Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and,

good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior.Thou Where's monsieur Mustard-seed? Must. Ready.

Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

Obe. There lies your love.

Tita. How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now! Obe. Silence, a while.-Robin, take off this head.

Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tita. Music, ho! music; such as charmeth sleep.

Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine

Obe. Sound, music. [Still music.] Come, my queen, take hands with me, [be. And rock the ground whereon those sleepers Now thou and I are new in amity; And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly, Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair posterity: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
Tita. Come, my lord; and, in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I sleeping here was found,
With these mortals on the ground.[Exeunt.
[Horns sound within.

Enter THESEUS, Hippolyta, EgEUS, and

The duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her. Yea; and my father.
Hel. And Hippolyta.

Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow
him;

apparel together; good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. 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: [Exeunt. away; go, away.

ACT V.

Palace of THESEUS.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE,
Lords, and Attendants.

And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. [Exeunt. As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer:-my text is, Most fair Pyramus.Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! Flute, the bellowsmender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a SCENE I.-The same.-An Apartment in the 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. [Exit. SCENE II.—Athens.-A Room in QUINCE'S

House.

Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVE

LING.

Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. 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 hang'd; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter BOTTOM.

Bot. Where are these lads? where are these

hearts?

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. I will tell you 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

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

The. 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 a 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 no-
A local habitation, and a name. [thing
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?

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA,
and HELENA.

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and
mirth.-

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!

[bed!

Lys. More than to us
Wait on your royal walks, your board, your
The. Come now; what masks, what dances

shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after-supper, and bed-time?
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.

Philost. Here, mighty Theseus.
The. Say, what abridgment‡ have you for
this evening?
[guile
What mask? what music? How shall we be-
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philost. There is a brief, how many sports
are ripe;

*Are made of mere imagination.
Pastime.

↑ Stability. Short account.

Make choice of which your highness will see
first.
[Giving a paper.
The. [Reads.] 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 play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd 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?
Philost. 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 rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

The. What are they, that do play it?
Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in
Athens here,

Which never laboured in their minds till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.
The. And we will hear it.
Philost. 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 stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel
To do you service.

[pain,

The. I will hear that play; For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in;--and take your places, ladies. [Exit PHILOSTRATE. Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'erAnd duty in his service perishing. [charg'd, The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this

kind.

The. 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 practis'd 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 pick'd 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.

Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is
↑ Ready.

addrest.†

* Unexercised.

Enter PROLOGUE.

Prol. 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, [you, We are not here. That you should here repent The actors are at hand; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know.

The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lys. 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.

Hip. Indeed, he hath played on this prologue, like a child on a recorder ;* a sound, but not in government.

The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter PYRAMUS and THISBE, WALL, MOON-
SHINE, and LION, as in dumb show.
Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at
this show;
[plain.
"But wonder on, till truth make all things
"This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
"This beauteous lady Thisby is, certáin.
"This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth
present

"Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers

stain:

"Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, "And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain : Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful [breast;

blade, "He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody "And, Thisby 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 PROLOGUE, THISBE, LION, and MOONSHINE.

The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord, one lion may, when many asses do.

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 cranny'd hole, or chink, "Through which the lovers, Pyramus and [Thisby, "Did whisper often very secretly. "This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone doth show, *A musical instrument.

† Called.

"Myself the man i'the moon do seem to be."

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into the lantern: How is it else the man i'the moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the can

dle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.*

Hip. I am weary of this moon: Would, he would change!

lov-tion, that he is in the wane: but yet, in cour The. It appears, by his small light of discretesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.