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I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
[Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train. Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
vision. I have had a dream, to say what dream it was: -- Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was
there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, But man is but a patched and methought I had. 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 Bottem'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 IL-Athens. A Room in Quince's House. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?
Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.
Flu. If he come not then, the play is marred ; It goes not forward, doth it?
Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, "it he.
Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens.
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 of nought.
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.
Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! 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 garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and Í do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go, away.
SCENE I.. -The same.
An Apartment in the
Palace of Theseus.
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE,
Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their ragedien That is an old device, and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
The. More strange than true. I never may be- Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Such tricks hath strong imagination;
Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and
The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and
Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love,
More than to us
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens
Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
No, my noble lord,
The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such
Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind.
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake:
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
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 should here repent you, 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 this 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;
"But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. "This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
"This beauteous lady Thisby is, certáin. "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 lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, "Presenteth moon-shine: for, if you will know, "By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn "To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. "This grisly beast, which by name lion hight, "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 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, moon-shine, 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 Thisby, "Did whisper often very secretly.
"This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth
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.' The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!
"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, "Shew 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 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 you :- - Yonder she comes. 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; "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." 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."
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."
Wall." Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; "And, being done, thus wall away doth go."
[Exeunt Wall, PYRAMUS and THISBE. 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 ever 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, moon and a lion
"When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. "Then know, that I, one Snug, the joiner, am "A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: "For if I should as lion come in strife "Into this place, 'twere pity on my life."
The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
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
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 lantern doth the horned moon present;
"Myself the man i'th'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 dlse 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.
"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 deflour'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;
"Now am I fled;
"Tongue, lose thy light! "Moon, take thy flight! "Now die, die, die, die, die." Dies. Erit Moonshine. 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 star-light. comes; and her passion ends the play.
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.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet. This. "Asleep, my love?
"What, dead, my dove?
"O Pyramus, arise,
"Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
"Must cover thy sweet eyes.
"Lay them in gore,
The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead.
Dem. Ay, and wall took.
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 play'd 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 Bergomask : let your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide :
By the triple Hecat's team,
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train.
Obe. Through this house give glimmering light,
Hop as light as bird from brier;
SONG, AND DANCE.
Obe. Now, until the break of day,
So shall all the couples three
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall upon their children be.
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace
And the owner of it blest.
Make no stay:
Meet me all by break of day.
[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train.
Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,