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 no thing.

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
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,

What mask? what music? How shall
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are
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.
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
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.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.3
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical! Tedious and brief!
That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

Philost. 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 saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

The. What are they that do play it ?
Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens

here,4

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.

1 Steevens thought, that by abridgment was meant a dramatic performance which crowds the events of years into a few hours. Surely the context seems to require a different explanation; an abridgment appears to mean some pastime to shorten the tedious evening. 2 Short account.

3 This may be an allusion to Spenser's poem: "The Tears of the Muses on the Neglect and Contempt of Learning; first printed in 1591.

4 It is thought that Shakspeare alludes here to certain good hearted men of Coventry, who petitioned that they mought renew their old storial shew' before the Queen at Kenilworth: where the poet himself may have been present, as he was then twelve years old.

5 i. e. unexercised, unpractised.

in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tonguc-tied simplicity,
In least speak most, to my capacity.
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 shew 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 this prologue like a child on a recorder; 10 a sound, but not in govern

7 The sense of this

to

be: "What

"I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright. "For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams, "I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.

"But stay; - spite!
"But mark; -Poor knight,
"What dreadful dole is here!

"Eyes do you see?
"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;2
"Cut thread and thrum;

"Quail, crush, conclude, and quell !"4 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 ?

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.

This. "Asleep, my love?

"What, dead, my dove?

"O Pyramus, arise,

"Speak, speak. Quite dumb?

"Dead, dead? A tomb

"Must cover thy sweet eyes.

"These lily brows,

"This cherry nose,

8

"These yellow cowslip cheeks,

"Are gone, are gone: "Lovers, make moan! "His eyes were green as leeks. "O sisters three, "Come, come, to me,

"With hands as pale as milk;

"Lay them in gore,
"Since you have shore

"With shears his thread of silk.

"Tongue, not a word :-
"Come, trusty sword;

"Come, blade, my breast imbrue:

"And farewell, friends ;"Thus Thisby ends: "Adieu, adieu, adieu."

[Dies.

The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too.

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 Burgomask 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 with 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. I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd The heavy gait1 of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity

In nightly revels, and new jollity.

[Ezeunt.

SCENE II. Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone.11 Now the wasted brands do glow, 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:
And we fairies, that do run,
By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:

mock, to tear in pieces, as a cat tears a mouse.

2 Dr. Farmer thought this was written in ridicule of a passage in Damon and Pythias, by Richard Edwards,

1582:

which is a distinction he is here striving to deserve, though with little success; as in support of his preten sions he never rises higher than a pun, and frequently sinks as low as a quibble.

7 The old copies read means, which had anciently the same signification as moans. Theobald made the alteration.

8 The old copies read lips instead of brows. The alteration was made for the sake of the rhyme by Theo

bald.

9 A rustic dance framed in imitation of the people of Bergamasco (a province in the state of Venice,) whe and dialect than any other people of Italy. The lingua are ridiculed as being more clownish in their manners rustica of the buffoons, in the old Italian comedies, is an imitation of their jargon.

I am sent, with broom, before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.1

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train.

Obe. Through this house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire:

Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;

And this ditty after me,

Sing and dance it trippingly.

Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote:

To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

SONG AND DANCE.

Obe. Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue, there create,
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be:
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as aro
Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.-
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gate;
And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace with sweet peace:

E'er shall it in safety rest,

And the owner of it blest.

1 Cleanliness is always necessary to invite the residence or favour of the Fairies.

2 Milton perhaps had this picture in his thoughts: 'And glowing embers through the room Teach night to counterfeit a gloom."

3 This ceremony was in old times used at all marriazes. Mr. Douce has given the formula from the Manual for the use of Salisbury. We may observe on this strange ceremony, that the purity of modern times not in need of these holy aspersions to lull the senses and dissipate the illusions of the devil. The

stands

Trip away;
Make no stay;

Meet me all by break of day.

Puck. If we shadows have offended,

[Exeunt OFERON, TITANIA, and Train.

Think but this (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear,
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck,"
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long :
Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

[Exit.

WILD and fantastical as this play is, all the parts in their various modes are well written, and give the kind of pleasure which the author designed. Fairies in his time were much in fashion; common tradition had made them familiar, and Spenser's poem had made them great.

JOHNSON.

JOHNSON'S concluding observations on this play are not conceived with his usual judgment. There is no analogy or resemblance between the Fairies of Spenser and those of Shakspeare. The Fairies of Spenser, as appears from his description of them in the second book of the Faerie Queene, canto x. were a race of mortals created by Prometheus, of the human size, shape, and affections, and subject to death. But those of Shakspeare, and of common tradition, as Johnson calls them, were a diminutive race of sportful beings, totally different from those of Spenser. M. MASON. endowed with iminortality and supernatural powers,

married couple would no doubt rejoice when the benediction was ended,

4 Portentous.

5 Way, course.

in Chaucer's Millere's Tale, vol. i. p. 105, 1. 22. Whit6 The same superstitious kind of benediction occurs tingham's Edit.

7 i. e. if we have better fortune than we have deserved. 8 i. e. hisses.

9 Clap your hands, give us your applause.

* Schlegel.

Nathaniel the curate, and Holofernes, that prince of peThe grotesque characters, Don Adrian de Armado, dants, with the humours of Costard the clown, are well contrasted with the sprightly wit of the principal characters in the play. It has been observed that 'Biron and Rosaline suffer much in comparison with Benedick and Beatrice, and it must be confessed that there is some justice in the observation. Yet Biron, 'that merry mad-cap Lord, is not overrated in Rosaline's admirable character of him

"A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse."

Shakspeare has only shown the inexhaustible powers of his mind in improving on the admirable originals of his own creation in a more mature age.

Malone placed the composition of this play first in 1591, afterwards in 1594. Dr. Drake thinks we may safely assign it to the earlier period. The first edition was printed in 1598.