SCINE I.-Athens. A Room in the Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace: four happy days bring in Another moon; but, oh, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; New bent in heaven, shall behold the night Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I; with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.- With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, To stubborn harshness.-And, my gracious duke, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, Or on Diana's altar to protest, Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, And what is mine my love shall render him; Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, am belov'd of beauteous Hermia. I Why should not I then prosecute my right? Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair Upon this spotted and inconstant man. maid. To you your father should be as a god; One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one Her. So is Lysander. In himself he is; The. Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes! The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts; The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, The. Take time to pause: and by the next new moon, The sealing-day betwixt my love and me Upon that day either prepare to die, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it.-But, Demetrius, come; I have some private schooling for you both.- I must employ you in some business [Exeunt THES., HIP., EGE., DEM., and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth; But, either it was different in blood, Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low' Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;Her. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young! Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends:Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes! Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say,-behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If, then, true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then, let us teach our trial patience, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Lys. A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child: Her. My good Lysander! By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves, Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. Enter HELENA. Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold. To-morrow night when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat❜ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet; And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and strange companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight. [Erit HERMIA. Lys. I will, my Hermia.-Helena, adieu: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Exit LYSANDer. Hel. How happy some, o'er other some, can be! Things base and vil'd, holding no quantity, If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I will condole in some measure. To the rest:-yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "And shivering shocks, 'Shall break the locks "Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus' car "Shall shine from far, "And make and mar "The foolish fates." This was lofty!—Now name the rest of the players. -This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman: I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one. You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too. I'll speak in a monstrous little voice:-"Thisne, Thisne-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!" 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 To have his sight thither, and back again. [Exit. mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker. SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in a Cottage. Enter QUINCE, Snug, Bottom, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVEling. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors, and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. 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, 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 strawcolour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purplein-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 inasters, 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. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. [Exeunt. |