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. Fla. 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? More witnesseth than fancy's images Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and 30 Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love To wear away this long age of three hours Quin, Bottom! O most courageous day! Where is our usual manager of mirth? 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. 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 garlic, 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. ACT V. SCENE I. Athens. The palace of THESEUS. Hip. Tis strange, my Theseus, that these The More strange than true: I never may These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 20 Hip. But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, What revels are in hand? Is there no play. Phil. Here, mighty Theseus. The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? What masque? what music? How shall we beguile 40 The lazy time, if not with some delight? 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.' 50 Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.' That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. Which is as brief as I have known a play; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. 70 Which never labor'd in their minds till now, 81 And it is nothing, nothing in the world; And duty in his service perishing. Ilip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. 89 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 I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity Re-enter PHILOSTRATE. 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 scom To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 141 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, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. [Exeunt Prologue, 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 crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. 161 Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth address'd. III Enter QUINCE for the Prologue. Pro. 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 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 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, Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show. [plain. But wonder on, till truth make all things show That I am the same wall; the truth is so: Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Enter PYRAMUS. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! 171 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! 180 But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Cursed 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 H⭑ shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. Enter THISbe. This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, 190 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. 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, This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? This. "Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part dis charged so: And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [Exit. The. Now is the mutral down between the two neighbors. 209 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. 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 May now perchance both quake and tremble The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. 231 Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valor. The True: and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valor cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor: for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. This lanthorn 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 lanthorn doth the horned 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 lanthorn. 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. 260 Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn 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 lanthorn; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. 280 But stay, O spite! But mark, poor knight! O dainty duck! O dear! 290 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 lived. that loved, that liked, that look'd with cheer. Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, 300 Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But, come, your BergoA dance. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed: 'tis almost fairy time. Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself mask: let your epilogue alone. Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine. [Dies. 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 starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. 321 Re-enter THIsbe. Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she means, videlicet:- 330 This. Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, 371 I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn Enter PUCK. 380 Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, In remembrance of a shroud. That the graves all gaping wide, By the triple Hecate's team, To sweep the dust behind the door. 390 Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train. Obe. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; Sing, and dance it trippingly. 400 Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote, Obe. Now, until the break of day, Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three 410 420 |