that the duke hath dined. Get your 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: away! go; away! [Exeunt.

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

The. More strange than true: I never may believe These antic 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 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 suppos'd 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.

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA. Joy, gentle friends; joy, and fresh days of love, Accompany your hearts!

Lys.
More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
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? What mask? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Philost. There is a brief how many sports are ripe; Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper. The. [Reads.] "The battle with the Centaurs, to be

"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 seething snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
Philost. A play this 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 labour'd 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 pain,
To do you service.
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'ercharg'd,
And duty in his service perishing.
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 addrest.
The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.
Enter the 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, 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." The. This fellow doth not stand upon his 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 impair'd, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter the PRESENTER, PYRAMUS, and THISBE, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion, as in dumb show.

Pres. "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 Thisby is, certain. This man, with lime and rough-cast, 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 Thisby, 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 gentle Thisby's mantle slain :
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
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 PRES., 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 befal,
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, hole, or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.

This lime, this rough-cast, 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."
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Enter PYRAMUS.

Pyr. "O, grim-look'd 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 Thisby's promise is forgot.And thou, O wall! O sweet, O lovely wall!

That stand'st 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 Thisby do I see.

O wicked wall! through whom I see no bliss;
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!'
The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should
curse again.

Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not.-" Deceiving me," is Thisby'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 THISBE.

This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me:

My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones;

Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee."
Pyr. "I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby!"

This. "My love! thou art my love, I think."
Pyr. "Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
And like Limander am I trusty still."

This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill."
Pyr. "Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true."
This. "As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."
Pyr. "O! kiss me through the hole of this vile wall."
This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all."
Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straight-
way?"

This. ""Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay." Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go."

[Exeunt Wall, PYRAMUS, and THISBE. The. Now is the wall down between the two neighbours.

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

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that e'er I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. 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 Lion and Moonshine. 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, one Snug the joiner, am A lion's fell, nor else no lion's dam: For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity on your life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. True; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose.

The. 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. Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present;" Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is not crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i'the moon do seem to be."

The

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

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

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

The. 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.

Lys. Proceed, moon.

Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Enter THISBE.

This. "This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?" Lion. "Oh-." [The Lion roars.-THISBE runs off. Dem. Well roared, lion.

Pyr. "Sweetmoon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright,
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.

But stay;-0 spite! [Seeing THISBE's mantle.
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! stain'd with blood?

Approach, ye furies fell!

O fates! come, come;

Cut thread and thrum;

Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!"

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

Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. "O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame, Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear? Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The of Pyramus: pap

Ay, that left pap,

Where heart doth hop:Thus die I, thus, thus, thus!

Now am I dead,

Now am I fled;

My soul is in the sky:

Tongue, lose thy light!

[Dies.

Now die, die, die, die, die." Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man, for he is dead; he is nothing.

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

Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

The. She will find him by starlight.-Here she comes, and her passion ends the play. Enter THISBE.

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

Dem. 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.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.This. " Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove?

O Pyramus! arise:

Speak, speak! Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
This lily lip,

This cherry tip,
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 :

And farewell, friends.

Thus Thisby ends:

Adieu, adieu, adieu."

[Dies.

The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too.

Bot. 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?

The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse, for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd 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.

[4 dance.

Moon, take thy flight! [Exit Moonshine.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Enter Puck, with a broom on his shoulder. 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 church-way 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 hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train. Obe. Through the house give glimmering light, By the dead and drowsy fire;

Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty after me

Sing, and dance it trippingly.

Tita. 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.

THE SONG.

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, hare-lip, 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;
Ever shall it safely rest,

And the owner of it blest.
Trip away; make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train.

Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd 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'm 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.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.
Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.
It wearies me: you say, it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream,
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks,
And, in a word, but even now worth this,

And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad?
But, tell not me: I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandise.

Ant. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad. Salan. Why, then you are in love. Ant.

Fie, fie! Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad,

Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kins-

man,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well:
We leave you now with better company.

Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not prevented me.

Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.

I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.

Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO.