A Midsummer Night's Dream (Folio 1, 1623)
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¶
Actus Quintus.
¶
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.
¶Then coole reason euer comprehends.
¶The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,
1800Are of imagination all compact.
¶That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke,
¶Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt.
¶The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance
1805From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen.
¶And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things
¶Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes,
¶And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation,
¶And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination,
1810That if it would but apprehend some ioy,
¶It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.
¶Or in the night, imagining some feare,
¶
Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia,
1820and Helena.
¶The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth:
¶Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes
¶Of loue accompany your hearts.
¶Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes,
1825your boord, your bed.
¶we haue,
¶To weare away this long age of three houres,
¶Between our after supper, and bed-time?
1830Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?
¶What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,
¶Call Egeus.
1835The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this eue-
¶ning?
¶The lazie time, if not with some delight?
¶By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe.
¶The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue
¶In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
¶Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage?
¶The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid
¶When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror.
1850of learning, late deceast in beggerie.
¶Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie.
¶Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,
¶And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth.
1855The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That
¶finde the concord of this discord?
¶Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play;
1860But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long;
¶Which makes it tedious. For in all the play,
¶There is not one word apt, one Player fitted.
¶And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus
¶Neuer shed.
¶Thes. What are they that do play it?
¶Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,
1870Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;
¶And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories
¶The. And we will heare it.
¶Phi. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
1875It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
¶Extreamely stretcht, and cond with cruell paine,
¶To doe you seruice.
¶Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
¶Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.
¶Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
¶And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
¶Takes it in might, not merit.
1890Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
¶To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
¶Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,
1895And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
¶Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:
¶And in the modesty of fearefull duty,
¶I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
1900Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
¶Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
1905
Enter the Prologue. Quince.
¶Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
¶That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
¶That is the true beginning of our end.
¶We do not come, as minding to content you,
¶Our true intent is. All for your delight,
¶We are not heere. That you should here repent you,
¶The Actors are at hand; and by their show,
1915You shall know all, that you are like to know.
¶Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
¶knowes not the stop. A good morall my Lord. It is not
1920Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
¶childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment.
¶impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
¶
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
1925
Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
¶But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
¶This man is Piramus, if you would know;
¶This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
¶And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content
¶To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.
¶This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,
¶To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
¶This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
1940Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
¶Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
¶Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
¶And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
1945Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
¶He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
¶And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
¶His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
¶Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
¶
Exit all but Wall.
¶Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when
1955
Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
¶That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
¶And such a wall, as I vvould haue you thinke,
¶That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
1960Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
1965Through which the fearefull Louers are to whisper.
¶better?
¶
Enter Pyramus.
¶O night, which euer art, when day is not:
¶O night, ô night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
1975I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
¶And thou ô vvall, thou sweet and louely vvall,
¶That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
¶Thou vvall, ô vvall, o sweet and louely vvall,
¶Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through vvith mine eine.
1980Thankes courteous vvall. Ioue shield thee vvell for this.
1985curse againe.
¶
Enter Thisbie.
1990Pat as I told you; yonder she comes.
¶For parting my faire Piramus, and me.
¶Thy stones vvith Lime and Haire knit vp in thee.
¶To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?
¶This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke.
¶Pir. Thinke vvhat thou vvilt, I am thy Louers grace,
2000This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill.
¶This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
¶way?
¶This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
¶And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit Clow.
¶Neighbors.
¶full, to heare without vvarning.
2020two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion.
¶
Enter Lyon and Moone-shine.
¶May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
2025When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.
¶Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am
¶A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:
¶Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life.
¶Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor.
¶for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to
¶his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone.
2040sent.
¶within the circumference.
¶Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
¶i'th Moone?
¶Dem. He dares not come there for the candle.
¶Dut. I am vvearie of this Moone; vvould he would
¶change.
¶Lys. Proceed Moone.
¶Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this
¶they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby
.
¶
Enter Thisby.
¶Lyon. Oh.
2065
The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.
¶Du. Well run Thisby.
¶Truly the Moone shines with a good grace.
2070Du. Wel mouz'd Lion.
¶Dem. And then came Piramus.
¶
Enter Piramus.
¶For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
¶What dreadful dole is heere?
2080Eyes do you see! How can it be!
¶O dainty Ducke: O Deere!
¶Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!
¶Approch you Furies fell:
¶O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum,
2085Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell.
¶Would go neere to make a man looke sad.
2090Since Lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
¶Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
¶That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheere.
¶Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
¶The pap of Piramus:
2095I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
¶Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
¶Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,
¶Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye.
¶thing.
¶Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet reco-
¶Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.
¶
Enter Thisby.
¶Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
¶which Thisby is the better.
¶O Piramus arise:
¶Speake, Speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe
¶Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone:
¶His eyes were greene as Leekes.
2125With hands as pale as Milke,
¶Come blade, my brest imbrue:
2130And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends;
¶Adieu, adieu, adieu.
¶Deme. I, and Wall too.
¶to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our com-
¶pany?
¶Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs
2140dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that
¶writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies
¶garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is
¶truely, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your
¶Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone.
2145The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue.
¶Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.
¶As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht.
2150The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed.
¶A fortnight hold we this solemnity.
¶In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Pucke.
¶Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores,
2155And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
¶All with weary taske fore-done.
¶Now the wasted brands doe glow,
2160Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
¶In remembrance of a shrowd.
¶Now it is the time of night,
¶That the graues, all gaping wide,
¶Euery one lets forth his spright,
2165In the Church-way paths to glide,
¶And we Fairies, that do runne,
¶By the triple Hecates teame,
¶From the presence of the Sunne,
2170Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
¶I am sent with broome before,
¶
Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.
¶By the dead and drowsie fier,
¶Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright,
¶Hop as light as bird from brier,
¶And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie.
¶To each word a warbling note.
¶Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
¶
The Song.
2185
Now vntill the breake of day,
¶To the best Bride-bed will we,2190Euer shall be fortunate:¶So shall all the couples three,¶Euer true in louing be:¶And the blots of Natures hand,2195Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,¶Nor mark prodigious, such as are¶Shall vpon their children be.¶With this field dew consecrate,2200Euery Fairy take his gate,¶Through this Pallace with sweet peace,¶And the owner of it blest.2205Trip away, make no stay;¶Meet me all by breake of day.
