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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.

Titu. 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 those 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.

once,

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; 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,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding it 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
Thung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian
bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like
[bells,
Each under each. A cry more tunable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge, when you hear.-But, soft; what
nymphs are these?

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; [asleep:
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.—

Forepart.
The Blews are the large chaps of a hound.
+ Sound.

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

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with
their horns.

Horns, and shout within. DEMETRIUS, LYSAN DER, HERMIA, and HELENA, wake and star up.

The. Good-morrow friends. Saint Valentine
is past;

Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys., Pardon, my lord.

[He and the rest kneel to THESeus.
The. I pray you all, stand up.
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
I know, you are two rival enemies;
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
That hatred is so far from jealousy,

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
Without the peril of the Athenian law.

[be

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
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
stealth,
Fair Helena in fancy following mc.
And I in fury hither follow'd them;
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,
(But by some power it is,) my love to Hermia
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,t
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
Which in my childhood I did dote upon :
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
But, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
And will for evermore be true to it.
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately me :
Of this discourse we more will hear anon.-
For in the temple, by and by with us,
Efeus, I will overbear your will;
And, for the morning now is something worn,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
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.

[Exeunt THE. HIP. EGE. and train.
Dem. These things seem small, and undis-
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
tinguishable,
Her. Methinks, I see these things with part-
ed eye,

When every thing seems double.

Hel. So methinks:

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

Dem. It seems to me,

[think, That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you + Try.

* Love.

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. [Exeunt.

As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer:-my text is, Most fair Pyramus. Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! Flute, the bellowsmender! 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 about to expound this dream. Methought I was-there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had,-But man is but a patched 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 Bottom'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 II-Athens.-A Room in QUINCE'S

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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 ia all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but 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.

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.

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.

Enter BOTTOM.

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 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.-The sume.-An Apartment in the Palace of THESEUS.

Enter

THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE,
Lords, and Attendants.

Hip. Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

The. More strange than true. I never may believe

These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 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;
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth
to heaven;

And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy no-
A local habitation, and a name. [thing
Such tricks hath strong imagination;
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or, in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?

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 Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love mirth.Accompany your hearts!

Lys. More than to us [bed! Wait on your royal walks, your board, your 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.
The. Say, what abridgment; have you fo
this evening?
Igule.
What mask? what music? How shall we be
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief, how many sports
are ripe;

* Are made of mere imagination.

tl'astime.

+ Stability Short accovet

Make choice of which your highness will see [Giving a paper.

first.

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.
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,

Which never laboured 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
To do you service.

[pain,

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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 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?

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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:

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'erAnd duty in his service perishing. [charg'd," 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:
And what poor duty cannot do,

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,
[breast;

"He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody
"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 re-
main."

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,
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.

[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 cranny'd hole, or chink, "Through which the lovers, Pyramus and "Did whisper often very secretly. [Thieby,

Philost. So please your grace the prologue is" This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone

addrest.t

• Unexercised.

doth show,

sical instrument.

"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.

men. Here come two noble beasts in, a moo and a lion.

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, Ó 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!

"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 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.

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ed 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 sest 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

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 trem ble here,

"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 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 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 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.*

Hip. I am weary 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.

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.

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For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,

"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;*

62 Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!t" The. This passion, and the death of a dear fiend, 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; "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:

66

Tongue, lose thy light! "Moon, take thy flight! "Now die, die, die, die, die.

[Dies.-Exit 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.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

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.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.

This." Asleep, my love?

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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, "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,

Coarse yarn. + Destroy.

"Since you have shore "With shears his thread of silk. 6. 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 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.

I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait* of night.-Sweet friends, to
bed.-

A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.

SCENE II.-Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,

[Exeunt.

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.t
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:
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train.
Obe. Through this house give glimmering
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.

[light

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;

*Countenance.

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