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Enter QUINCE for the 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 desight,
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.


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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;


Dem. It is the wittiest parition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.


The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! 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!

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


To whisper, at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, 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,
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 Puramus, 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, 150
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large discourse, while here they do remain.

Exeunt Prologue, THISBE, Lion, and

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 crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, 160
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.

This. My love thou art my love, I think.
Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
140 And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. 200
Pyr. Not Shajalus 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. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straight-

The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

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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,


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. Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBE. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth yo. 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.

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that e'er 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 man 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

Approach, ye Furies fell ! A lion fel, nor else no lion's dam :

O Fates, come, come ; Por, if I should as lion come in strife

Cut thread and thrum ; Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.

Quail, crush, conclule, and quell ! The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con- The. This passion, and the death of a dear science.

231 friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.

Pyr. 0 ! wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame, The. True ; and a goose for his discretion.

Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear? Dem. Not so, my lord ; for his valour cannot

Which is--no, no-which was the fairest dame carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose.

That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with

cheer. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour, for the goose carries not the fox. It

Come, tears, con found; is well : leave it to his discretion, and let us

Out, sword, and wound

The listen to the moon.

pap of Pyramus : Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon

Ay, that left pap;

Where heart doth hop: present ;

Stabs himself. Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.

Thus die 1, this, thus, thus.

Now am I dead, The. He is no crescent, and his horns are in

Now am I fled; visible within the circumference. Moon. Thislanthorn doth the horned moon present ;

My soul is in the sky : Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.

Tongue, lose thy light !

Moon, take thy fight! The. This is the greatest error of all the rest.

Erit Moonshine. The man should be put into the lanteru : how is it else the man i' the moon?

Now die, die, die, die, die. Dies. Dem. He dares not come there for the candle ; Dem. No die, but an ace, for him ; for he is for, you see, it is already in snuff.

but one. Hip. I am aweary of this moon : would he Lys. Less than an ace, man, for he is dead ; would change!

he is nothing The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet that he is in the wane ; but yet, in courtesy, in recover, and yet prove an ass. all reason, we must stay the time.

Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone before Lys. Proceed, Moon.

Thisbe comes back and finds her lorer ! Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you The. She will find him by starlight. Here that the lanthorn is the moon ; I, the man in the she comes ; and her passion ends the play. moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Re-enter THISBE. Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here

Ilip. Methinks she should not use a long one comes Thisbe.

for such a Pyramus : I hope she will be brief.

Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Enter THISBE.

Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better : he for a This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God

bless us.
Lion. Oh
The lion roars.
TYISBE runs off.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those

sweet eyes. Dem. Well roared, Lion.

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet :-
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon

This. shines with a good grace.

Asleep, my love ?

Ilhat, dead, my dore?
The Lion tears THISBE's mantle, and exit.

0 Pyramus, arise ! The. Well moused, Lion.

Speak, speak! Quile dumb ? Lys. And so the lion vanished.

Dead, dead! A tomb
Dem. And then came Pyramus.

Must cover thy sweet eyes.

These lily lips,

This cherry nose, Pyr. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams ;

These yellow cowslip checks, I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright,

Are gone, are yone. Por, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,

Lovers, make moan!
I trust to taste of truest Thisby siyht.

Ilis eyes utre green as leeks.
But stay, 0 spite !

O Sisters Three,
But mark, poor knight,

Come, come to me,
What dreadful dole is here !

IT'ith hanıls as pale as milk ;
Eyes, do you see !

Lay them in gore,
How can it be?

Since you hare shore
O dainty duck!
() dear!

Il'ith shears his thread of silk.
Thy mantle good,

Tongue, not a word :
Ilhat! staind with blood !

Come, trusty sword ;



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Come, blade, my breast imbrue :

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train. Stabs herself.

Obe. Through the house give glimmering And farewell, friends ;

Thus Thisby ends :

By the dead and drowsy fire;
Adieu, adieu, adicu.


Every elf and fairy sprite The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury

Hop as light as bird from brier ;

And this ditty after me the dead.

Sing, and dance it trippingly. Dem. Ay, and Wall too.

Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote, Bot. Starting up. No, I assure you ; the wall

To each word a warbling note: is down that parted their fathers. Will it please

Hand in hand, with fairy grace, you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company ?

Will we sing, and bless this place. The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play

Song and dance.

Obe. Now, until the break of day, needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the

Through this house each fairy stray. players are all dead, there need none to be

To the best bride-bed will we, blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played

Which by us shall blessed be ; Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter,

And the issue there create it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is,

Ever shall be fortunate. truly, and very notably discharged. But come,

So shall all the couples three your Bergomask : let your epilogue alone.

Ever true and loving be ;
A dance,

And the blots of Nature's hand
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve ;

Shall not in their issue stand : Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time.

Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar, I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn

Nor mark prodigious, such as are As much as we this night have overwatch'd.

