asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, dream,—past the wit of man to say, what dream it was: Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. More, than cool reason ever comprehends. Methought I was—t -there is no man can tell what. Me- The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, thought I was, and methought I had,—but man is but a Are of imagination all compact: patched fool, if he will offer to say, what methought I One sees more devils, than vast hell can hold; had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of mau That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, hath not seen: man's hand is not able to taste, his Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of Doth glauce from heaven to earth, from earth to this dream it shall be called Bottom's Dream, be- heaven; cause 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. Aroom 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. Flute. 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 Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice. Flute. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of nought. Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? Quin. Bottom!-0 most courageous day! O most happy hour! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, And, as imagination bodies forth Lys. More than to us Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed! To wear away this long age of three hours, Philost. Here, might Theseus. The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? [Gives a paper. The. [reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be By an Athenian eunuch, to the harp. Which is as brief, as I have known a play; Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The. What are they that do play it? Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, 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, Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain, The. I will hear that play: Go, bring them in ;-and take your places, ladies! Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Enter PHILOSTRATE. Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. We are not here. That you should here repent you, 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, 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. 1 "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 show "That I am that same wall; the truth is so : 66 Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! "Onight, which ever art, when day is not! O night, Onight, 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. 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. "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. 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, 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 "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'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 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. 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! "But stay;-0 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 cheer. Out, sword, and wound "The pap of Pyramus: "Ay, that left pap, "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. "Now am I fled; "My soul is in the sky: "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. 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 Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.-- "This cherry nose, The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Aye, 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 & 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. The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed! In nightly revels, and new jollity. SCENE II. Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, That the graves, all gaping wide, By the triple Hecat's team, To sweep the dust behind the door. [Exeunt. 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; Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote: SONG, AND DANCE. Obe. Now, until the break of day, And the blots of nature's hand Shall upon their children be.- Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace with sweet peace: Make no stay; Meet me all by break of day! [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, So, good night unto you all! Give me your hands, if we be friends, [Exit. A C T I. COSTARD, a clown. MOTH, page to Armado. of ROSALINE, } ladies attending on the princess. JAQUENETTA, a country wench. Officers and others, attendants on the King and Princess. SCENE,-Navarre. SCENE I.—Navarre. Apark, with a palace in it. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring time, The endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour, which shall bait his scythe's keen edge, Therefore, brave conquerors! -for so you are, Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names; Biron. I can but say the protestation over. King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. only swore, to study with your grace, King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know. Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense? King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. Biron. Why,all delights are vain; but that most vain, To seek the light of truth; while truth the while That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are abreeding. Dum. How follows that? |