A Midsummer Night's Dream (Folio 1, 1623)
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A
MIDSOMMER
Nights Dreame.
1
Actus primus.
¶
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.
¶
Theseus.
¶NOw faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
5Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
¶Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
¶This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
¶Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,
¶Long withering out a yong mans reuennew.
¶Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:
¶And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,
¶Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night
¶Of our solemnities.
¶Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
¶Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,
¶Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:
¶The pale companion is not for our pompe,
20Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
¶And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries:
¶But I will wed thee in another key,
¶With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling.
¶
Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander,
25and Demetrius.
¶The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee?
¶Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint
¶Against my childe, my daughter Hermia.
30
Stand forth Demetrius.
¶My Noble Lord,
¶This man hath my consent to marrie her.
¶
Stand forth Lysander.
¶And my gracious Duke,
35This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe:
¶And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe:
¶With faining voice, verses of faining loue,
¶With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits,
¶Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth)
¶With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart,
45Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me)
¶Consent to marrie with Demetrius,
¶I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens;
¶Which shall be either to this Gentleman,
¶Or to her death, according to our Law,
¶Immediately prouided in that case.
55To you your Father should be as a God;
¶One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one
¶To whom you are but as a forme in waxe
¶By him imprinted: and within his power,
¶To leaue the figure, or disfigure it:
60Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman.
¶But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce.
¶The other must be held the worthier.
65Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
¶Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
¶I know not by what power I am made bold,
¶Nor how it may concerne my modestie
¶But I beseech your Grace, that I may know
¶If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
¶The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure
75For euer the society of men.
¶Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
¶Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice)
¶You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne,
¶To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage,
¶Then that which withering on the virgin thorne,
¶Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp
¶The sealing day betwixt my loue and me,
95Vpon that day either prepare to dye,
¶For disobedience to your fathers will,
¶Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would,
¶Or on Dianaes Altar to protest
¶Thy crazed title to my certaine right.
¶Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius:
¶Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him.
105And what is mine, my loue shall render him.
¶And she is mine, and all my right of her,
¶I do estate vnto Demetrius.
¶Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he,
110My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd
¶(If not with vantage) as Demetrius:
¶I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia.
115Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head,
¶Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena,
¶Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry,
¶And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof:
¶But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires,
¶My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come,
¶And come Egeus, you shall go with me,
¶For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe,
¶To fit your fancies to your Fathers will;
¶Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp
¶(Which by no meanes we may extenuate)
130To death, or to a vow of single life.
¶Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue?
¶Demetrius and Egeus go along:
¶Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you
¶
Manet Lysander and Hermia.
140Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well
¶Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes.
¶Lys. For ought that euer I could reade,
¶Could euer heare by tale or historie,
145But either it was different in blood.
¶Making it momentarie, as a sound:
155Briefe as the lightning in the collied night,
¶That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth;
¶And ere a man hath power to say, behold,
¶The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp:
¶So quicke bright things come to confusion.
¶Then let vs teach our triall patience,
¶As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes,
165Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers.
¶I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager,
¶Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe,
¶There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee,
¶And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law
¶Steale forth thy fathers house to morrow night:
175And in the wood, a league without the towne,
¶(Where I did meete thee once with Helena,
¶To do obseruance for a morne of May)
¶There will I stay for thee.
¶By his best arrow with the golden head,
¶By the simplicitie of Venus Doues,
¶And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene,
¶By all the vowes that euer men haue broke,
¶(In number more then euer women spoke)
¶To morrow truly will I meete with thee.
¶
Enter Helena.
¶Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire!
¶More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare,
¶When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare,
¶Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go,
200My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye,
¶Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
¶O teach me how you looke, and with what art
205you sway the motion of Demetrius hart.
¶Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me.
¶Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me.
¶Her. His folly Helena is none of mine.
¶Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine
¶Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee.
¶O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell,
220That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell.
¶Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold,
¶To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
225(A time that Louers flights doth still conceale)
¶Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale.
¶Her. And in the wood, where often you and I,
¶Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye,
¶And thence from Athens turne away our eyes
¶Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs,
¶And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius.
¶From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.
¶
Exit Hermia.
¶As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.
Exit Lysander.
¶Through Athens I am thought as faire as she.
