus die I, thus, thus, thus ! Now am I dead, [Exit Moonshine. 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. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. [dead; he is nothing. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is 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 starlight.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. Enter Thisbe. Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one This. "This is old Ninny's tomb. Where for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. is my love?" Lion. [Roaring.] "Oh-." Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for [Thisbe runs off. a man, God warrant us, she for a woman, God bless us. Dem. Well roared, lion. The. Well run, Thisbe. Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. The Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. The. Well moused, lion. Dem. And then came Pyramus. Lys. And so the lion vanished. Enter Pyramus. Pyr. "Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright; [streams, For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering But stay,-O spite !— What dreadful dole is here! Eyes, do you see? How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, 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. Pyr. "O wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflower'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. Come, tears, confound; Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet: What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Must cover thy sweet eyes. This cherry nose, Come, come to me, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word: Come, trusty sword: Come, blade, my breast imbrue : And farewell, friends: Thus Thisby ends : Adieu, adieu, adieu." [Dies. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, 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 |