A Midsummer Night's Dream

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Original text
Act V, Scene I
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

Hip.
'Tis strange my Theseus, yt these louers speake of.

The.
More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue
These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes,
Louers and mad men haue such seething braines,
Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend
more / Then coole reason euer comprehends.
The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold;
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 / From 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,
That if it would but apprehend some ioy,
It comprehends some bringer of that ioy.
Or in the night, imagining some feare,
Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare?

Hip.
But all the storie of the night told ouer,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancies images,
And growes to something of great constancie;
But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable.
Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and
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, your boord, your bed.

The.
Come now, what maskes, what dances shall we haue,
To weare away this long age of three houres,
Between our after supper, and bed-time?
Where is our vsuall manager of mirth?
What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing houre?
Call Egeus.

Ege.
Heere mighty Theseus.

The.
Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening?
What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile
The lazie time, if not with some delight?

Ege.

There is a breefe how many sports are rife:
Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first.

Lis.
The battell with the Centaurs to be sung
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.
Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals,
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.
Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death
of learning, late deceast in beggerie.
The. That is some Satire keene and criticall,
Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie.
Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus,
And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth.
The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe?
That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow.
How shall wee finde the concord of this discord?

Ege.
A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long,
Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play;
But 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 / Therein doth kill himselfe.
Which when I saw / Rehearst, I must confesse,
made mine eyes water: / But more merrie teares,
the passion of loud laughter / Neuer shed.

Thes.
What are they that do play it?

Ege.
Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere,
Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now;
And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptiall.

The.
And we will heare it.

Phi.
No my noble Lord,
it is not for you. I haue heard / It ouer,
and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnlesse you can finde sport in their intents,
Extreamely stretcht, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you seruice.

Thes.
I will heare that play.
For neuer any thing / Can be amisse,
when simplenesse and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.

Hip.
I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;
And duty in his seruice perishing.

Thes.
Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

Hip.
He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde.

Thes.
The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,
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
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
In least, speake most, to my capacity.


Egeus.
So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest.

Duke.
Let him approach.
Flor. Trum.
Enter the Prologue. Quince.

Pro.
If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despight.
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,
You shall know all, that you are like to know.

Thes.
This fellow doth not stand vpon points.

Lys.
He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he
knowes not the stop. A good morall my Lord. It is not
enough to speake, but to speake true.

Hip.
Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a
childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment.

Thes.
His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
Enter Pyramus and Thisby,
Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.

Prol.
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:
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,
Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,
By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,
Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Whereat, 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,
At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Exit all but Wall.

Thes.
I wonder if the Lion be to speake.

Deme.
No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe. Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.

Wall.
In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,
That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearefull Louers are to whisper.

Thes.
Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake better?

Deme.
It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard
discourse, my Lord.
Enter Pyramus.

Thes.
Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.

Pir.
O grim lookt night, ô night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, ô night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
And thou ô wall, thou sweet and louely wall,
That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
Thou wall, ô wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.

Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee.

Thes.
The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should curse
againe.

Pir.
No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me, / Is
Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy / Her
through the wall. You shall see it will fall. / Pat as I told
you; yonder she comes.
Enter Thisbie.

This.
O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me.
My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;
Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee.

Pyra.
I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,
To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face.
Thisbie?

This.
My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke.

Pir.
Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still.

This.
And like Helen till the Fates me kill.

Pir.
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

This.
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Pir.
O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall.

This.
I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all.

Pir.
Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight way?

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


Wall.
Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so;
And being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit Clow.

Du.
Now is the morall downe between the two
Neighbors.

Dem.
No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull,
to heare without warning.

Dut.
This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard.

Du.
The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Dut.
It must be your imagination then, & not
theirs.

Duk.
If wee imagine no worse of them then they of
themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com
two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion.
Enter Lyon and Moone-shine.

Lyon.
You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare
The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore)
May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere,
When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare.
Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am
A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam:
For if I should as Lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life.

Du.
A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience.

Dem.
The verie best at a beast, my Lord, ytere I
saw.

Lis.
This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor.

Du.
True, and a Goose for his discretion.

Dem.
Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie
his discretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.

Du.
His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his
valor: for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue
it to his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone.

Moone.
This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present.

De.
He should haue worne the hornes on his head.