¶But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so:
¶He will not know, what all, but he doth know,
¶And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes;
245So I, admiring of his qualities:
¶Things base and vilde, holding no quantity,
¶Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde,
¶And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde.
250Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste:
¶Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste.
¶And therefore is Loue said to be a childe,
255So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where.
¶For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne,
¶He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine.
¶And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt,
260I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight:
¶Then to the wood will he, to morrow night
¶Pursue her; and for his intelligence,
¶If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence:
¶But heerein meane I to enrich my paine,
265To haue his sight thither, and backe againe.
Exit.
¶
Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the
¶man according to the scrip.
¶is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enter-
¶lude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding
275day at night.
¶on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on
¶to a point.
280dy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie.
¶merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors
285Weauer.
¶Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and
¶proceed.
¶ramus.
290Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant?
¶loue.
¶ming of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies:
¶To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could
¶play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all
300from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This
¶was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This
¶is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condo-
¶ling.
¶Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender.
305Flu. Heere Peter Quince.
¶Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight?
¶Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a
310beard comming.
¶Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too:
315Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady
¶deare.
¶Thisby.
¶Bot. Well, proceed.
320Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor.
¶Star. Heere Peter Quince.
¶mother?
¶Tom Snowt, the Tinker.
325Snowt. Heere Peter Quince.
¶Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there
¶is a play fitted.
¶Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if
¶Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing
¶but roaring.
¶Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I
¶will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare,
335that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let
¶him roare againe.
¶shrike, and that were enough to hang vs all.
¶fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would
¶grauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as
¶gale.
350fore you must needs play Piramus.
¶Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I
¶best to play it in?
¶Quin. Why, what you will.
355beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine
¶beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your per-
¶fect yellow.
¶Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire
¶at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here
360are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and
¶desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet
¶me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by
¶Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in
¶perties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not.
¶fect, adieu.
370Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete.
¶
Actus Secundus
.
¶
Enter a Fairie at one doore, and Robin good-
¶fellow at another.
¶Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire,
¶Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors,
385And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare.
¶Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon,
¶Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon.
¶Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night,
¶Take heed the Queene come not within his sight,
¶A louely boy stolne from an Indian King,
¶And iealovs Oberon would haue the childe
395Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde.
¶But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy,
¶Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy.
¶And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene,
400But they do square, that all their Elues for feare
¶Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there.
¶Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee,
405That frights the maidens of the Villagree,
¶Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne,
¶And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme,
¶Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme,
¶You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke.
¶Are not you he?
¶I am that merrie wanderer of the night:
¶When I a fat and beane-fed horse beguile,
¶And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale.
425And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe.
¶And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
¶And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare,
¶A merrier houre vvas neuer wasted there.
¶But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon.
¶Would that he vvere gone.
¶
Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine,
¶and the Queene at another with hers.
435Proud Tytania.
¶I haue forsworne his bed and companie.
¶Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue
¶To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere
445But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon
¶To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie.
450Glance at my credite, vvith Hippolita?
¶Knowing I knovv thy loue to Theseus?
¶Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night
¶From Peregenia, whom he rauished?
¶And make him vvith faire Eagles breake his faith
455With Ariadne, and Atiopa?
¶Met vve on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead,
¶By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke,
460Or in the beached margent of the sea,
¶To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde,
¶Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine,
465Contagiovs fogges: Which falling in the Land,
¶Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud,
¶That they haue ouer-borne their Continents.
¶The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine,
470Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard:
¶The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
¶And Crowes are fatted vvith the murrion flocke,
¶The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud,
¶And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene,
¶The humane mortals want their winter heere,
¶No night is now with hymne or caroll blest;
¶Pale in her anger, washes all the aire;
¶And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne,
485An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds
¶Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer,
¶The childing Autumne, angry Winter change
¶Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world,
¶By their increase, now knowes not which is which;
490And this same progeny of euills,
¶We are their parents and originall.
¶Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you,
495I do but beg a little changeling boy,
¶To be my Henchman.
¶The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me,
500And in the spiced Indian aire, by night
¶Marking th'embarked traders on the flood,
505And grow big bellied with the wanton winde:
¶Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire)
¶Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land,
¶To fetch me trifles, and returne againe,
510As from a voyage, rich with merchandize.
¶But she being mortall, of that boy did die,
¶And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy,
¶And for her sake I will not part with him.
¶If you will patiently dance in our Round,
¶And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs;
¶Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee.
520Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away:
Exeunt.
¶Till I torment thee for this iniury.
¶My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest
525Since once I sat vpon a promontory,
¶And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe,
¶Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
530To heare the Sea-maids musicke.
¶Puc. I remember.
¶Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth,
¶Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke
¶Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone;
¶In maiden meditation, fancy free.
¶Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
¶It fell vpon a little westerne flower;
¶Before, milke-white; now purple with loues wound,
¶Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once,
¶The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid,
¶Will make or man or woman madly dote
¶Vpon the next liue creature that it sees.
550Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe,
¶Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league.
¶nutes.
¶Ober. Hauing once this iuyce,
¶And drop the liquor of it in her eyes:
¶The next thing when she waking lookes vpon,
¶(Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull,
¶On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape)
¶And ere I take this charme off from her sight,
¶(As I can take it with another hearbe)
¶Ile make her render vp her Page to me.
¶But who comes heere? I am inuisible,
565And I will ouer-heare their conference.
¶
Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.
¶Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia?
¶And heere am I, and wood within this wood,
¶Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
¶Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
¶Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant,
575But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart
¶Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw,
¶And I shall haue no power to follow you.
¶Or rather doe I not in plainest truth,
580Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you?
¶Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more;
¶I am your spaniell, and Demetrius,
¶The more you beat me, I will fawne on you.
585Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue
¶(Vnworthy as I am) to follow you.
¶What worser place can I beg in your loue,
¶(And yet a place of high respect with me)
¶Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge.
¶For I am sicke when I do looke on thee.
¶To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe
595Into the hands of one that loues you not,
¶To trust the opportunity of night,
¶With the rich worth of your virginity.
¶Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that
600It is not night when I doe see your face.
¶Therefore I thinke I am not in the night,
¶Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company,
¶For you in my respect are nll the world.
¶Then how can it be said I am alone,
605When all the world is heere to looke on me?
¶Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes,
¶And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts.
610Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase;
¶The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde
615Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue,
¶Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field
¶You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius,
620We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe;
¶We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe.
¶I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell,
¶To die vpon the hand I loue so well.
Exit.
¶Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue,
¶Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer.
¶
Enter Pucke.
¶Ob. I pray thee giue it me.
630I know a banke where the wilde time blowes,
¶Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes,
¶Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine,
635Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight:
¶Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in.
¶And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes,
¶And make her full of hatefull fantasies.
¶A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue
¶With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes,
¶But doe it when the next thing he espies,
¶May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man,
645By the Athenian garments he hath on.
¶Effect it with some care, that he may proue
¶More fond on her, then she vpon her loue;
¶And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow.
Exit.
650
Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.
¶Then for the third part of a minute hence,
¶Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings,
¶The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders
¶Then to your offices, and let me rest.
¶
Fairies Sing.
660
You spotted Snakes with double tongue,
665Sing in your sweet Lullaby.
Shee sleepes.
¶
Enter Oberon.
¶Doe it for thy true Loue take:
¶Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare,
¶Pard, or Boare with bristled haire,
¶In thy eye that shall appeare,
¶When thou wak'st, it is thy deare,
685Wake when some vile thing is neere.
¶
Enter Lisander and Hermia.
¶And to speake troth I haue forgot our way:
¶Wee'll rest vs Hermia, if you thinke it good,
690And tarry for the comfort of the day.
¶For I vpon this banke will rest my head.
¶One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth.
¶Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere.
¶Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference,
¶I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit,
700So that but one heart can you make of it.
¶Two bosomes interchanged with an oath,
¶Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny,
¶For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye.
¶Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
¶But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie
¶Lie further off, in humane modesty,
¶Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide,
¶Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end.
715And then end life, when I end loyalty:
¶
Enter Pucke.
They sleepe.
720But Athenian finde I none,
¶One whose eyes I might approue
¶This flowers force in stirring loue.
¶Night and silence: who is heere?
¶Weedes of Athens he doth weare:
¶On the danke and durty ground.
730Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie.
¶Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw
¶All the power this charme doth owe:
¶When thou wak'st, let loue forbid
¶Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid.
735So awake when I am gone:
¶For I must now to Oberon.
Exit.
¶
Enter Demetrius and Helena running.
¶De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus.
¶De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.
¶
Exit Demetrius.
¶No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare;
750For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare,
¶Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius
¶Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne?
755But who is here? Lysander on the ground;
¶Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word
¶What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though?
765Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content.
¶Lys. Content with Hermia? No, I do repent
¶The tedious minutes I with her haue spent.
¶Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue;
¶Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue?
¶So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason,
¶And touching now the point of humane skill,
¶And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke
¶Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne?
¶That I did neuer, no nor neuer can,
¶Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do)
¶Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd,
¶Should of another therefore be abus'd.
Exit.
¶Or as the heresies that men do leaue,
¶Of all be hated; but the most of me;
¶To honour Helen, and to be her Knight.
Exit.
¶Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here?
¶Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare:
¶Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away,
¶What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word?
¶Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare:
810No, then I well perceiue you are not nye,
¶Either death or you Ile finde immediately.
Exit.
¶
Actus Tertius.
¶
Enter the Clownes.
815Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient
¶do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
¶Bot. Peter quince?
¶Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and
¶How answere you that?
825Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare.
¶all is done.
¶Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well.
830we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus
¶tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the
¶Weauer; this will put them out of feare.
835be written in eight and sixe.
¶Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight
¶and eight.
¶Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon?
¶dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde
¶foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke
¶to it.
¶a Lyon.
850Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would
¶request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to
¶tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither
¶as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such
¶thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let
855him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the
¶ioyner.
¶things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a cham-
¶ber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moone-
860light.
¶play?
¶Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack,
865
Enter Pucke.
¶chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone
875chinke of a wall.
¶Bottome?
¶gers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and
¶Thisby whisper.
¶enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his
¶cue.
¶
Enter Robin.
890ring here,
¶So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene?
¶What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor,
¶So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare.
¶But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while,
900And by and by I will to thee appeare.
Exit. Pir.
905gaine.
¶Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer,
910Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe.
¶your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is
¶past; it is neuer tyre.
¶tyre:
¶Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine.
920
The Clownes all Exit.
925And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne,
¶Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne.
Exit.
¶
Enter Piramus with the Asse head.
¶them to make me afeard.
Enter Snowt.
¶thee?
¶owne, do you?
¶
Enter Peter Quince.
¶ted.
Exit.
¶to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from
¶this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe
¶fraid
.
¶The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew,
¶With Orenge-tawny bill.
945The Wren and little quill.
¶Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed?
¶Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke,
¶The plainsong Cuckow gray;
¶Whose note full many a man doth marke,
950And dares not answere, nay.
¶For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
¶Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
¶neuer so?
955Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;
¶So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
¶And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me.
¶loue keepe little company together, now-adayes.
¶not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occa-
¶sion.
¶out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne
¶turne.
970Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no.
¶I am a spirit of no common rate:
¶And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me,
¶Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee;
975And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe,
¶
Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustard-
980seede, and foure Fairies.
¶Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies,
¶Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries,
985With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries,
¶The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees,
¶And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes,
¶And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes,
¶To haue my loue to bed, and to arise:
990And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies,
¶To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies.
¶Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies.
¶2. Fai. Haile.
9953. Fai. Haile.
¶your worships name.
¶Cob. Cobweb.
¶with you.
¶Your name honest Gentleman?
¶ence well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe
¶mise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere
¶The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie,
¶And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower,
1020Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently.
Exit.
¶
Enter King of Pharies, solus.
¶Then what it was that next came in her eye,
1025
Enter Pucke.
¶What night-rule now about this gaunted groue?
¶A crew of patches, rude Mcehanicals,
¶That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals,
¶Were met together to rehearse a Play,
¶Intended for great Thesevs nuptiall day:
¶Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake,
¶When I did him at this aduantage take,
¶And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie,
¶As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye,
¶(Rising and cawing at the guns report)
¶So at his sight, away his fellowes flye,
¶And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals;
¶He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals.
¶For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch,
¶I led them on in this distracted feare,
¶But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes,
¶With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe?
¶And the Athenian woman by his side,
¶
Enter Demetrius and Hermia.
1065Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man.
¶Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
¶Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill
¶me too:
¶The Sunne was not so true vnto the day,
¶As he to me. Would he haue stollen away,
¶This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone
¶Her brothers noonetide, with th' Antipodes.
¶It cannot be but thou hast murdred him,
¶Yet you the murderer looks as bright as cleare,
¶As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare.
¶Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me?
1090Henceforth be neuer numbred among men.
¶Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake,
¶Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake?
¶Could not a worme, an Adder do so much?
1095An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue
¶I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood:
¶Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell.
1100Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well.
¶Whether he be dead or no.
Exit.
1105Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine,
¶Here therefore for a while I will remaine.
Lie downe.
¶Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
1115Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth,
¶A million faile, confounding oath on oath.
¶And Helena of Athens looke thou finde.
¶Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe,
¶Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe.
Exit.
1125Ob. Flower of this purple die,
¶Hit with Cupids archery,
¶Sinke in apple of his eye,
¶When his loue he doth espie,
1130As the Venus of the sky.
¶Beg of her for remedy.
¶
Enter Pucke.
¶Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band,
1135Helena is heere at hand,
¶And the youth, mistooke by me,
¶Pleading for a Louers fee.
¶Shall we their fond Pageant see?
¶Lord, what fooles these mortals be!
¶Will cause Demetrius to awake.
¶Puck. Then will two at once wooe one,
¶
Enter Lysander and Helena.
¶Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares:
¶Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne,
1150In their natiuity all truth appeares.
¶Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true.
¶Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more,
¶When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray!
1155These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore?
¶Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh.
¶Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales)
¶Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales.
1160Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore.
¶To what my, loue, shall I compare thine eyne!
¶That pure congealed white, high Taurvs snow,
¶Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,
¶If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,
¶You would not doe me thus much iniury.
¶Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
¶If you are men, as men you are in show,
¶When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
1180You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
¶And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.
¶A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,
¶To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes,
1185Would so offend a Virgin, and extort
¶For you loue Hermia; this you know I know;
¶And here with all good will, with all my heart,
1190In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part;
¶And yours of Helena, to me bequeath,
¶Whom I do loue, and will do to my death.
1195If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone.
¶And now to Helen it is home return'd,
¶There to remaine.
¶Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare.
¶Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare.
¶
Enter Hermia.
¶Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
1205The eare more quicke of apprehension makes,
¶It paies the hearing double recompence.
¶Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found,
¶Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound.
¶Faire Helena; who more engilds the night,
1215Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light.
¶The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so?
1220Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three,
¶Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid,
¶To baite me, with this foule derision?
¶When wee haue chid the hasty footed time,
¶For parting vs; O, is all forgot?
1230We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods,
¶Haue with our needles, created both one flower,
¶Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
¶As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes
1235Had beene incorporate. So we grew together,
¶Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
¶But yet a vnion in partition,
¶Two louely berries molded on one stem,
¶So with two seeming bodies, but one heart,
1240Two of the first life coats in Heraldry,
¶Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
¶And will you rent our ancient loue asunder,
¶To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend?
¶It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.
1245Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it,
¶Though I alone doe feele the iniurie.
1250To follow me, and praise my eies and face?
¶And made your other loue, Demetrius
¶(Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote)
1255To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
¶And tender me (forsooth) affection,
¶What though I be not so in grace as you,
1260So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate?
1265Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe,
¶If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners,
¶You would not make me such an argument:
1270But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault,
¶My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena.
¶Hel. O excellent!
¶Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe;
¶Dem. Quick, come.
¶Lys. Away, you Ethiope.
¶Take on as you would follow,
¶But yet come not: you are a tame man, go.
¶What change is this sweete Loue?
¶Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out;
1295Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence.
¶Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee.
¶Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue
1300A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word.
¶Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so.
¶Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate?
¶Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue?
1305Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
¶I am as faire now, as I was ere while.
¶Since night you lou'dme; yet since night you left me.
¶Why then you left me (O the gods forbid
1310Lys. I, by my life;
¶Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
¶Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,
¶That I doe hate thee, and loue Helena.
¶You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
¶And stolne my loues heart from him?
¶Hel. Fine yfaith:
¶Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
¶Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you.
¶Now I perceiue that she hath made compare
1330How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake,
¶How low am I? I am not yet so low,
¶But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes.
¶Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen,
¶Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst:
¶I am a right maide for my cowardize;
¶Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke,
¶That I can match her.
1340Her. Lower? harke againe.
¶I euermore did loue you Hermia,
¶Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you,
¶Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius,
1345I told him of your stealth vnto this wood.
