The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

Here will I rest me, till the break of day, Heaven shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!

Puck. On the ground Sleep sound:

I'll apply

To your eye,

Gentle lover, remedy.

[Lies down.

Oberon advances. Enter Puck.

Obe. Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this

sweet sight?

Her dotage now I do begin to pity.

For meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her:

[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's eye. For she his hairy temples then had rounded

When thou wak'st,

Thou tak'st
True delight

In the sight

Of thy former lady's eye:

And the country proverb known,

That every man should take his own,
In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;

The man shall have his mare again, and all shall [Exit Puck.-Dem. Hel. &c. sleep.

be well.

Must. What's your will?

Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help cavalero Cobweb' to scratch. I must to the bar. ber's, monsieur; for, methinks, I am marvellous hairy about the face: and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Tita What, wilt thou hear some musick, my sweet love?

Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in musick; let us have the tongs and the bones.

Tita. O say, sweet love, what thou desir'st to

eat.

With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round, and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowrets' eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
The hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain;
That he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair;
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be, as thou was wont to be.

[Touching her eyes with an herb.
See, as thou was wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Hath such force and blessed power.

Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. Obe. There lies your love.

Tita.

How came these things to pass? O how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! Obe. Silence, awhile.--Robin, take off this head.Titania, musick call; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tita. Musick, ho! musick; such as charmeth sleep.

Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, musick. [Still musick.] Come, my
queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in Duke Theseus' house, triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair posterity;
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade: We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon. Tita. Come, my lord; and in our flight, 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 musick of my hounds.-
Uncouple in the western valley; 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-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian
bulls;

Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth-like bells;
Each under each. A cry more tunable
Was never holla'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 shout 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.

The.

He and the rest kneel to Theseus.
I pray you all, stand up.
I know you are two 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, De-
metrius,

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 followed 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 doth 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 loathe 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

eye,

So methinks:

When every thing seems double.
Hel.
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.
Dem.
Are you sure
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, en, we are awake: let's follow
him;
And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.
[Exeunt.

As they go out, Bottom awakes. Bot. 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 patched 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 niy 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 a play, before the duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her 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.

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 handicraft 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.

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hang'd; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter Bottom.

Bot. Where are these lads? where are thesa hearts ?

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.

stin, Bottom 1-0 most courageous day! O

most happy hour!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but Ath 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. You, is, that the duke hath dined: Get your All that I will tell 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, In myrt and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and fet not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go, away. [Exeunt.

believe

These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatick, 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 frantick,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth
to heaven;

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.
Sach 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 supposed a bear?

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their ininds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and
Helena.

The lazy time, if not with some delight?

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.

More than to us

129

Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are Make choice of which your highness will see ripe; [Giving a paper. The. [Reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung

first.

We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love,
Accompany your hearts!
Lys.
Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed!
The. Come now; what masks, what dances
shall we have,

To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after supper, and bed time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth 7
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour 7
Call Philostrate.

Philost.

Here, mighty Theseus.

The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
That is some satire, keen, and critical,
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
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 wonderous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten

The. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?

What mask what musick? How shall we beguile

words long;

Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long;
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
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.
The. And we will hear it.

Philost.

No, my noble lord,
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world:
Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you service.
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'er-
charg'd,

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 pur-
posed

To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttled 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 Prologue.

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. "O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black;

Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think 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 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 re-

pent 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

know,

"By moon-shine did these lovers think no scorn
"To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
"This grisly beast, which by name lion hight,
"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 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 drew, and died. For all the rest,
"Let lion, moon-shine, 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:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
"Through which the fearful lovers are to whis-
Per."

The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak
better?

Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever heard discourse, my lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

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 Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well mine eyne. [Wall holds up his fingers.

for this!

"But what see 1? No Thisby do I see.

wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss: "Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!" The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. 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:
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee."
"My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones :
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."

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."

Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway ?"

This. "Tide life, tide death, I come without delay. "

Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged

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,

"May now, perchance, both quake and tremble

here,

"When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar, "Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: "For if I should as lion come in strife 1" Into this place, 'twere pity on my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conIscience.

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 head.

The He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon

present:

"Myself the man i' the 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.

Hip. I am a weary 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. Lys. Proceed, moon.

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.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

streams,

"I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.

"But stay;-0 spite!

"But mark;-Poor knight,

"What dreadful dole is here?

"Eyes, do you see?

"How can it be?

"O dainty duck! O dear!

"Thy mantle good,

"What, stain'd with blood?

"Approach, ye furies fell!
"O'fates! come, come;
"Cut thread and thrum;

"Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!" The. This passion, and the death of a dear riend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. "0, 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.

"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, die, 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. Enter Thisbe.

Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus: I hope, she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.-
This. "Asleep, my love 7
"What, dead, my dove 7
"O Pyramus, arise,

"Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
"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 blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hang'd 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 outsleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd The heavy gait of night.-Sweet friends,to bed.A fortnight hold we this solemnity In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt

« Zurück Weiter »

Books

The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: From the Text of the Corrected ...