L

And when he had bewept, and kist the garment which he knew,
Receive thou my blood too (quoth he); and therewithall he drew
His sword, the which among his guts he thrust, and by and bie
Did draw it from the bleeding wound, beginning for to die,
And cast himselfe upon his backe; the blood did spinne on nie,
As when a conduite pipe is crackt, the water bursting out
Doth shote it selfe a great way off, and pierse the ayre about,
The leaves that were upon the tree besprinkled with his blood,
Were died black. The roote also bestained as it stood,
A deepe dark purple colour straight upon the berries cast.
Anon scarce ridded of her feare with which she was agast,
For doubt of disapoynting him comes Thisbe forth in hast,
And for her lover lookes about, rejoycing for to tell
How hardly she had scapt that night the danger that befell.
And as she knew right well the place and facion of the tree,
(As which she saw so late before:) even so when she did see
The colour of the berries turn'd, she was uncertaine whither
It were the tree at which they both agreed to meet togither.
While in this doubtfull stound she stood, she cast her eye aside,
And there beweltred in his blood hir lover she espide,
Lie sprawling with his dying lims: at which she started backe,
And looked pale as any box, a shuddring through her stracke,
Even like the sea which suddenly with whissing noyse doth move,
When with a little blast of wind it is but toucht above.
But when approching nearer him she knew it was her love,
She beate her brest, she shriked out, she tare her golden heares,
And taking him betweene her armes did wash his woundes with teares
She meynd her weeping with his blood, and kissing all his face,
(Which now became as cold as yse) she cryde in wofull case,
Alas, what chaunce my Pyramus hath parted thee and mee!
Make answere, O my Pyramus; it is thy Thisb. even shee
Whom thou doost love most hartily, that speaketh unto thee,
Give eare and raise thy heavie head. He hearing Thisbes name,
Lift up his dying eyes, and having seene her, closd the same.
But when she knew her mantle there, and saw his scaberd lie
Without the sworde: Unhappy man, thy love hath made thee die:
Thy love (she said) hath made thee slea thyselfe. This hand of mine
Is strong inough to doe the like. My love no lesse than thine
Shall give me force to worke my wound, I will pursue thee dead,
And wretched woman as I am, it shall of me be sed

That like as of thy death I was the onely cause and blame,

So am I thy companion eke and partner in the same.

For death which onely could alas! asunder part us twaine,
Shall never so dissever us but we will meete againe.
And you the parents of us both, most wretched folke alive,
Let this request that I shall make in both our names belive,
Intreate you to permit, that we whom chaste and stedfast love,
And whom even death hath joyned in one, may as it doth behove
In one grave be together layd. And thou, unhappie tree,
Which shouldest now the corse of one, and shalt anon through mee
Shroude two, of this same slaughter hold the sicker sinnes for ay,
Blacke be the colour of thy fruite and mourning like alway,

Such as the murder of us twaine may evermore bewray.

This said, she tooke the sword yet warme with slaughter of her love,

And setting it beneath her brest did to the heart it shove.

Her prayer with the Gods and with their parents tooke effect,
For when the fruite is thoroughly ripe, the berrie is bespect
With colour tending to a blacke. And that which after fire
Remained, rested in one tombe, as Thisbe did desire."

The "Life of Theseus" in North's Plutarch has also been mentioned as one of the sources from which Shakespeare drew some small part of

his material. The only passages that can be cited as illustrating the play are the following:

"And so going on further, in the straits of Peloponnesus he killed another [robber], called Sinnis, surnamed Pityocamtes, that is to say, a wreather or bower of pine-apple trees: whom he put to death in that self cruel manner that Sinnis had slain many other travellers before. This Sinnis had a goodly fair daughter called Perigouna, which fled away when she saw her father slain; whom he followed and sought all about. But she had hidden herself in a grove full of certain kinds of wild pricking rushes called stabe, and wild sperage, which she simply like a child intreated to hide her, as if they had heard, and had sense to understand her: promising them with an oath, that if they saved her from being found, she would never cut them down, nor burn them. Theseus finding her, called her, and sware by his faith he would use her gently, and do her no hurt, nor displeasure at all. Upon which promise she came out of the bush, and bare unto him a goodly boy, which was called Menalippus. . . .

"Furthermore, after he was arrived in Creta, he slew there the Minotaur (as the most part of ancient authors do write) by the means and help of Ariadne: who being fallen in fancy with him, did give him a clue of thread, by the help whereof she taught him, how he might easily wind out of the turnings and crancks of the labyrinth. . . . They report many other things also touching this matter, and specially of Ariadne but there is no troth nor certainty in it. For some say, that Ariadne hung herself for sorrow, when she saw that Theseus had cast her off. Others write, that she was transported by mariners into the ile of Naxos, where she was married unto Enarus the priest of Bacchus: and they think that Theseus left her, because he was in love with another, as by these verses should appear :

Ægles, the nymph, was loved of Theseus,
Who was the daughter of Panopeus. . . .