Despised in nativity, This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd

Shall upon their children be. The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to

With this field-dew consecrate, bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity,

Every fairy take his gait,

And each several chamber bless, In nightly revels, and new jollity. Exeunt.

Through this palace with sweet peace;

And the owner of it blest,
Enter PUCK.

Ever sball in safety rest.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,

Trip away ;
And the wolf behowls the moon ;

Make no stay ;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

Meet me all by break of day.
All with weary task fordone.

Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching

Think but this, and all is mended, loud,

That you have but slumber'd here
Puts the wretch that lies in woe

While these visiops did appear.
In remembrance of a shroud.

And this weak and idle theme,
Now it is the time of night

No more yielding but a dream,
That the graves, all gaping wide,

Gentles, do not reprehend:
Every one lets forth his sprite,

If you pardon, we will mend.
In the church-way paths to glide :

And, as I'm an honest Puck,
And we fairies, that do run

If we have unearned luck
By the triple Hecate's team,

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 440
From the presence of the sun,

We will make amends ere long ;
Following darkness like a dream,

Else the Puck a liar call :
Now are frolic ; not a mouse

So, good night unto you all.
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:

Give me your hands, if we be friends,
I am sent with broom before,

And Robin shall restore amends.
To sweep the dust behind the door.





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SCENE I.-Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.

Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad :
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn ;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.


Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies with portly sail. Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That court'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind, Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads; And every object that might make me fear Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants
to Portia, and other Attendants.

SCENE.-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.


Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. I should not see the sandy hour-glass run But I should think of shallows and of flats. And see my wealthy Andrew. dock'd in sand, Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs To kiss her burial. Should I go to church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, Would scatter all her spices on the stream, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,


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TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock.
OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.

Servants to Portia.

PORTIA, a rich Heiress. NERISSA, her Waiting-maid. JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

And, in a word. but even now worth this, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought

To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad!
But tell not me I know Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.


Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. Salar. Why, then you are in love.


Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,

Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are


Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headea Janus,


Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
And langh like parrots at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile.
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman.

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Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? | Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd

From such a noble rate; but my chief care You grow exceeding strange: must it be so ? Is to come fairly off from the great debts Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on Wherein my time, something too prodigal, yours.

Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO. | Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found I owe the most, in money and in love ; Antonio,

And from your love I have a warranty We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, 70 To unburden all my plots and purposes I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Bass. I will not fail you.

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; And if it stand, as you yourself still do, You have too much respect upon the world : Within the eye of honour, be assurd, They lose it that do buy it with much care : My purse, my person, my extremest means, Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Ant. I hold the world butasthe world, Gratiano; Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one A stage where every man must play a part,

shaft, And mine a sad one.

I shot his fellow of the self-same flight Gra.

Let me play the fool: The self-same way with more advised watch, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, To find the other forth, and by adventuring both, And let my liver rather heat with wine

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Because what follows is pure innocence. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?

That which I owe is lost; but if you please Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice To shoot another arrow that self way By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 150 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, As I will watch the aim, or to find both, There are a sort of men whose visages

Or bring your latter hazard back again, Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And thankfully rest debtor for the first. And do a wilful stilluess entertain,

Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion

time Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

To wind about my love with circumstance; As who should say, 'I am Sir Oracle,

And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong And, when I ope my lips let no dog bark!' In making question of my uttermost 0! my Antonio, I do know of these,

Than if you had made waste of all I have: That therefore only are reputed wise

Then do but say to me what I should do For saying nothing ; when, I am very sure, That in your knowledge may by me be done, 160 Ifthey should speak,would almost damn those ears And I am prest unto it : therefore speak. Which, hearing them, would call their brothers Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left, fools.

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, I'll tell thee more of this another time : 100 Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes But fish not, with this melancholy bait,

I did receive fair speechless messages :
For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.

Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued
Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia :
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner. For the four winds blow in from every coast time.

Renowned suitors; and her sunny locks
I must be one of these same dumb wise men, Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Which makes herseat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
Gra. Well,keep mecompany but two years more, And many Jasons come in quest of her.
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own O my Antonio ! had I but the means

To hold a rival place with one of them, Aut. Farewell: I 'll grow a talker for this year. I have a mind presages me such thrift, Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only com. That I should questionless be fortunate. mendable

Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. sea;

Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. Neither have I money, nor commodity Ant. Is that any thing now?

To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; 180 B1183. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of Try what my credit can in Venice do : nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, rea-ons are as two grains of wheat hid in two To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you Go, presently inquire, and so will I, find them, and when you have them, they are Where money is, and I no question make Lot worth the search.

To have it of my trust or for my sake. Exeunt. Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,

SCENE II.-- Belmont. A Room in PORTIA'S That you to-day promis'd to tell me of!

Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,

By something showing a more swelling port Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is
Than my faint means would grant continuance : aweary of this great world.






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