SCENE I.-Athens. A Room in the Palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attend ants. The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace: four happy days bring in Another moon; but, oh, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves nights; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; Go, Philostrate, This man hath my consent to marry her.- The. Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth: Turn melancholy forth to funerals, The pale companion is not for our pomp.[Exit PHILOSTRATE. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelry. Enter EGEUs, with his daughter HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I; with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia.Stand forth, Demetrius.-My noble lord, To stubborn hardness.-And, my gracious duke, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid. To you your father should be as a god; One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes! The. Rather, your eyes must with his judgment look. Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts; If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; Ege. With duty, and desire, we follow you. [Exeunt THES. HIP. EGE. DEM. and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike, for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes. Lys. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, The course of true love never did run smooth; Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low ! So quick bright things come to confusion. Her. If, then, true lovers have been ever cross'd, The. Take time to pause: and by the next new It stands as an edict in destiny: moon, The sealing-day betwixt my love and me For everlasting bond of fellowship, Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia;-and, Lysander, yield Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, And, which is more than all these boasts can be, Why should not I then prosecute my right? Upon this spotted and inconstant man. The. I must confess, that I have heard so much, My mind did lose it.-But, Demetrius, come; I have some private schooling for you both.— I must employ you in some business Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. Then, let us teach our trial patience, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Lys. A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. Of great revenue, and she hath no child: Her. My good Lysander! By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves, Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away y? Your eyes are lode-stars, and your tongue's sweet air The rest I'll give to be to you translated. go, O! teach me how you look, and with what art Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; O then, what graces in my love must dwell, Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold. Her. And in the wood, where often you and I [Exit HERM. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, [Exit. SCENE II. The Same. A Room in a Cottage. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our inter lude before the duke and duchess on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors, and so go on to appoint. Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move stones; I will condole in some measure. To the rest :-yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "And shivering shocks, "Shall break the locks "Of prison-gates: "And Phibbus' car "Shall shine from far, "And make and mar "The foolish fates." This was lofty!-Now name the rest of the players.This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more Condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman: I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one. You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too. I'll speak in a monstrous little voice:"Thisby, Thisby-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!" Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.-Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father.-Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part;—and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too. I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me: I will roar, that I will make the duke say, "Let him roar again : let him roar again." Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us, every mother's son. the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us, but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove: I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day, a most lovely, gentlemanlike man; therefore, you must needs play Pyramus. Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced.—But masters, here are your parts; and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night, and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light there will we rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Quin. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough, hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-A Wood near Athens. Enter a Fairy and Puck at opposite doors. Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fai. Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Thorough flood, thorough fire, In those freckles live their savours: ACT II. Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night. Take heed, the queen come not within his sight; For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king: She never had so sweet a changeling; And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; But she, perforce, withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove, or green, By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen, But they do square; that all their elves, for fear, Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there. Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Call'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not he, That frights the maidens of the villagery; Skims milk, and sometimes labours in the quern, And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn; And sometimes makes the drink to bear no barm; Misleads night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck. Are not you he? Puck. Fairy, thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, But room, Fairy: here comes Oberon. Fai. And here my mistress.-Would that he were gone! Enter OBERON, from one side, with his train, and Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. I have forsworn his bed and company. Obe. Tarry, rash wanton. Am not I thy lord? Obe. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night And make him with fair Æglé break his faith, Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy : L The ploughman lost his sweat: and the green corn The human mortals want their winter here: Obe. Do you amend it then; it lies in you. Tita. Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay? If you will patiently dance in our round, If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom.-Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Exit TITANIA, with her train. Obe. Well, gothy way: thou shalt not from this grove, Till I torment thee for this injury.My gentle Puck, come hither: thou remember'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music. But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once: Obe. [Exit PUCK. Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: The next thing then she waking looks upon, (Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) She shall pursue it with the soul of love; And ere I take this charm off from her sight, (As I can take it with another herb) I'll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here? I am invisible, And I will over-hear their conference. [Retiring. Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him. Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant ; Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sick when I do look on thee. Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that. Dem. I'll run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. |