Du.
Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible,
within the circumference.

Moon.
This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present:
My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be.

Du.
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man
i'th Moone?

Dem.
He dares not come there for the candle. For
you see, it is already in snuffe.

Dut.
I am wearie of this Moone; would he would change.



Du.
It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that
he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we
must stay the time.

Lys.
Proceed Moone.

Moon.
All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the
Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne
bush, my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem.
Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for
they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby.
Enter Thisby.

This.
This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue?

Lyon.
Oh.
The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.

Dem.
Well roar'd Lion.

Du.
Well run Thisby.

Dut.
Well shone Moone. / Truly the Moone shines
with a good grace.


Du.
Wel mouz'd Lion.

Dem.
And then came Piramus.

Lys.
And so the Lion vanisht.
Enter Piramus.

Pyr.
Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames,
I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright:
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames,
I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight.
But stay: O spight!
but marke, poore Knight,
What dreadful dole is heere?
Eyes 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,
Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell.

Du.
This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Would go neere to make a man looke sad.

Dut.
Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man.

Pir.
O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Since 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:
I, that left pap,
where heart doth hop;
Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
now am I fled,
my soule is in the sky,
Tongue lose thy light,
Moone take thy flight,


Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye.

Dem.
No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.

Lis.
Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is
nothing.

Du.
With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer,
and proue an Asse.

Dut.
How chance Moone-shine is gone before?
Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer.

Duke.
She wil finde him by starre-light. / Heere she comes,
and her passion ends the play.
Enter Thisby.

Dut.
Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for
such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe.

Dem.
A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus
which Thisby is the better.

Lys.
She hath spyed him already, with those sweete
eyes.

Dem.
And thus she meanes, videlicit.

This.
Asleepe my Loue?
What, dead my Doue?
O Piramus arise:
Speake, Speake. Quite dumbe?
Dead, dead? A tombe
Must couer thy sweet eyes.
These Lilly Lips,
this cherry nose,
These yellow Cowslip cheekes
Are gone, are gone:
Louers make mone:
His eyes were greene as Leekes.
O sisters three,
come, come to mee,
With hands as pale as Milke,
Lay them in gore,
since you haue shore
With sheeres, his thred of silke.
Tongue not a word:
Come trusty sword:
Come blade, my brest imbrue:


And farwell friends,
thus Thisbie ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu.



Duk.
Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead.

Deme.
I, and Wall too.

Bot.


No, I assure you, the wall is downe,
that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the
Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of
our company?

Duk.
No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead,
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.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue.
Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time.
I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne,
As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht.
This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd
The 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,
And the Wolfe beholds the Moone:
Whilest the heauy ploughman snores,
All with weary taske fore-done.
Now the wasted brands doe glow,
Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud,
Puts 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,
In the Church-way paths to glide,
And we Fairies, that do runne,
By the triple Hecates teame,
From the presence of the Sunne,
Following darkenesse like a dreame,
Now are frollicke; not a Mouse
Shall disturbe this hallowed house.
I am sent with broome before,
To sweep the dust behinde the doore.
Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.

Ob.
Through the house giue glimmering light,
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.

Tita.
First rehearse this song by roate,
To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with Fairie grace,
Will we sing and blesse this place.
The Song.
Now vntill the breake of day,
Through this house each Fairy stray.
To the best Bride-bed will we,
Which by vs shall blessed be:
And the issue there create,
Euer shall be fortunate:
So shall all the couples three,
Euer true in louing be:
And the blots of Natures hand,
Shall not in their issue stand.
Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre,
Nor marke prodigious, such as are
Despised in Natiuitie,
Shall vpon their children be.
With this field dew consecrate,
Euery Fairy take his gate,
And each seuerall chamber blesse,
Through this Pallace with sweet peace,
And the owner of it blest.
Euer shall in safety rest,
Trip away, make no stay;
Meet me all by breake of day.

Robin.
If we shadowes haue offended,
Thinke but this (and all is mended)
That you haue but slumbred heere,
While these visions did appeare.
And this weake and idle theame,
No more yeelding but a dreame,
Centles, doe not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And 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.
So good night vnto you all.
Giue me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
Modern text
Act V, Scene I
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords, and
Attendants

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

THESEUS
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 lunatic, 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 frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in 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?

