The Works of Shakespeare

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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-kneed, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under cach. A cry more tuneable

Was never halloo'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 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.

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

[Horns, and shouts within. DEMETRIUS, LYSANDER,
HERMIA, and HELENA, wake and start 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.
The.
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 gawd,
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 more will hear 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.

[Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train. Dem. These things seem small, and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double. So methinks:

Hel.

That we are awake? It seems to me That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you think 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.. Bot. [Waking.] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer my next 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 patched3 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 the1 play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at Thisby's 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?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.

1 Vanward, the fore part. 2 Flew'd, the large chaps of a hound; sanded, their hues. 3 Party-coloured fool. 4a: in f. e. 5 her: in f. e.

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 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.

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 Flu. O, sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given utter sweet breath, and I do not doubt but to hear him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words : hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day away! go; away! [Exeunt. in Pyramus, or nothing.

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 antic 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,

To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,

Call Philostrate.
Philost.

Here, mighty Theseus.
The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
What mask? what music? How shall we beguile
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

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
And, as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation, and a name.

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.

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA.
Joy, gentle friends; joy, and fresh days of love,
Accompany your hearts!

Lys.

More than to us

Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! [have,
The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we
To wear away this long age. of three hours,
Between our after-supper, and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?

"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 wondrous seething1 snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord ?2
Philost. A play this 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 labour'd in their minds till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

1 strange in f. e. 2 This is the reading of the quartos. In the folio, Lysander reads the "brief," and Theseus comments.

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:
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,
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 addrest.'
The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.

Enter the 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 his 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 recorder2; a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain, Nothing impair'd, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter the PRESENTER, PYRAMUS, and THISBE, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion, as in dumb show. Pres. "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. 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 lion hight by name, 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 gentle 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 PRES., 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 befal,
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, hole, or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.

This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
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.

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 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.

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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."

ין.

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 this vile wall."
This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all."

1 Ready. 2 Flageolet. 3 Not in f. e. 4 This speech is given in f. e. to the Prologue.

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