The Shakespeare Collection (1978) s01e05 Episode Script

Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour draws on apace.
Four happy days bring in another moon," but, O, 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.
Four days will quickly steep themselves in night.
Four nights will quickly dream away the time.
And then the moon, like to a silver bow new-bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.
Go, Philostrate! 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.
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 revelling.
- Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! - Thanks, good Egeus.
What's the news with thee? Full of vexation come I, with complaint against my child, my daughter Hermia.
My noble Lord, this man, Demetrius, hath my consent to marry her.
And, my gracious duke, this man, Lysander, hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child.
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes and interchang'd love tokens with my child.
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, with feigning voice, verses of feigning Love, and stol'n the impression of her fantasy.
With cunning hast thou fiLch'd my daughter's heart; turned her obedience, which is due to me, to stubborn harshness.
Be it so she will not, here before Your Grace, consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens: As she is mine, I may dispose of her," which shall be either to this gentleman or to her death, according to our Law immediately provided in that case.
What says thou, Hermia? Be advised fair maid: To you your father should be as a god," one that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one to whom you are but as a form in wax, by him imprinted, and within his power to leave the figure or disfigure it.
- Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
- So is Lysander.
In himself he is.
I do entreat Your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold, nor how it may concern my modesty in such a presence here to plead my thoughts," but I beseech Your Grace that I may know the worst that may befall me if I refuse to wed Demetrius.
Either to die the death, or to abjure for ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; know of your youth, examine well your blood, whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, you can endure the Livery of a nun, for aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, to Live a barren sister all your life, chanting faint hymns to the cold, fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, to undergo such maiden pilgrimage," but earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, than that which withering on the virgin thorn grows, Lives and dies in single blessedness.
So will I grow, so live, so die, my Lord, ere I will yield my virgin patent up unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke my soul consents not to give sovereignty.
Take time to pause; and, by the next new 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, or on Diana's altar to protest for aye austerity and single life.
Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield thy crazed title to my certain right.
You have her father's Love, Demetrius; let me have Hermia's.
- Do you marry him.
- Scornful Lysander! True, he hath my love," and what is mine my love shall render him," and she is mine; and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius.
I am, my Lord, as well deriv'd as he, as well possess'd,' my love is more than his," my fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, if not with vantage, as Demetrius'; and, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am beLov'd of beauteous Hermia.
Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, and won her soul," and she, sweet lady, dotes, devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, upon this spotted and inconstant man.
I have heard as much, and with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof, but, being over-full of self-af'fairs, my mind did lose it.
But, Demetrius, come," and come, Egeus; you shall go with me.
I have some private schooling for you both.
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself to fit your fancies to your father's will," or else the Law of Athens yields you up - which by no means we may extenuate - to death or to a vow of single life.
How now, my Love! Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
But, either it was different in blood - O cross! Too high to be enthrall'd to low.
- Or else misgraffed in respect of years - O spite! Too old to be engag'd to young.
- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends.
O hell! To choose love by another's eyes.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, war, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, making it momentary as a sound, swift as a shadow, short as any dream, brief as the lightning in the collied night that ere a man hath power to say "Behold!" the jaws of darkness do devour it up.
So quick bright things come to confusion.
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, it stands as an edict in destiny.
Then let us teach our trial patience, because it is a customary cross, as due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers.
A good persuasion.
Therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager of great revenue, and she hath no child - from Athens is her house remote seven Leagues - and she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; and to that place the sharp Athenian Law cannot pursue us.
If thou loves me then, steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; and in the wood, where I did meet thee once with Helena, to do obsen/ance to a morn of May, there will I stay for thee.
MY good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, by his best arrow, with the golden head, by the simplicity of Venus' doves, by that which knitteth souls and prospers Loves, and by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen when the false Troyan under sail was seen, by all the vows that ever men have broke, in number more than ever women spoke, at that same place thou hast appointed me to-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
God speed, fair Helena! Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair.
O happy fair! Your eyes are Lode-stars, and your tongue's sweet air more tuneable than Lark to shepherd's ear when wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching.
O, were favour so, yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go! My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, my tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, the rest I'd give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look, and with what art you sway the motion of Demetrius' heart.
I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! I give him curses, yet he gives me Love.
O that my prayers could such affection move! The more I hate, the more he follows me.
The more I Love, the more he hateth me.
His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
None, but your beauty," O would that fault were mine.
He no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself shall fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see, seem'd Athens as a paradise to me.
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! Helen, to you our minds we will unfold.
