« PreviousContinue »
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
Hel. None, but your beauty-'would that fault were mine!
Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face;
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
[Exit Hermia, R Lys. I will, my Hermia. Helena, adieu : As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
[Exit Lysander, L.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
SCENE II-A Room in Quince's Cottage.
Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING, L.
Qui. (o.) Is all our company here?
Bot. (L.C.) You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
Qui. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night.
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
Qui. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable, comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll :-Masters, spread yourselves.
Qui. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the
Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and proceed. Qui. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
Qui. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love, Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. the rest yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.
The raging rocks,
Shall shine from far,
And make and mar
The foolish fates.
This was lofty !-Now name the rest of the players.-This is Ercles' vein: a tyrant's vein, a lover is more condoling.
Qui. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
Qui. You must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
Qui. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.
Qui. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too : I'll speak in a monstrous little voice ;-" Thisne, Thisne. Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear!"
Qui. No, no; you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
Bot. Well, proceed.
Qui. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Sta. Here, Peter Quince,
Qui. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout, the tinker.
Sno. Here, Peter Quince.
Qui. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father; -Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part :-and, I hope, here is a play fitted.
Snug. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
Qui. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, "Let him roar again, Let him roar again."
Qui. An' you should do it too terribly, you would
fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek: and that were enough to hang us all.
All. That would hang us every mother's son.
Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an' 'twere any nightingale.
Qui. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in B a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in ?
Qui. Why, what you will.
Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.
Qui. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced.-But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the meantime, I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
Qui. At the duke's oak me meet.
Bot. Enough; hold, or cut bowstrings. [Exeunt, L:
END OF ACT 1.
SCENE I.-A Wood near Athens.-Moonlight.
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,
I do wander every where,
In those freckles live their savours:
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.
Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night; Take heed, the queen come not within his sight. For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling: And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild : But she, perforce, withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy, And now they never meet in grove, or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, But they do square; that all their elves, for fear, Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.
Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Call'd Robin Goodfellow are you not he,
That fright the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern,
Puck. Thou speak'st arigh
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,