HIPPOLYTA
But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
Enter the lovers: Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and
Helena

THESEUS
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts.

LYSANDER
More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed.

THESEUS
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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.

PHILOSTRATE
Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What masque, what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE
(giving a paper)
There is a brief how many sports are ripe.
Make choice of which your highness will see first.

THESEUS
The Battle with the Centaurs, ‘ to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.’
We'll none of that. That have I told my love
In glory of my kinsman, Hercules.
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device, and it was played
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceased in beggary.
That is some satire keen and critical,
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 wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

PHILOSTRATE
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,
Which makes it ‘ tedious.’ For in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And ‘ tragical ’, my noble lord, it is,
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself,
Which when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water: but more ‘ merry ’ tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

THESEUS
What are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE
Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never laboured in their minds till now,
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories
With this same play against your nuptial.

THESEUS
And we will hear it.

PHILOSTRATE
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 stretched, and conned with cruel pain,
To do you service.

THESEUS
I will hear that play,
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go bring them in; and take your places, ladies.
Exit Philostrate

HIPPOLYTA
I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.

THESEUS
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

HIPPOLYTA
He says they can do nothing in this kind.

THESEUS
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 purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes,
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised 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 picked 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

PHILOSTRATE
So please your grace, the Prologue is addressed.

THESEUS
Let him approach.
Flourish of trumpets
Enter Quince as Prologue

QUINCE
If we offend it is with our good will.
That you should think we come not to offend
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then we come but in despite.
We do not come as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you
The actors are at hand, and by their show
You shall know all that you are like to know.

THESEUS
This fellow doth not stand upon points.

LYSANDER
He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he
knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not
enough to speak, but to speak true.

HIPPOLYTA
Indeed, he hath played on his prologue like a
child on a recorder – a sound, but not in government.

THESEUS
His speech was like a tangled chain: nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter Bottom as Pyramus, Flute as Thisbe, Snout as
Wall, Starveling as Moonshine, and Snug as Lion;
a trumpeter before them

QUINCE
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisbe is, certain.
This man with lime and roughcast doth present
Wall – that vile wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn
Presenteth Moonshine. For if you will know
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast – which Lion hight by name –
The trusty Thisbe 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 Thisbe's mantle slain.
Whereat with blade – with bloody, blameful blade –
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast.
And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain
At large discourse while here they do remain.
Exeunt Quince, Bottom, Flute, Snug, and Starveling

THESEUS
I wonder if the lion be to speak.

DEMETRIUS
No wonder, my lord – one lion may, when many asses do.

SNOUT as Wall
In this same interlude it doth befall
That I – one Snout by name – present a wall.
And such a wall as I would have you think
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe,
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loam, this roughcast, 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.

THESEUS
Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

DEMETRIUS
It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.
Enter Bottom as Pyramus

THESEUS
Pyramus draws near the wall. Silence!

BOTTOM as Pyramus
O grim-looked night, O night with hue so black,
O night which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisbe's promise is forgot.
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That standest 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.
But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss:
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

THESEUS
The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse
again.

BOTTOM
No, in truth sir, he should not. ‘Deceiving me' is
Thisbe's cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her
through the wall. You shall see – it will fall pat as I told
you. Yonder she comes.
Enter Flute as Thisbe

FLUTE as Thisbe
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans
For parting my fair Pyramus and me.
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

BOTTOM as Pyramus
I see a voice. Now will I to the chink
To spy an I can hear my Thisbe's face.
Thisbe!

FLUTE as Thisbe
My love! Thou art my love, I think?

BOTTOM as Pyramus
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still.

FLUTE as Thisbe
And I like Helen till the Fates me kill.

BOTTOM as Pyramus
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

FLUTE as Thisbe
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

BOTTOM as Pyramus
O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

FLUTE as Thisbe
I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

BOTTOM as Pyramus
Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?

FLUTE as Thisbe
Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
Exeunt Bottom and Flute

SNOUT as Wall
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit

THESEUS
Now is the mural down between the two
neighbours.

DEMETRIUS
No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful
to hear without warning.

HIPPOLYTA
This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

THESEUS
The best in this kind are but shadows; and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

HIPPOLYTA
It must be your imagination then, and not
theirs.

