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SCENE I.

ACT V.

THE PALAC E.

Enter Thefeus, Hippolita, Egeus, and his Lords.

"T'

HIPPOLIT A.

IS strange, my Thefeus, that these lovers fpeak of

The. More ftrange than true. I never may believe Thefe antique fables, nor thefe fairy toys; Lovers, and madmen, have fuch feething brains, Such fhaping fantafies, that apprehend More than cool reafon ever comprehends. The lunatick, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact:

One fees more devils than vaft hell can hold; That is the madman: The lover, all as frantick,' Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;

And, as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to fhapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.

Such tricks hath ftrong imagination,

That, if he would but apprehend fome joy,
It comprehends fome bringer of that joy;

4 Thefe beautiful lines are in all the old editions thrown out of They are very well reftored by the later editors.

metre.

JOHNSON.

5 That is the madman: the lover, all as frantick.] Such is the reading of all the old copies; inftead of which, the modern edi tors have given us,

"The madman: while the lover all as frantick."

Or,

Or, in the night, imagining fome fear,
How easy is a bush fuppos'd a bear?

Hip. But all the ftory of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd fo together,
More witneffeth that fancy's images,

And grows to fomething of great conftancy; s
But, howsoever, ftrange, and admirable.

Enter Lyfander, 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,

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

we have,

To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after-fupper, and bed-time?
Where is our ufual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To eafe the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philoftrate. "

Enter Philoftrate.

Philoft. Here, mighty Thefeus."

7

The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?

5 Conftancy.] Confiftency; ftability; certainty. JOHNSON. Call Philoftrate.] In the folio, 1623, it is, Call Egeus, and all the fpeeches afterwards spoken by Philoftrate, are there given to that character. But the modern editions, from the quarto 1600, have rightly given them to Philoftrate, who appears in the first fcene as mafter of the revels to Thefeus, and is there fent out on a fimilar kind of errand. STEEVENS.

1 Say what abridgment, &c.] By abridgment our author means dramatick performance, which crowds the events of years into as many hours. So in Hamlet, act ii. fc. 7. he calls the players abridgments, abftras, and brief chronicles of the time. STEEVENS.

What'

What mask? what mufick? How fhall we beguile The lazy time, if not with fome delight?

Philoft. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your highness will fee first. [Giving a paper.

The. reads. '] The battle of the Centaurs, to be fung by an Athenian cunuch to the harp.

We'll none of that. That I have told my love,
In glory of my kinfman Hercules.

The Rot of the tipfy Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian finger in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd,
When I from Thebes came laft a conqueror,
1 The thrice three Mufes mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
That is fome fatire, keen and critical;
Not forting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief fcene of young Pyramus,
And bis love Thisby; very tragical mirth.

2

* One of the quartos has ripe, the other old editions, rife. JOHNSON.

The. reads.] This is printed as Mr. Theobald gave it from both the old quartos. In the firft folio, and all the following editions, Lyfander reads the catalogue, and Thefeus makes the remarks. JOHNSON.

The thrice three Mufes mourning for the death
Of learning, &c.]

I do not know whether it has been before observed, that Shakefpeare here, perhaps, alluded to Spenfer's poem, entitled The Tears of the Mufes, on the neglect and contempt of learning. This piece first appeared in quarto, with others 1591. The oldeft edition of this play now known is dated 1600. If Spenfer's poem be here intended, may we not prefume that there is fome earlier edition of this? But however, if the allufion be allowed, at least it feems to bring the play below 1591. WARTON.

2

-keen and critical.] Critical here means criticizing, cenJuring. So in Othello:

O, I am nothing if not critical.

STEEVENS.

Merry

Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wonderous ftrange fnow.
How fhall we find the concord of this difcord?
Philoft. 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 faw rehears'd, I must confefs,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The paffion of loud laughter never shed.
The. What are they, that do play it?

Philoft. 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 fame play against your nuptial.

The. And we will hear it.

Philoft. No, my noble lord,

It is not for you. I have heard it over,

3 Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, AND wondrous ftrange SNOW.]

The nonsense of the last line should be corrected thus,
That is, bot ice, a wondrous ftrange SHOW.

Mr. Upton reads, not improbably,

WARBURTON.

JOHNSON.

And wondrous ftrange black snow. Dr. Warburton reads, a wondrous ftrange fhow. Sir T. H. wondrous fcorching now. Mr. Pope omits the line entirely. I think the paffage needs no alteration, on account of the verfification; for wonderous is as often ufed as three, as it is as two fyllables. The meaning of the line is- "That is, bot ice and "fnow of as ftrange a quality." STEEVENS.

unbreath'd memories.] That is, unexercised, unpractifed memories. STEEVENS.

And

And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find fport in their intents, 4
Extremely ftretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you fervice.

The. I will hear that play:

For never any thing can be amifs,
When fimpleness and duty tender it.

Go, bring them in, and take your places, ladies.

[Exit Phil. Hip. I love not to fee wretchednefs o'ercharg'd, And duty in his fervice perishing.

The. Why, gentle fweet, you shall fee no fuch thing.

Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poor duty cannot do, 5

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 feen them fhiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,

4 Unless you can find Sport in their intents.] Thus all the copies. But as I know not what it is to firetch and con an intent, I suspec a line to be loft. JOHNSON.

Our Sport fhall be, &c.] Voltaire fays fomething like this of Louis XIV. who took a pleasure in feeing his courtiers in confufion when they spoke to him. STEEVENS.

5 And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble refpect takes it in might, not merit.]

The fenfe of this paffage, as it now ftands, if it has any fenfe, is this: What the inability of duty cannot perform, regardful generefity receives as an act of ability, though not of merit. The contrary is rather true: What dutifulness tries to perform without ability, regard ful generofity receives as having the merit, though not the power, of complete performance.

We should therefore read,

And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes not in might, but merit.

JOHNSON.

And,

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