"Touching the voyage he made by the sea Major, Philochorus, and some other hold opinion, that he went thither with Hercules against the Amazons: and that to honour his valiantness, Hercules gave him Antiopa the Amazon. But the more part of the other historiographers, namely, Hellanicus, Pherecides, and Herodotus, do write, that Theseus went thither alone, after Hercules' voyage, and that he took this Amazon prisoner which is likeliest to be true. For we do not find that any other who went this journey with him, had taken any Amazon prisoner beside himself. Bion also the historiographer, this notwithstanding, saith, that he brought her away by deceit and stealth. For the Amazons (saith he) naturally loving men, did not fly at all when they saw them land in their country, but sent them presents, and that Theseus enticed her to come into his ship, who brought him a present: and so soon as she was aboard, he hoised his sail, and so carried her away. . . . "Now, whether they [the Amazons] came by land from so far a country, or that they passed over an arm of the sea, which is called Bosphorus Cimmericus, being frozen as Hellanicus saith: it is hardly to be credited. But that they camped within the precinct of the very city

itself, the names of the places which continue yet to this present day do witness it, and the graves also of the women which died there. But so it is, that both armies lay a great time one in the face of the other, ere they came to battle. Howbeit at the length Theseus, having first made sacrifice unto Fear the goddess, according to the counsel of a prophecy he had received, he gave them battle in the month of August, on the same day in the which the Athenians do even at this present solemnise the feast which they call Boedromia. . . . Afterwards, at the end of four months, peace was taken between them by means of one of the women called Hippolyta. For this historiographer calleth the Amazon which Theseus married, Hippolyta, and not Antiopa."

Halliwell points out certain "anachronisms" in the play :

"For instance, Theseus marries Hippolyta on the night of the new moon; but how does this agree with the discourse of the clowns (iii. 1. 45-51) at the rehearsal ?

"Again, the period of action is four days, concluding with the night of the new moon. But Hermia and Lysander receive the edict of Theseus four days before the new moon; they fly from Athens to-morrow night; they become the sport of the fairies, along with Helena and Demetrius, during one night only, for Oberon accomplishes all in one night, before the first cock crows;' and the lovers are discovered by Theseus the morning before that which would have rendered this portion of the plot chronologically consistent. For, although Oberon, addressing his queen, says,

'Now thou and I are new in amity;

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly,
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,'

yet Theseus, when he discovers the lovers, asks Egeus,

'is not this the day

That Hermia should give answer of her choice?'

and the answer of Egeus, 'It is, my Lord,' coupled with what Theseus says to Hermia, i. 1. 83 fol.

'Take time to pause; and by the next new moon,' etc.

proves that the action of the remaining part of the play is not intended to consist of two days.

"The preparation and rehearsal of the interlude present similar inconsistencies. In i. 2. 9-55, Quince is the only one who has any knowledge of the most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby,' and he selects actors for Thisby's mother, Pyramus's father, and Thisby's father, none of whom appear in the interlude itself. In iii. I. 73-93, we have the commencement of the play in rehearsal, none of which appears in the piece itself. Again, the play could have been but partially rehearsed once; for Bottom only returns in time to advise 'every man look o'er his part;' and immediately before his companions were lamenting the failure of their 'sport.' How then could the 'merry tears' of Philostrate be shed at its rehearsal ?"

123

"And in the wood where often you and I

Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie" (i. 1. 214).

ACT I.

SCENE I.-The opening lines appear in Fisher's quarto as follows:

"Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall hower

Draws on apase: fower happy daies bring in
An other Moone: but oh, me thinks, how slow

This old Moone waues! She lingers my desires,

Like to a Stepdame, or a dowager,

Long withering out a yong mans reuenewe.

Hip. Fower daies will quickly steepe themselues in night:

Fower nights will quickly dreame away the time:

And then the Moone, like to a siluer bowe,

Now bent in heauen, shall beholde the night

Of our solemnities.

The. Goe Philostrate,

Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
Awake the peart and nimble spirit of mirth,
Turne melancholy foorth to funerals:
The pale companion is not for our pomp.
Hyppolita, 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 reueling."

In the 1st folio they read thus:

"Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how s.ow
This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager,

Long withering out a yong mans reuennew.

Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep theselues in nights
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.

The. Go Philostrate,

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,
Hippolita, 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."

4. Lingers. For the transitive use cf. Rich. II. ii. 2. 72: "Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hope lingers in extremity."

Holinshed has "to linger his businesse." See Gr. 290.

5. Like to a stepdame, etc. Whalley cites Horace (not Ovid, as some eds. give it), Epist. i. 1. 21:

Halliwell quotes speare's:

"Ut piget annus

Pupillis, quos dura premit custodia matrum,
Sic mihi tarda fluunt ingrataque tempora.

Drant's translation (1567), which resembles Shake

"Slow seames the yeare unto the warde
Which houlden downe must be,

In custodie of stepdame straite,

Slowe slydes the time to me."

Dowager, as K. remarks, is here used in the original sense of a widow receiving dower out of the revenue which has descended to the heir with