The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

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, Egens; 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-hirds 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

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, then, 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 bellowsmy life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's 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 1 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 my 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 cious, I shall sing it at her death. duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gra

[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 la dies 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 these hearts?

Quin. Bottom!-0 most courageous day! O The lazy time, if not with some delight? most happy hour! Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe;

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what: for, if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out.

Make choice of which your highness will see
first.
[Giving a paper.

The. [Reads. The battle with the Centaurs,
to be sung

Quin Let us hear, sweet Bottom. Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell By an Athenian eunuch to the harp. you, is, that the duke hath dined: Get your We'll none of that: that have I told my love, apparel together; good strings to your beards, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. new ribbons to your pumps: meet presently at The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage. the short and the long is, our play is preferred. That is an old device; and it was play'd In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and When I from Thebes came last a conqueror, let not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, The thrice three Muses mourning for the death for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor gar-That is some satire, keen, and critical, lick, 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.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The same.

An Apartment in the Palace of Theseus. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants.

Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.

The. More strange than true. I never may
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.
Such 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 minds 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. Here come the lovers, full of joy and
mirth.-

More than to us

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?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

Philost.

Here, mighty Theseus.

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

What mask? what musick? How shall we beguile

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

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
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
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,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world:
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'er-
charg'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:
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

"To whisper; at the which let no man wonder. "This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn. "Presenteth moon-shine: for, if you will 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 ravely 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 Snont 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 whisper."

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!

Enter Pyramus.

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

night, which ever art, when day is not! "O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, "I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!"And thon, 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 eyne. [Wall holds up his fingers. "Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!

wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss: "But what see 1? No Thisby do I see. "Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me !" The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving should curse again. am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, me, is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and 1 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 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."

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 Here come two noble beasts in, a moon

men.

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 conscience.

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 sma!l 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; 1, 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.

Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines 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.

"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;-0 spite!

"But mark;-Poor knight, "What dreadful dole is here?

"Eyes, do you see 7

"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 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.

"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 1 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.

Thisbe comes pack and finds her lover?
Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before
The. She will find him by star-light.-flere
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
"O Pyramus, arise,

"Speak, speak. Quite dumb 7
"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:

"Adien, adieu, adien."

[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 ontsleep 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.

SCENE II.

Enter Puck.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in wo,

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,.
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run,

By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolick: 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:
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

SONG AND DANCE.

Obe. Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.

To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create,
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be:

And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.-
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gate;

And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace:
E'er shall it in safety rest,
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away;

Make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train. Puck. we shadows have offended,

Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

FERDINAND, King of Navarre.

BIRON,

COSTARD, a Clown.

LONGAVILLE, Lords, attending on the MOTH, Page to Armado.

DUMAIN,

King.

BOYET, Lords,attending on the Princess MERCADE, of France.

DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a fantastical
Spaniard.

SIR NATHANIEL, a Curate.
HOLOFERNES, a Schoolmaster.
DULL, a Constable.

ACT I.

A Forester.

ROSALINE,

[Exit.

Princess of France.

MARIA,

KATHARINE,

Ladies, attending on the Princess.

JAQUENETTA, a country Wench. Officers and others, attendants on the King and Princess.

SCENE-Navarre.

SCENE L 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 then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen
edge,

And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors!-for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires,-
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;

Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your

names;

That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein:
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oath, and keep it too.
Long. I am resolv'd: 'tis but a three years'
fast;

The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified;
The grosser manier of these world's delights

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