THESEUS
If we imagine no worse of them than they of
themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come
two noble beasts in: a man and a lion.
Enter Snug as Lion and Starveling as Moonshine

SNUG as 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 as Snug the joiner am
A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam,
For if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.

THESEUS
A very gentle beast, of a good conscience.

DEMETRIUS
The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I.
saw.

LYSANDER
This lion is a very fox for his valour.

THESEUS
True; and a goose for his discretion.

DEMETRIUS
Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry
his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

THESEUS
His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his
valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave
it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

STARVELING as Moonshine
This lanthorn doth the horned moon present.

DEMETRIUS
He should have worn the horns on his head.

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

STARVELING as Moonshine
This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the man i'th' moon do seem to be.

THESEUS
This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man
should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the man
i'th' moon?

DEMETRIUS
He dares not come there, for the candle. For,
you see, it is already in snuff.

HIPPOLYTA
I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change.


THESEUS
It appears by his small light of discretion that
he is in the wane. But yet in courtesy, in all reason, we
must stay the time.

LYSANDER
Proceed, Moon.

STARVELING
All that I have to say is to tell you that the
lantern is the moon, I the man i'th' moon, this thorn
bush my thorn bush, and this dog my dog.

DEMETRIUS
Why, all these should be in the lantern; for
all these are in the moon. But, silence: here comes Thisbe.
Enter Flute as Thisbe

FLUTE as Thisbe
This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?

SNUG as Lion
O!
Lion roars. Flute as Thisbe runs off

DEMETRIUS
Well roared, Lion!

THESEUS
Well run, Thisbe!

HIPPOLYTA
Well shone, Moon! Truly, the moon shines
with a good grace.
Lion tears Thisbe's mantle. Exit

THESEUS
Well moused, Lion!

DEMETRIUS
And then came Pyramus.

LYSANDER
And so the lion vanished.
Enter Bottom as Pyramus

BOTTOM as Pyramus
Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;
For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beams
I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight.
But stay – O spite!
But mark, poor Knight,
What dreadful dole is here?
Eyes, do you see? –
How can it be?
O dainty duck, O dear!
Thy mantle good –
What, stained with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell.
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum,
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.

THESEUS
This passion, and the death of a dear friend,
would go near to make a man look sad.

HIPPOLYTA
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

BOTTOM as Pyramus
O wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame,
Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear?
Which is – no, no, which was – the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked 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.
He stabs himself
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky;
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon, take thy flight;
Exit Starveling as Moonshine
Now die, die, die, die, die.
He dies

DEMETRIUS
No die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.

LYSANDER
Less than an ace, man; for he is dead. He is
nothing.

THESEUS
With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover,
and prove an ass.

HIPPOLYTA
How chance Moonshine is gone before
Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

THESEUS
She will find him by starlight. Here she comes;
and her passion ends the play.
Enter Flute as Thisbe

HIPPOLYTA
Methinks she should not use a long one for
such a Pyramus. I hope she will be brief.

DEMETRIUS
A mote will turn the balance which Pyramus,
which Thisbe is the better – he for a man, God warrant
us; she for a woman, God bless us.

LYSANDER
She hath spied him already, with those sweet
eyes.

DEMETRIUS
And thus she means, videlicet:

FLUTE as Thisbe
Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise.
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
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.
She stabs herself
And farewell friends.
Thus Thisbe ends.
Adieu, adieu, adieu!
She dies

THESEUS
Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

DEMETRIUS
Ay, and Wall too.

BOTTOM
(starting up)
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?

THESEUS
No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead,
there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it
had played Pyramus and hanged 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.
A dance. Exeunt Bottom and his fellows
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatched.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity
In nightly revels and new jollity.
Exeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate,
Demetrius, Helena, Lysander, Hermia,
Lords, and Attendants
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 screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
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 churchway paths to glide.
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house.
I am sent with broom before
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter Oberon and Titania, with all their train

OBERON
Through the house give glimmering light
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from briar,
And this ditty after me
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

TITANIA
First rehearse your 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

OBERON
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, harelip, 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 gait,
And each several chamber bless
Through this palace with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blessed
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay.
Meet me all by break of day.
Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and their train

PUCK
(to the audience)
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered 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 am 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.
x

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