¶He followed you, for loue I followed him,
¶But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me
¶And now, so you will let me quiet go,
1350To Athens will I beare my folly backe,
¶And follow you no further. Let me go.
¶Her. With Demetrius.
¶Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little?
¶Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
¶Let me come to her.
1365Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe,
¶You bead, you acorne.
¶Dem. You are too officious,
1370Let her alone, speake not of Helena,
¶Take not her part. For if thou dost intend
¶Thou shalt abide it.
¶Of thine or mine is most in Helena.
¶Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by
¶iowle.
Exit Lysander and Demetrius.
1380Nay, goe not backe.
¶Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray,
¶My legs are longer though to runne away.
1385
Enter Oberon and Pucke.
¶Did not you tell me, I should know the man,
1390By the Athenian garments he hath on?
¶That I haue nointed an Athenians eies,
¶Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night,
¶The starrie Welkin couer thou anon,
¶With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron,
1400As one come not within anothers way.
¶Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong;
¶And sometime raile thou like Demetrius;
¶And from each other looke thou leade them thus,
1405Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe
¶With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe:
¶Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie,
¶To take from thence all error, with his might,
1410And make his eie-bals role with wonted sight.
¶When they next wake, all this derision
¶And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend
1415Whiles I in this affaire do thee imply,
¶Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy;
¶And then I will her charmed eie release
¶And yonder shines Auroras harbinger;
¶Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all,
1425Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone;
¶They wilfully themselues dxile from light,
1430I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport,
¶And like a Forrester, the groues may tread,
¶Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red,
¶Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade
¶them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne.
¶Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one.
1440
Enter Lysander.
¶Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius?
¶Speake thou now.
¶Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou?
1445Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground.
¶
Enter Demetrius.
¶Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
¶And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe,
¶Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
¶That drawes a sword on thee.
1455Dem. Yea, art thou there?
¶When I come where he cals, then he's gone.
¶The villaine is much lighter heel'd then I:
¶That fallen am I in darke vneuen way,
¶For if but once thou shew me thy gray light,
¶Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight.
1465
Enter Robin and Demetrius.
1470Where art thou?
¶Rob. Come hither, I am here.
¶deere,
¶If euer I thy face by day-light see.
¶To measure out my length on this cold bed,
¶By daies approach looke to be visited.
¶
Enter Helena.
¶Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
¶That I may backe to Athens by day-light,
¶Steale me a while from mine owne companie.
Sleepe.
1485Rob. Yet but three? Come one more,
¶Two of both kindes makes vp foure.
¶Cupid is a knauish lad,
¶
Enter Hermia.
1490Thus to make poore females mad.
¶Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars,
¶I can no further crawle, no further goe;
¶My legs can keepe no pace with my desires.
1495Here will I rest me till the breake of day,
¶Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy.
1500True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye,
¶And the Country Prouerb knowne,
¶That euery man should take his owne,
¶well.
¶
They sleepe all the Act.
¶
Actus Quartus.
¶
Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the
1510_King behinde them.
¶While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy,
¶Peas. Ready.
¶sieuer Cobweb.
¶Cob. Ready.
¶weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee,
¶the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the
1525hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue yon ouer-
¶Mus. Ready.
¶Mus. What's your will?
¶me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I
¶scratch.
¶loue.
1540vs haue the tongs and the bones.
¶
Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.
¶Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch
¶your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire
¶low.
¶And fetch thee new Nuts.
¶Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away.
¶Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme.
¶O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee!
¶
Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.
1560Ob. Welcome good Robin:
¶Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty.
¶For meeting her of late behinde the wood,
1565I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her.
¶For she his hairy temples then had rounded,
¶With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers.
¶Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles;
1570Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes,
¶Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile.
¶When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
¶And she in milde termes beg'd my patience,
¶I then did aske of her, her changeling childe,
¶To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land.
¶And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe
¶This hatefull imperfection of her eyes.
1580From off the head of this Athenian swaine;
¶That he awaking when the other doe,
¶May all to Athens backe againe repaire,
¶And thinke no more of this nights accidents,
¶But as the fierce vexation of a dreame.
¶Be thou as thou wast wont to be;
1590Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene.
¶Ob. There lies your loue.
1595Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now!
¶Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head:
1600
Musick still.
