Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father;-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part: -and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? 'pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, Let him roar again. Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us every mother's son. Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright 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, gentleman-like 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 strawcoloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crowncolour 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 moonlight; there will we rehearse: for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogg'd with and company, 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. Take pains; be perfect, adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings. ACT II. [Exeunt. SCENE I. A Wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy at one door, and PUCK at another. Thorough bush, thorough briar, Thorough flood, thorough fire. In those freckles live their savours: Take heed, the queen come not within his sight. Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove, or green, By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen, But they do square; that all their elves, for fear, Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there. Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; Puck. And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe; And yexen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear Fai. And here my mistress:-'Would that he were gone! SCENE II. Enter OBERON, at one door, with his Train, and TITANIA, at another, with hers. Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. Tita. What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence; I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton: Am not I thy lord? Tita. Then I must be thy lady: But I know When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land, And in the shape of Corin sat all day, Playing on pipes of corn; and versing love To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, Come from the farthest steep of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded; and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity. Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Perigenia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair Ægle break his faith, With Ariadne, and Antiopa? Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy: Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, corn Hath rotted, ere his youth attain❜d a beard: And thorough this distemperature, we see And this same progeny of evils comes Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in you: Tita. Set your heart at rest, The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a vot'ress of my order: And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking the embarked traders on the flood; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait Following (her womb, then rich with my young 'squire), Would imitate; and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy: And, for her sake, I will not part with him. Obe, How long within this wood intend you stay? [day. Tita. Perchance, till after Theseus' weddingIf you will patiently dance in our round, And see our moon-light revels, go with us; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.' [away: Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom.-Fairies, We shall chide down-right, if I longer stay. [Exeunt TITANIA, and her 'Train. |