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I pray you all, stand up.
Lys. My lord, I shall reply
would I speak,
be gone from Athens, where we might be
fair Helen told me of their stealth,
remembrance of an idle
dote upon :
I betroth'd ere I saw Hermin;
it, love it, long for it,
we will hear more anon.-
the morning now is something worn,
hunting shall be set aside.-
[Rxeunt Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, and traina
Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,
Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye,
So methinks :
It seems to me,
Her. Yea; and my father.
Dem. Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him;
As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, Most fair Pyramus. -- Hey, ho!Peter Quince Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker ! Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I hare had a dream, - past the wit of man to say what dream it was - Man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was- there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had, but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death,
SCENE II.-Athens. A Room in Quince's House.
Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and
Out of doubt, he is transported.
Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred; it goes not forward, doth it! Quin. It is not possible:
you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he.
Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens.
Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour, for a sweet voice.
Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of nought.
Enter SNUG. Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.
Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.
Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!
Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders : but ask me not what ; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. 1
every thing, right as it fell out. Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined: Get your apparel together ; good strings to your heards, new
ribbons to your pumps meet presently at the palace ; ferred. In any case, let Thisby part ; for, the short and the every man look o'er his
is, our play is pre
have clean linen ; and shall hang out for the lion's claws.
lion, pare his nails, for they
And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away: 89
SCENE I.-The same.
An Apartment in the Palace of Theseus.
Enter Theseus, HIPPOLYTA,PHILOSTRATE,
Lords, and Attendants.
Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers
I never may believe
Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
in the Paige
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and
More than to us
The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we
Here, mighty Theseus.
Philost. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe ;
(Giving a paper.) The. (Reads.) The battle with the Centaurs, to be
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
T'earing ihe Thracian singer in their rage.
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.
4 tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe : nery tragical mirth.