Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence,Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,So that but one heart can you make of it.Two bosomes interchanged with an oath,So then two bosomes, and a single troth.Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily;Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied.But gentle friend, for loue and courtesieLie further off, in humane modesty,Such separation, as may well be said,Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend;Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end
Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I,And then end life, when I end loyalty:Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest
Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest.Enter Pucke. They sleepe.
Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone,But Athenian finde I none,One whose eyes I might approueThis flowers force in stirring loue.Nigh and silence: who is heere?Weedes of Athens he doth weare:This is he (my master said)Despised the Athenian maide:And heere the maiden sleeping sound,On the danke and durty ground.Pretty soule, she durst not lyeNeere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.Churle, vpon thy eyes I throwAll the power this charme doth owe:When thou wak'st, let loue forbidSleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.So awake when I am gone:For I must now to Oberon.Enter.
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius
De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus
Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so
De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.
Exit Demetrius.
Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace,The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace,Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies;For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes.How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares.If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers.No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,Therefore no maruaile, though DemetriusDoe as a monster, flie my presence thus.What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine,Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?But who is here? Lysander on the ground;Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound,Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake
Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art,That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart.Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a wordIs that vile name, to perish on my sword!Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so:What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content
Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repentThe tedious minutes I with her haue spent.Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?The will of man is by his reason sway'd:And reason saies you are the worthier Maide.Things growing are not ripe vntill their season;So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,And touching now the point of humane skill,Reason becomes the Marshall to my will.And leades me to your eyes, where I orelookeLoues stories, written in Loues richest booke
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?When at your hands did I deserue this scorne?Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man,That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye,But you must flout my insufficiency?Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe.But fare you well; perforce I must confesse,I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse.Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,Should of another therefore be abus'd.Enter
Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there,And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere;For as a surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomacke brings:Or as the heresies that men do leaue,Are hated most of those that did deceiue:So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie,Of all be hated; but the most of me;And all my powers addresse your loue and might,To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.Enter.
Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy bestTo plucke this crawling serpent from my brest.Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey.Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord,What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare.No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,Either death or you Ile finde immediately.Enter.
Actus Tertius.
Enter the Clownes.
Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke
Bot. Peter Quince?Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome?Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus andThisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw asword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide.How answere you that?Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare
Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, whenall is done
Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say, we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the Weauer; this will put them out of feare
Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shallbe written in eight and sixe
Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eightand eight
Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?Star. I feare it, I promise you
Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke to it
Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the ioyner
Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight
Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play ourplay?Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine.Enter Pucke.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night
Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement
Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the chinke of a wall
Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome? Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and Thisby whisper
Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his cue. Enter Robin.
Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggeringhere,So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene?What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause
Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth
Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete
Quin. Odours, odours
Pir. Odours sauors sweete,So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare.But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while,And by and by I will to thee appeare.
Exit. Pir.
Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here
This. Must I speake now?Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand hegoes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe
Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue,Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew,As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre,Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe
Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre
Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuertyre:Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine
Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; praymasters, flye masters, helpe.
The Clownes all Exit.
Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round,Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer,Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound:A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire,And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne,Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.Enter.
Enter Piramus with the Asse head.
Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of them to make me afeard. Enter Snowt
Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see onthee?Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of yourowne, do you?Enter Peter Quince.
Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated.Enter.
Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me, to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid. The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew, With Orenge-tawny bill. The Throstle, with his note so true, The Wren and little quill
Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,The plainsong Cuckow gray;Whose note full many a man doth marke,And dares not answere, nay.For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,neuer so?Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe,Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee.So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me
Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion
Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull
Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne
Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe,Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.I am a spirit of no common rate:The Summer still doth tend vpon my state,And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe,And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe:And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so,That thou shalt like an airie spirit go.Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foureFairies.
Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go?Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman,Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies,Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries,The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees,And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes,And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies,To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies.Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies
1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile
2.Fai. Haile
3.Fai. Haile
Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech your worships name
Cob. Cobweb
Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, goodMaster Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make boldwith you.Your name honest Gentleman?Pease. Pease Blossome
Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir? Mus. Mustard-seede
Peas. Pease-blossome
Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seede
Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower.The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie,And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower,Lamenting some enforced chastitie.Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently.Enter.
