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: Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Enter Philostrate. Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.1 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter Prologue. Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, 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 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. ‘This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which by name lion hight,3 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 cones 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 drow, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, 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: 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 Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for [Wall holds up his fingers. eyne. this! "But what see I? No Thisby do I sec. Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue,O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss; like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in 'Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!' government. The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. 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. 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: "This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth presentMy cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones; 'Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers "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.' (3) Called. . ་ Pyr. 'Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's Lys. Proceed, moon. This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.' Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb ineet me straightway?' 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, science. 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 Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for they are in the moon. But, silence; here comes Thisbe. Enter Thisbe. This. This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my love?' Lion. Oh-.' [The Lion roars.-Thisbe runs off. Dem. Well roared, lion. The. Well: run, Thisbe. Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shine's with a good grace. The. Well moused, lion. [The lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes, Pur. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright: 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? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, O fales! come, come; 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." 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.1 Hip. I am aweary 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. Come, tears, confound "Out, sword, and wound "The pap of Pyramus: Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop: "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 'Now am I dead, 'Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light! 'Moon, take thy flight! "Now, die, dic, 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. '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, 'Since you have shore 'With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word:'Come, trusty sword; 'Come, blade, my breast imbrue; And farewell, friends; Thus, 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 blained. 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, The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends, to bed.- SCENE II-Enter Puck. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, [Exeunt. Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Now it is the time of night, (2) Overcome. 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 light, 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. 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.- · And each several chamber bless, Puck. [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train. Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, Mercade, France. Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard. Jaquonetta, a country wench. Sir Nathaniel, a curate. Holofernes, a schoolmaster. Dull, a constable. Costard, a clown. Moth, page to Armado. ACT I. SCENE I.—Navarre. A park, 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 make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors!—for so you are, Biron. I can but say their protestation over, And, one day in a week to touch no food; I King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please; only swore, to study with your grace, And stay here in your court for three years' space. Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest. Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. What is the end of study? let me know. not know. Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense; King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. Biron. Come on, then, I will swear to study so. To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus-To study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or, study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid: Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth." If study's gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that, which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say, no. King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight. Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain : To seek the like of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile : So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. (1) Dishonestly treacherously, Study me how to please the eye indeed, That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the Biron. The spring is near, when green geese Fit in his place and time. Dum. In reason nothing. Something then in rhyme. mer boast, Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in an abortive birth? At Christmas, I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;2 Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. And, though I have for barbarism spoke more, Biron. [Reads.] Item, That no woman shall Long. Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.]-On pain of losing her tongue.— Who devis'd this Long. Marry, that did I. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility. This article, my liege, yourself must break; For, well you know, here comes in embassy The French king's daughter, with yourself to speak, A maid of grace, and complete majesty,About surrender-up of Aquitain To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: Therefore this article is made in vain, Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot. Biron. So study evermore is overshot; While it doth study to have what it would, It doth forget to do the thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. King. We must, of force, dispense with this decree ; She must lie3 here on merc necessity. Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space : For every man with his affects is born; Not by might master'd, but by special grace: I [Subscribes. And he that breaks them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternal shame : I Suggestions are to others, as to me; But, I believe, although I seem so loth, am the last that will last keep his oath. But is there no quick recreation granted: King. Ay, that there is: our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain; A man in all the world's new fashion planted, For interim to our studies, shall relate, A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. And, so to study, three years is but short. Enter Dull, with a letter, and Costard. Dull. Which is the duke's own person? Biron. This, fellow; What would'st? Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough: but I would see his ? own person in flesh and blood. Biron. This is he. Dull. Signior Arme-Arme-commends you.There's villany abroad; this letter will tell you |