¶_peepe
1605Now thou and I new in amity,
¶And will to morrow midnight, solemnly
¶There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be
1610Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity.
¶Rob. Faire King attend, and marke,
¶I doe heare the morning Larke.
¶Trip we after the nights shade;
¶Swifter then the wandering Moone.
¶Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight,
¶Tell me how it came this night,
¶That I sleeping heere was found,
1620
Sleepers Lye still.
¶With these mortals on the ground.
Exeunt.
¶
Winde Hornes.
¶
Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.
1625For now our obseruation is perform'd;
¶And since we haue the vaward of the day,
¶Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe;
1630We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountaines top,
¶Of hounds and eccho in coniunction.
¶Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once.
¶When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare
1635With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare
¶Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues,
¶The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere,
¶Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard
1640Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde,
¶With eares that sweepe away the morning dew,
¶Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels,
1645Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable
¶Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne,
1650And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
¶This Helena, olde Nedars Helena,
¶I wonder of this being heere together.
¶The right of May; and hearing our intent,
1655Came heere in grace of our solemnity.
¶But speake Egeus, is not this the day
¶Egeus. It is, my Lord.
¶Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their
1660hornes.
¶
Hornes and they wake.
¶
Shout within, they all start vp.
¶Begin these wood birds but to couple now?
1665Lys. Pardon my Lord.
¶I know you two are Riuall enemies.
¶How comes this gentle concord in the world,
1670To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity.
¶I cannot truly say how I came heere.
¶But as I thinke (for truly would I speake)
1675And now I doe bethinke me, so it is;
¶I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
¶Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be
¶Without the perill of the Athenian Law.
¶Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough;
1680I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head:
¶They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius,
¶Thereby to haue defeated you and me:
¶You of your wife, and me of my consent;
¶Of this their purpose hither, to this wood,
¶And I in furie hither followed them;
¶Faire Helena, in fancy followed me.
¶But my good Lord, I wot not by what power,
1690(But by some power it is) my loue
¶To Hermia (melted as the snow)
¶Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude,
¶Which in my childehood I did doat vpon:
¶And all the faith, the vertue of my heart,
1695The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye,
¶Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord,
¶Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia,
¶But as in health, come to my naturall taste,
1700Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it,
¶And will for euermore be true to it.
¶Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met;
¶Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will;
1705For in the Temple, by and by with vs,
¶And for the morning now is something worne,
¶Away, with vs to Athens; three and three,
¶Come Hippolita.
Exit Duke and Lords.
¶Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds.
1715When euery things seemes double.
¶Hel. So me-thinkes:
¶And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell,
¶Mine owne, and not mine owne.
1720That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke,
¶The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him?
¶Her. Yea, and my Father.
¶Hel. And Hippolita.
¶Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple.
1725Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and
¶by the way let vs recount our dreames.
¶
Bottome wakes.
Exit Louers.
¶My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince?
1730Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starue-
¶ling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I
¶if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I
1735was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was,
¶and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole,
¶if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of
¶man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans
¶hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his
1740heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter
¶Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called
¶Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will
1745at her death.
Exit.
¶
Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.
¶home yet?
¶Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is
1750transported.
¶This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes
¶not forward, doth it?
¶Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he.
¶craft man in Athens.
¶Paramour, for a sweet voyce.
¶
Enter Snug the Ioyner.
¶ple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more mar-
¶ried. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made
1765men.
¶pence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence
¶a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue
1770deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing.
¶
Enter Bottome.
¶pie houre!
¶not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
¶will tell you euery thing as it fell out.
¶Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that
1780the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good
¶strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps,
¶meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his
¶part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred:
¶In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him
1785that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang
¶out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate
¶no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete
¶breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a
¶sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.
1790
Exeunt.
¶
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.
¶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.
¶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.
¶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.
¶Thinke but this (and all is mended)
¶That you haue but slumbred heere,
¶And this weake and idle theame,
¶No more yeelding but a dreame,
¶Centles, doe not reprehend.
¶If you pardon, we will mend.
2215And as I am an honest Pucke,
¶If we haue vnearned lucke,
¶Now to scape the Serpents tongue,
¶We will make amends ere long:
¶Else the Pucke a lyar call.
2220So good night vnto you all.
¶Giue me your hands, if we be friends,
¶FINIS.