Enter King of Pharies, solus.
Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't;Then what it was that next came in her eye,Which she must dote on, in extremitie.Enter Pucke.
Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit,What night-rule now about this haunted groue?Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue,Neere to her close and consecrated bower,While she was in her dull and sleeping hower,A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals,That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals,Were met together to rehearse a Play,Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day:The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,Who Piramus presented, in their sport,Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake,When I did him at this aduantage take,An Asses nole I fixed on his head.Anon his Thisbie must be answered,And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie,As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort(Rising and cawing at the guns report)Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye:So at his sight, away his fellowes flye,And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals;He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals.Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong,Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong.For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch,Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch,I led them on in this distracted feare,And left sweete Piramus translated there:When in that moment (so it came to passe)Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse
Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise:But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to)And the Athenian woman by his side,That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde.Enter Demetrius and Hermia.
Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian
Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man
Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so?Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe
Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse.For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse,If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe,Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and killme too:The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as sooneThis whole earth may be bord, and that the MooneMay through the Center creepe, and so displeaseHer brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes.It cannot be but thou hast murdred him,So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim
Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I,Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty:Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare,As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare
Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he?Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me?Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds
Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the boundsOf maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then?Henceforth be neuer numbred among men.Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake?And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch:Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?An Adder did it: for with doubler tongueThen thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung
Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood,I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood:Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell
Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well
Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore?Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more;And from thy hated presence part I: see me no moreWhether he be dead or no.Enter.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine,Here therefore for a while I will remaine.So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow:For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe,Which now in some slight measure it will pay,If for his tender here I make some stay.
Lie downe.
Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quiteAnd laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight:Of thy misprision, must perforce ensueSome true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true
Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,A million faile, confounding oath on oath
Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde,And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere,With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare.By some illusion see thou bring her heere,Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare
Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.Enter.
Ob. Flower of this purple die,Hit with Cupids archery,Sinke in apple of his eye,When his loue he doth espie,Let her shine as gloriouslyAs the Venus of the sky.When thou wak'st if she be by,Beg of her for remedy.Enter Pucke.
Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,Helena is heere at hand,And the youth, mistooke by me,Pleading for a Louers fee.Shall we their fond Pageant see?Lord, what fooles these mortals be!Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make,Will cause Demetrius to awake
Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,That must needs be sport alone:And those things doe best please me,That befall preposterously.Enter Lysander and Helena.
Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn?Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares:Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne,In their natiuity all truth appeares.How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you?Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true
Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray!These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales)Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales
Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore
Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore
Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.
Awa.
Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine,To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne!Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisseThis Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse
Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bentTo set against me, for your merriment:If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,You would not doe me thus much iniury.Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to?If you are men, as men you are in show,You would not vse a gentle Lady so;To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts,When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,With your derision; none of noble sort,Would so offend a Virgin, and extortA poore soules patience, all to make you sport,Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so,For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;And here with all good will, with all my heart,In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;And yours of Helena, To me bequeath,Whom I do loue, and will do to my death
Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth
Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none:If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd,And now to Helen it is home return'd,There to remaine
Lys. It is not so
De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare.Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.Enter Hermia.
Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense,It paies the hearing double recompence.Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound.But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so?Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go?Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side?Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide)Faire Helena; who more engilds the night,Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light.Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know,The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so?Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be
Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy,Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three,To fashion this false sport in spight of me.Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'dTo baite me, with this foule derision?Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd,The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent,When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,For parting vs; O, is all forgot?All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence?We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods,Haue with our needles, created both one flower,Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,Both warbling of one song, both in one key:As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindesHad beene incorporate. So we grew together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet a vnion in partition,Two louely berries molded on one stem,So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,Due but to one and crowned with one crest.And will you rent our ancient loue asunder,To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it,Though I alone doe feele the iniurie
Her. I am amazed at your passionate words,I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me
Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorneTo follow me, and praise my eies and face?And made your other loue, Demetrius(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote)To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare,Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he thisTo her he hates? and wherefore doth LysanderDenie your loue (so rich within his soule)And tender me (forsooth) affection,But by your setting on, by your consent?What though I be not so in grace as you,So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?(But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd)This you should pittie, rather then despise
Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this
Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes,Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe,Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp:This sport well carried, shall be chronicled.If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,You would not make me such an argument:But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,Which death or absence soone shall remedie
Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse,My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena
Hel. O excellent!Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so
Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell
Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate.Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise.Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe;I sweare by that which I will lose for thee,To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not
Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do
Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too
Dem. Quick, come
Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this?Lys. Away, you Ethiope
Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose;Take on as you would follow,But yet come not: you are a tame man, go
Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose,Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent
Her. Why are you growne so rude?What change is this sweete Loue?Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence
Her. Do you not iest?Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you
Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee
Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiueA weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word
Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so
Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue?Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?I am as faire now, as I was ere while.Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me.Why then you left me (O the gods forbid)In earnest, shall I say?Lys. I, by my life;And neuer did desire to see thee more.Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,That I do hate thee, and loue Helena
Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome,You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,And stolne my loues heart from him?Hel. Fine yfaith:Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teareImpatient answers from my gentle tongue?Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you
Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game.Now I perceiue that she hath made compareBetweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,And with her personage, her tall personage,Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him.And are you growne so high in his esteeme,Because I am so dwarfish, and so low?How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,How low am I? I am not yet so low,But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes
Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst:I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse;I am a right maide for my cowardize;Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke,Because she is something lower then my selfe,That I can match her
Her. Lower? harke againe
Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me,I euermore did loue you Hermia,Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you,Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius,I told him of your stealth vnto this wood.He followed you, for loue I followed him,But he hath chid me hence, and threatned meTo strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too;And now, so you will let me quiet go,To Athens will I beare my folly backe,And follow you no further. Let me go.You see how simple, and how fond I am
Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you?Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde
Her. What, with Lysander?Her. With Demetrius
Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena
Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part
Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd,She was a vixen when she went to schoole,And though she be but little, she is fierce
Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?Let me come to her
Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made,You bead, you acorne
Dem. You are too officious,In her behalfe that scornes your seruices.Let her alone, speake not of Helena,Take not her part. For if thou dost intendNeuer so little shew of loue to her,Thou shalt abide it
Lys. Now she holds me not,Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right,Of thine or mine is most in Helena
Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke byiowle.
Exit Lysander and Demetrius.
Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you.Nay, goe not backe
Hel. I will not trust you I,Nor longer stay in your curst companie.Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,My legs are longer though to runne away.Enter Oberon and Pucke.
Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st,Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly
Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke,Did not you tell me, I should know the man,By the Athenian garments he hath on?And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize,That I haue nointed an Athenians eies,And so farre am I glad, it so did sort,As this their iangling I esteeme a sport
Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight,Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night,The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,And lead these testie Riuals so astray,As one come not within anothers way.Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue,Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;And from each other looke thou leade them thus,Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepeWith leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe:Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie,Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,To take from thence all error, with his might,and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight.When they next wake, all this derisionShall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision,And backe to Athens shall the Louers wendWith league, whose date till death shall neuer end.Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy,Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy;And then I will her charmed eie releaseFrom monsters view, and all things shall be peace
Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste,For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast,And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there,Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all,That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall,Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;For feare least day should looke their shames vpon,They wilfully themselues exile from light,And must for aye consort with blacke browd night
Ob. But we are spirits of another sort:I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,And like a Forrester, the groues may tread,Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red,Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames,Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames.But not withstanding haste, make no delay:We may effect this businesse, yet ere day
Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leadethem vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.Enter Lysander.
Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?Speake thou now
Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?Lys. I will be with thee straight
Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.Enter Demetrius.
Dem. Lysander, speake againe;Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head?Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe,Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'dThat drawes a sword on thee
Dem. Yea, art thou there?Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here.Enter.
Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on,When I come where he cals, then he's gone.The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I:I followed fast, but faster he did flye;
shifting places.
That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:
lye down.
For if but once thou shew me thy gray light,Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.Enter Robin and Demetrius.
Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not?Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot,Thou runst before me, shifting euery place,And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face.Where art thou?Rob. Come hither, I am here
Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy thisdeere,If euer I thy face by day-light see.Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me,To measure out my length on this cold bed,By daies approach looke to be visited.Enter Helena.
Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East,That I may backe to Athens by day-light,From these that my poore companie detest;And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie,Steale me a while from mine owne companie.
