the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us, but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove: I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day, a most lovely, gentlemanlike man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus. Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced.—But masters, here are your parts; and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you. to con them by to-morrow night, and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light: there will we rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Quin. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough, hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-A Wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy and Рuck at opposite doors. Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fai. Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Thorough flood, thorough fire, In those freckles live their savours: ACT II. Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night. Take heed, the queen come not within his sight; For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king: She never had so sweet a changeling; | And jealous Oberon would have the child Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: | Puck. Fairy, thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, But room, Fairy: here comes Oberon. Fai. And here my mistress.-Would that he were gone! Enter OBERON, from one side, with his train, and Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord? Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night And make him with fair Æglé break his faith, Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : Ꮮ The ploughman lost his sweat: and the green corn Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in you. Tita. Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay? If you will patiently dance in our round, If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. [Exit TITANIA, with her train. But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, Obe. [Exit PUCK. Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: The next thing then she waking looks upon, (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) She shall pursue it with the soul of love; And ere I take this charm off from her sight, (As I can take it with another herb) I'll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here? I am invisible, And I will over-hear their conference. [Retiring. Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him. Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sick when I do look on thee. Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that. Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. |_ Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Dem. I will not stay thy questions: let me go; Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, [Exeunt DEM. and HEL. Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love. Re-enter PUCK. And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove : [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another Part of the Wood. Enter TITANIA, with her train. Tita. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence: Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats; and some keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices, and let me rest. FAIRIES' SONG. 1 Fai. You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen, Newts, and blind-worms, do no wrong; Come not near our fairy queen: CHORUS. Philomel, with melody, Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby : Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; Obe. What thou seest, when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true love take; [Exit. Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA. And tarry for the comfort of the day. Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both: Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence; Her. Lysander riddles very prettily. Enter PUCK. Puck. Through the forest have I gone, When thou wak'st, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid. [Exit. So awake when I am gone, For I must now to Oberon. Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running. Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. Dem. I charge thee, hence; and do not haunt me thus. Hel. O! wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. [Exit DEMETRIUS. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: For beasts that meet me, run away for fear; Lys. And run through fire I will, for thy sweet Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art, Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so. Lys. Content with Hermia? No: I do repent Who will not change a raven for a dove? So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong; good sooth, you do, In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well: perforce I must confess, I thought you lord of more true gentleness. [Exit. To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I.-The Same. TITANIA lying asleep. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our 'tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the duke. Bot. Peter Quince, Quin. What say'st thou, bully Bottom? Bot. There are things in this comedy of " Pyramus and Thisby," that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? Snout. By'rlakin, a parlous fear. Star. I believe, we must leave the killing out, when all is done. Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed: and, for the more better assurance, tell them, that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear. Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six. Bot. No, make it two more: let it be written in eight and eight. Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ? Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves to bring in, God shield us! a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living, and we ought to look to it. Snout. Therefore, another prologue must tell he is not a lion. Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect:-" Ladies, or fair ladies, I would wish you, or, I would request you, or, I would entreat you, not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity 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 them plainly he is Snug, the joiner. Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things: that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. Snug. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanack; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. Bot. Why, then you may leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the casement. Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say, he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby (says the story,) did talk through the chink of a wall. Snug. You can never bring in a wall.-What say you, Bottom? Bot. Some man or other must present wall; and let him have some plaster, or some lime, or some roughcast about him, to signify wall: and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin. When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every one according to his cue. This. Must I speak now? [Exit. [Exit. Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand, he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. This. "Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb." Quin. Ninus' tomb, man. Why you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues and all.-Pyramus, enter: your cue is 66 it is, past; never tire." Re-enter Puck, and ВOттOм with an ass's head on. This. O!—“ As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire." Pyr. "If I were, fair Thisby, I were only thine."– Quin. O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! help! [Exeunt Clowns, in confusion. Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit. Bot. Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them, to make me afeard. Re-enter SNOUT. Snout. O Bottom! thou art changed: what do I see on thee? [Exit, frightened. Bot. What do you see? you see an ass's head of your own, do you? Re-enter QUINCE. Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit, frightened. Bot. I see their knavery. This is to make an ass of me, to fright me, if they could; but I will not stir from this place, do what they can. I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. [Sings. Tita. Bot. The oosel-cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawney bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill. What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? [Waking. The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, And dares not answer, nay; for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry "cuckoo" never so? Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note, So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force, perforce, doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days. The more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state, And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep: And I will purge thy mortal grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Peas-blossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustard-seed! Enter four Fairies. 1 Fai. Ready. 2 Fai. 3 Fai. 4 Fai. And I. And I. Where shall we go? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman: Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Their honey bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs, |