be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp."We'll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. [Reads.] "The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' That is an old device; and it was play'd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.[Reads.] "The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary."- [Reads.] "A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, [long, Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words 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 saw rehears'd, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed. [here, The. What are they that do play it? Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens Which never labour'd in their minds till now; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it. Philost. No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, To do you service. The. I will hear that play; For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in:-and take your places, ladies. [Exit PHILOSTrate. Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing. The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. Make periods in the midst of sentences, I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Enter PHILOSTRATE. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest. The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter 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 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 govern ment. 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, 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 content To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. 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 Prol. THISBE, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord: Wall. "In this same interlude it doth befall, This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show better? Dem. It is the wittiest partition 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! 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 Thou wall, O wall, O sweet, and lovely wall, [mine; Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for But what see I? No Thisby do I see. [this! O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! "Deceiv Pyr. No, in truth, Sir, he should not. ing me," 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. 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 moon 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 No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity of my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. [I saw. 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 This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my change! 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 And, like Limander, am I trusty still." [grace; 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 discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go." [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 ever I heard. I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright; But stay,-O spite!— How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood? Approach, ye furies fell! O fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!" Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: The pap of Pyramus,- Where heart doth hop: Thus die I, thus, thus, thus! Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light! [cheer. [Dies. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. 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 The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:- [Exit Moonshine. SCENE II. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, [Exeunt. And the wolf behowls the moon; Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, By the triple Hecate's team, Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train. Hop as light as bird from brier; Sing, and dance it trippingly. MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song and dance. Obe. Now, until the break of day, And the blots of nature's hand Shall upon their children be. And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace: Ever shall in safety rest, And the owner of it blest. Meet me all by break of day. [ACT V. [Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. [Exit. SHYLOCK, a Jew. TUBAL, a Jew, his friend. LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, servant to SHYLOCK, afterwards to BASSANIO. Old Gовво, Father to LAUNCELOT. LEONARDO, Servant to BASSANIO. BALTHAZAR, STEPHANO, Servants to PORTIA. PORTIA, a rich Heiress. NERISSA, her Waiting-maid. JESSICA, daughter to SHYLOCK Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, SCENE,-Partly at VENICE, and partly at BELMONT, the seat of Portia, on the Continent. ACT I. SCENE I.-VENICE. A Street. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; That court'sy to them, do them reverence, Solan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth, Salar. And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well: If worthier friends had not prevented me. Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SOLANIO. |