Sleepe.
Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,Two of both kindes makes vp foure.Here she comes, curst and sad,Cupid is a knauish lad,Enter Hermia.
Thus to make poore females mad
Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe,Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,I can no further crawle, no further goe;My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.Here will I rest me till the breake of day,Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray
Rob. On the ground sleepe sound,Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.When thou wak'st, thou tak'stTrue delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye,And the Country Prouerb knowne,That euery man should take his owne,In your waking shall be showne.Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill.The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall beewell.
They sleepe all the Act.
Actus Quartus.
Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them.
Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed,While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head,And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy
Clow. Where's Peaseblossome?Peas. Ready
Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's MounsieuerCobweb
Cob. Ready
Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready
Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed.Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur
Mus. What's your will? Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch
Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweetloue
Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Letvs haue the tongs and the bones.
Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.
Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat
Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow
Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy,That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard,And fetch thee new Nuts
Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me
Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms,Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle,Gently entwist; the female Iuy soEnrings the barky fingers of the Elme.O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.
Ob. Welcome good Robin:Seest thou this sweet sight?Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.For meeting her of late behinde the wood,Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole,I did vpbraid 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 somtime on the buds,Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles;Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.When I had at my pleasure taunted her,And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sentTo beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoeThis hatefull imperfection of her eyes.And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe,From off the head of this Athenian swaine;That he awaking when the other doe,May all to Athens backe againe repaire,And thinke no more of this nights accidents,But as the fierce vexation of dreame.But first I will release the Fairy Queene.Be thou as thou wast wont to be;See as thou wast wont to see.Dians bud, or Cupids flower,Hath such force and blessed power.Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene
Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene!Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse
Ob. There lies your loue
Tita. How came these things to passe?Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head:Titania, musick call, and strike more deadThen common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense
Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.
Musick still.
Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eiespeepe
Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with meAnd rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be.Now thou and I new in amity,And will to morrow midnight, solemnlyDance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly,And blesse it to all faire posterity.There shall the paires of faithfull Louers beWedded, with Theseus, all in iollity
Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,I doe heare the morning Larke,Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad,Trip we after the nights shade;We the Globe can compasse soone,Swifter then the wandering Moone
Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,Tell me how it came this night,That I sleeping heere was found,
Sleepers Lye still.
With these mortals on the ground.
Exeunt.
Winde Hornes.
Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.
Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester,For now our obseruation is perform'd;And since we haue the vaward of the day,My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds.Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe;Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester.We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top,And marke the musicall confusionOf hounds and eccho in coniunction
Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once.When in a wood of Creete they bayed the BeareWith hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heareSuch gallant chiding. For besides the groues,The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere,Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heardSo musicall a discord, such sweet thunder
Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde,So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hungWith eares that sweepe away the morning dew,Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls,Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,Each vnder each. A cry more tuneableWas neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne,In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly;Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these?Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe,And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,I wonder of this being heere together
The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserueThe right of May; and hearing our intent,Came heere in grace of our solemnity.But speake Egeus, is not this the dayThat Hermia should giue answer of her choice?Egeus. It is, my Lord
Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with theirhornes.
Hornes and they wake.
Shout within, they all start vp.
Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past,Begin these wood birds but to couple now?Lys. Pardon my Lord
Thes. I pray you all stand vp.I know you two are Riuall enemies.How comes this gentle concord in the world,That hatred is so farre from iealousie,To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity
Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly,Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare,I cannot truly say how I came heere.But as I thinke (for truly would I speake)And now I doe bethinke me, so it is;I came with Hermia hither. Our intentWas to be gone from Athens, where we might beWithout the perill of the Athenian Law
Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head:They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius,Thereby to haue 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, faire Helen told me of their stealth,Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,And I in furie hither followed them;Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power,(But by some power it is) my loueTo Hermia (melted as the snow)Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,Which in my childehood I did doat vpon:And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye,Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,But like a sickenesse did I loath this food,But as in health, come to my naturall taste,Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,And will for euermore be true to it
Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;Of this discourse we shall heare more anon.Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;For in the Temple, by and by with vs,These couples shall eternally be knit.And for the morning now is something worne,Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie.Come Hippolita.
Exit Duke and Lords.
Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable,Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds
Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye,When euery thing seemes double
Hel. So me-thinkes:And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,Mine owne, and not mine owne
Dem. It seemes to mee,That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?Her. Yea, and my Father
Hel. And Hippolita
Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple
Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs recount our dreames.
Bottome wakes.
Exit Louers.
Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse, if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was, and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole, if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. Enter.
Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.
Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he comehome yet?Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee istransported
This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goesnot forward, doth it?Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in allAthens, able to discharge Piramus but he
This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraftman in Athens
Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a veryParamour, for a sweet voyce
This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God blesse vs) a thing of nought. Enter Snug the Ioyner.
Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made men
This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing. Enter Bottome.
Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts?Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happiehoure!Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask menot what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. Iwill tell you euery thing as it fell out
Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome
Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.
Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of
The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeueThese anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes,Louers and mad men haue such seething braines,Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend moreThen coole reason euer comprehends.The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,Are of imagination all compact.One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold;That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke,Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glanceFrom heauen to earth, from earth to heauen.And as imagination bodies forth the forms of thingsVnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes,And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation,And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,That if it would but apprehend some ioy,It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.Or in the night, imagining some feare,Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer,And all their minds transfigur'd so together,More witnesseth than fancies images,And growes to something of great constancie;But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable.Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth:Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayesOf loue accompany your hearts
Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes,your boord, your bed
The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shallwe haue,To weare away this long age of three houres,Between our after supper, and bed-time?Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,To ease the anguish of a torturing houre?Call Egeus
Ege. Heere mighty Theseus
The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening?What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguileThe lazie time, if not with some delight?Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife:Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first
Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sungBy an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe
The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my LoueIn glory of my kinsman Hercules
Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals,Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaidWhen I from Thebes came last a Conqueror
Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the deathof learning, late deceast in beggerie
The. That is some Satire keene and criticall,Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie
Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth
The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? Thatis, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall weefinde the concord of this discord?Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long,Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne 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 tragicall my noble Lord it is: for PiramusTherein doth kill himselfe. Which when I sawRehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water:But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughterNeuer shed
Thes. What are they that do play it?Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memoriesWith this same play, against your nuptiall
The. And we will heare it
Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heardIt ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;Vnless you can finde sport in their intents,Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine,To doe you seruice
Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thingCan be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it.Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies
Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;And duty in his seruice perishing
Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing
Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde
Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothingOur sport shall be, to take what they mistake;And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respectTakes it in might, not merit.Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposedTo greete me with premeditated welcomes;Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,Make periods in the midst of sentences,Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:And in the modesty of fearefull duty,I read as much, as from the ratling tongueOf saucy and audacious eloquence.Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,In least, speake most, to my capacity
Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest
Duke. Let him approach.
Flor. Trum.
Enter the Prologue. Quince.
Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.That you should thinke, 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 despight.We do not come, as minding to content you,Our true intent is. All for your delight,We are not heere. 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
Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points
Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true
Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like achilde on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment
Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothingimpaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.This man is Piramus, if you would know;This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth presentWall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:And through walls chink (poor soules) they are contentTo whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorneTo meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,Did scarre away, or rather did affright:And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Exit all but Wall.
Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake
Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.
Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall,That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:Through which the Louers, Piramus and ThisbieDid whisper often, very secretly.This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.And this the cranny is, right and sinister,Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper
Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speakebetter?Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I hearddiscourse, my Lord
Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.Enter Pyramus.
Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke,O night, which euer art, when day is not:O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke,I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall,That stands between her fathers ground and mine,Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee
Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, shouldcurse againe
Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me,Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spyHer through the wall. You shall see it will fall.Enter Thisbie.
Pat as I told you; yonder she comes
This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,For parting my faire Piramus, and meMy cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee
Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke
Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,And like Limander am I trusty still
This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill
Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you
Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall
This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all
Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straightway?This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay
Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so;And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit Clow.
Du. Now is the morall downe between the twoNeighbours
Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull,to heare without warning
Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard
Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them
Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs
Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion. Enter Lyon and Moone-shine
Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feareThe smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore)May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner amA Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:For if I should as Lion come in strifeInto this place, 'twere pittie of my life
Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience
Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw
Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor
Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion
Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose
Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor: for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone