Imatges de pàgina
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to my queen, queen, and beg And then I

her Indian boy;

will her charmed eye release

[there,

From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste;
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and
Troop home to church-yards: damned spirits all,
That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They wilfully themselves exile from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
Obe. But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the morning's love have oft made sport;
And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste ng, haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day. [Ex. Obe.
Puck. Up and down, up and down;

I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field and town;
Goblin, lead them up and down;

Here comes one.

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Puck.

Come hither; I am here. Dem. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt

buy this dear,

If ever I thy face by daylight see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth ine
To measure out my length on this cold bed.

By day's approach look to be visited.

[Lies down and sleeps.

Enter Helena,

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hours: shine, comforts, from the east, That I may back to Athens, by daylight,

From these that my poor company detest:And, sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Sleeps. Puck. Yet but three? Come one more;

Two of both kinds makes up four.

Here she comes, curst and sad: Cupid is a knavish lad,

Thus to make poor females mad.

Enter Hermia.

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The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be

well.

[Exit Puck.-Dem. Hel. &c. sleep.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Wood.

Enter Titania and Bottom, Fairies attending; Oberon behind unseen.

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,

And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
Bot. Where's Peas-blossom? Peas. Ready.
Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.-Where 's
monsieur Cobweb?

Cob. Ready.

Bot. Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped

humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good monself too much in the action, monsieur; and, good sieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourmonsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey

bag, signior. Where's monsieur Mustard-seed? Must. Ready.

Bot. Give me your neif, monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. Must. What's your will?

Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me I must scratch. [love? Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones.

[eat. Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath

no fellow.

Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's-hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two, of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. So doth the windbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how how I love the thee! how I dote on thee!

[They sleep.

Oberon advances. Enter Puck. Obe. Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet Her dotage now I do begin to pity. [sight? For meeting her of late, behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,

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did upbraid her and fall out with her: For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which some time on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her, And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; Which straight she gave me, and her fairies sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land: And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes. And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain; That he awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair;

And think no more of this night's accidents,

But as the fierce vexation of a dream.

But first I will release the fairy queen.

Be, as thou was wont to be;

[Touching her eyes with an herb.

See, as thou was wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.

Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

Obe. There lies your love.

Tita.

How came these things to pass?

O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now!
Obe. Silence a while. Robin, take off this head.-
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.

Tita. Music, ho! music; such as charmeth sleep.
Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own

fool's eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, music. [Still music.] Come, my queen,

take hands with me,

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals on the ground.

[Exeunt. [Horns sound within.

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train.
The. Go one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:
Despatch, I say, and find the forester.
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion

Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Fach under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
[these?
Judge, when you hear. But, soft; what nymphs are

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;

And this Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:

I wonder of their being here together.

The. No doubt they rose up early, to observe

The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.

But, speak, Egeus: Is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege. It is, my lord.

[horns.
The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their
Horns, and shout within. Demetrius, Lysander,
Hermia, and Helena wake, and start up.
The. Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? [past;
Lys. Pardon, my lord.

The.

[He and the rest kneel to Theseus.
I pray you all, stand up.

I know you two are rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly.
Half 'sleep, half waking: But as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here:
But, as I think, (for truly would I speak, -
And now I do bethink me, so it is ;)

I came with Hermia hither our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
Without the peril of the Athenian law.

Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.

They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me:
You of your wife, and me of my consent, -
Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them;
Fair Helena in fancy following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But, by some power it is,) my love to Hermia,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud,
Which in my childhood I did dote upon:
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:

But, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we will hear more anon.
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away, with us, to Athens: Three and three,
We 'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta. [Ex. The. Hip. Ege. and train.
Dem. These things seem small and undistinguish-
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.
Hel.

Table,

So, methinks:

And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.
Dem.

It seems to me,
Do not you think,

That yet we sleep, we dream.
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her. Yea, and my father. Hel. And Hippolyta.
Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow him;
And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. [Ex.

As they go out, Bottom awakes.

Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer:-my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Hey, ho! -Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence. and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision, I have had a dream,-past the wit of man to say

what dream it was:-Man is but an ass if he go Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing about to expound this dream. Methought I was- A local habitation and a name.

there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, Such tricks hath strong imagination;
and methought I had. But man is but a patched That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear!

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 Bottom's Dream, be-
cause it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of our play, before the duke: Peradven-
cure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at
her death.

Exit.

SCENE II.-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?
[transported.
Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is
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, but he.

Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handi. craft 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 naught.

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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 menot 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 toge ther; 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.

ACT V.

of Theseus.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Athens. An Apartment in the Palace
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords and
Attendants.

Hip. "'T is strange, my Theseus, that these lovers
speak of.

The. More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange, and admirable.

Enter Lysander, 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
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall
we have,

To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.
Philost.

Here, mighty Theseus.

to us

[ing? The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evenWhat mask, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are rife;
Make choice of which your highness will see first.
[Giving a paper.

Lys. [reads.] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
[sung,
The. We'll none of that: that have I told my love,

In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
Lys. The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
The. That is an old device, and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
Lys. 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.'

[death

The. That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
Lys. A tedious brief scene of young Pyrainus,
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'

The. Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
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 ford, it is;

[long;

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?
[here,
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.
[Exeunt Philostrate.

Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,

Are of imagination all compact:

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold

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The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind.
The kinder we, to give them thanks for
thing.

The.

no

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,
And, 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 tongue-tied simplicity,
In least speak most, to my capacity.

Enter Philostrate. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is The. Let him approach. [addrest. [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, [you, 'We are not here. That you should here repent '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

Det. 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 O night, which everart when day is not! [black! 'O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, 'I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! 'And thou, O wall, thou sweet and lovely wall,

eyne.

That stands 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 [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for 'But what see 1? No Thisby do I see. [this! 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.

Bot. 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 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;

child on a recorder; a sound, but not in govern-And like Limander am I trusty still.'

ment.

The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing Impair'd, 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 [content

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 moonshine for, if you will know, 'By moonshine 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, she fled, her mantle she did fall;

as

Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain: Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby's inantle 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.'

[show

The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

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 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 straight-
way?'

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.

neighbours.

The. Now is the mural down between the two Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. Hip. This is the silliest stuff that e'er 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 nó 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

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
A lion's fell, nor else no lion's dam:
For if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 't were 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 hearken to the moon.

Moon. 'This lantern 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 lantern doth the horned moon pre'Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.' [sent; The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: 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. [change, Hip. I am weary of this moon: Would he would 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.

Moon. All that I have to say is, to tell you, that the lantern 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 lantern; for they are in the moon. But, silence: here comes Thisbe.

Enter Thisbe.

This, 'This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my love?
Lion. 'Oh-.'
[The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off.
Dem. Well roared, lion.
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, moon. Truly, the moon shines
with a good grace.
The. Well noused, lion.
The Lion Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit.

Dem. And then came Pyramus.
Lys. And so the lion vanished.

beams;

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. 'Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny
'I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;
'For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
'I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.

'But stay;-O 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; '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 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

one.

'Come, tears, confound; 'Out, sword, and wound

The pap of Pyramus: 'Ay, that left pap 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! 'Moon, take thy fight! 'Now die, die, die, die, die.'

[cheer.

[Dies. Exit Moonshine.

Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but [nothing. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is 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. comes; and her passion ends the play.

Enter Thisbe.

Here she

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 Pyra

mus, which Thisbe, is the better.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet. feyes.

This. Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?

'O Pyramus, arise,
'Speak, speak. Quite duinb?
'Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,

These yellow cowslip cheeks,
'Are gone, are gone:
'Lovers, make mona!

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 Thisbe 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 Bergomask dance, between two of our company?

are

The. No epilogue. I pray you for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players all dead, there need none to be blained. 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 Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. Here a dance of Clowns The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve :-Lovers to bed; 't is almost fairy time.

I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have over-watch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait
night. Sweet friends, to
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.

of

SCENE II.

Enter Puck.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,

bed.

[Exeunt,

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
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 Hecate'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:
I am sent, with broom, before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter Oberon and Titania, with their trains:, Obe. Though the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire:

Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from

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.

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