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold her silver visage in the watery glass, decking with Liquid pearl the bladed grass, a time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, through Athens' gates we have devis'd to steal.
In that wood, where you and I on primrose beds were wont to lie, emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, there my Lysander and myself shall meet; and thence, from Athens turn away our eyes, to seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us.
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! How happy some o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so," he will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, so I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste; wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste; and therefore is Love said to be a child, because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, so the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere.
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, he hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; and when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, so he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight.
Then, to the wood will he to-morrow night pursue her," and for this intelligence, if I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, to have his sight thither and back again.
Is all our company here? You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess on his wedding-day at night.
Good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on," then the actors; and so grow to a point.
Marry, our play is "The Most Lamentable Comedy and Most Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby".
A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.
Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll.
Spread yourselves! Answer each.
Nick Bottom, the weaver.
- Name what part I am for, and proceed.
- You are set down for Pyramus.
What is Pyramus? A Lover, or a tyrant? A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
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 storms; I will condole in some measure.
To the rest.
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 Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
- Here, Peter Quince.
- Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
What is Thisby? A wandering knight? It is the lady that Pyramus must Love.
Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.
You shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby.
I'll speak in a monstrous little voice.
- "Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear " - No, no, no.
You must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
Well, proceed.
- Robin Stan/eling, the tailor.
- Here, Peter Quince.
Robin Stan/eling, you must play Thisby's mother.
- And Tom Snout, the tinker.
- Here, Peter Quince.
You Pyramus' father; and myself, Thisby's father.
O and Snug, the joiner, you the Lion's part.
And, I hope, here is a play fitted.
Have you the Lion's part written? If it be, give it me, for I am slow of studying.
You may do it extempore, for it's nothing but roaring.
Let me play the lion too.
I will roar, that I will do any man good to hear me.
I will roar that will make the duke say "Let him roar again!" An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the ladies that they would shriek.
- That were enough to hang us all.
- Every mother's son.
If you should fright the ladies, 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.
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, gentleman-like man.
Therefore, you must needs play Pyramus.
Well, I will undertake it.
Masters, here are your parts.
I am to entreat, request and desire you to con them by to-morrow night," and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight.
There will we rehearse.
If we meet in the city, we will be dogg'd with company, and our devices known.
I will draw a bill of properties such as our play wants.
I pray you, fail me not.
We'll meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously.
Take pains.
Be perfect.
Adieu.
Hold, or cut bow-strings.
How now, spirit! Whither wander you? - Over hill, over dale.
- Thorough bush, thorough brier.
Over park, over pale, thorough flood, thorough fire.
I do wander everywhere, swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, to dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be," in their gold coats spots you see," Those be rubies, fairy favours, in those freckles Live their savours.
I must go seek some dewdrops here, and hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits," I'll be gone.
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.
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, stolen 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.
Either I mistake your shape and making quite, or else you're that shrewd and knavish sprite, Robin Goodfellow.
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 in very Likeness of a roasted crab, and, when she drinks, against her lips I bob and on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, sometimes for three-foot stool mistaketh me," then slip I from her bum, down topples she.
But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon.
I'll met by moonlight, proud Titania.
What? jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence! I have forsworn his bed and company.
Tarry, rash wanton! Am not I thy lord? Then I must be thy Lady.
But I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land, and in the shape of Corin sat all day, playing on pipes of corn, and versing love to amorous Phillida.
Huh! Why art thou here, come from the farthest steep of India, but that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, your buskin'd mistress and your warrior Love, to Theseus must be wedded, and you come to give their bed joy and prosperity? How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, glance at my credit with Hippolyta, knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night from Perigounia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair Aegles break his faith with Ariadne and Antiopa? These are the forgeries of jealousy.
Ah! Never, since the middle summer's spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, by paved fountain or by rushy brook, or in the beached margent of the sea, to dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, but with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the wind, piping to us in vain, as in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea contagious fogs," which, falling in the land, hath every petting river made so proud that they have overborne their continents.
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, the ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; the fold stands empty in the drowned field, and crows are fatted with the murrion flock.
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, and the quaint mazes in the wanton green, for lack of tread, are undistinguishable.
The human mortals want their winter cheer; no night is now with hymn or carol bless'd.
Therefore, the moon, the governess of floods, pale in her anger, washes all the air, that rheumatic diseases do abound.
And thorough this distemperature we see the seasons alter: Hoary-headed frosts fall in the fresh Lap of the crimson rose," and on old Hiems' thin and icy crown an odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds is, as in mockery, set.
The spring, the summer, the childing autumn, angry winter, change their wonted Liveries; and the mazed world, by their increase, knows not now which is which.
And this same progeny of eviLs comes from our debate, from our dissension; we are their parents and original.
Do you amend it then," it Lies in you.
Why should Titania cross her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy, to be my henchman.
Set your heart at rest," the fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a vot'ress of my order.
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night full often hath she gossip'd by my side; and sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, marking th' embarked traders on the flood," where we have laugh'd to see the saiLs conceive, and grow big-bellied with the wanton wind," which she, with pretty and with swimming gait following - her womb then rich with my young squire - would imitate, and sail upon the land, to fetch me trifles, and return again, as from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die.
And for her sake do I rear up her boy," and for her sake I will not part with him.
Give me that boy.
Not for thy fairy kingdom.
Fairies, away! We shall chide downright if I longer stay.
Go thy way! Thou shalt not from this grove till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Puck.
Come hither.
Thou rememb'rest 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 from their spheres to hear the sea-maid's music.
- I remember.
- That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd,' a certain aim he took at a fair vestal throned by the west, and loosed his love-shaf't smartly from his bow, as it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; but I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon," and the imperial vot'ress passed on, in maiden meditation, fancy-free.
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, and maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flower, the herb I showed thee once.
The juice of it on sleepy eye-lids laid will make or man or woman madly dote upon the next Live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again ere the Leviathan can swim a league.
I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes.
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 from off her sight, as I can take it with another herb, I'll make her render up her page to me.
Who comes here? I am invisible," and I will overhear their conference.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? Thou toldst me they were stolen unto this wood.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair? Or rather, do I not in plainest truth tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you? 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.
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, neglect me, lose me," only give me Leave, unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love - and yet a place of high respect with me - than to be used as you use your dog? Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit.
- I am sick when I do look on thee.
- And I am sick when I look not on you.
You do impeach your modesty, to put yourself into the hands of one who loves you not," to trust the night, and ill counsel of a desert place, with the rich worth of your virginity.
Your virtue is my privilege.
For that it is not night when I do see your face, therefore I think I am not in the night.
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, for you, in my respect, are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone when all the world is here to look on me? I will not stay thy questions," let me go," or if thou follow me, I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, you do me mischief.
Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.
We cannot fight for love as men may do," we were not made to woo.
I'll run from thee, and leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts! I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell.
- To die upon the hand I love so well.
- Fare thee well, nymph.
Ere he do leave this grove, thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
Ay, there it is.
I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, quite over-canopied with Luscious woodbine, with sweet musk roses, and with eglantine.
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, luLl'd in these flowers with dances and delight; and there the snake throws her enammeL'd skin, weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, and make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: A sweet Athenian Lady is in Love with a disdainful youth anoint his eyes when the next thing he espies may be the Lady.
Thou shalt know the man by the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may prove more fond on her than she upon her Love.
Sing me now asleep.
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
# You spotted snakes with double tongue # Snakes with double tongue # Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen # Be not seen # Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong # Come not near our fairy queen # Come not near our fairy queen # Our fairy queen # # Philomel with melody Sing in our sweet Lullaby # Lulla, lulla, Lullaby Lulla, lulla, Lullaby # Never harm, nor spell, nor charm Come our Lovely lady nigh # So good night, with Lullaby So good night, with Lullaby # So good night, with Lullaby So good night, with Lullaby # Lullaby, Lullaby # Weaving spiders, come not here # Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence # Beetles black, approach not near # Worm nor snail do no of fence # Worm nor snail do no of fence # Philomel with melody Sing in our sweet Lullaby # Lulla, lulla, Lullaby Lulla, lulla, Lullaby # Never harm, nor spell, nor charm Come our Lovely lady nigh # So good night, with Lullaby So good night, with Lullaby # So good night, with Lullaby So good night, with Lullaby # Lullaby, Lullaby # Hence away; now all is well.
One aloof stand sentinel.
What thou seest when thou dost wake, do it for thy true-love take," love and languish for his sake.
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, pard, or boar with bristled hair, in thy eye that shall appear when thou wak'st, it is thy dear.
Wake when some vile thing is near.
Fair Love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood," and, to speak troth, I have forgot our way.
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, and tarry for the comfort of the day.
Be it so, Lysander: Find you out a bed, for I upon this bank will rest my head.
One turf shall sen/e as pillow for us both.
On heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, lie further off," do not lie so near.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence.
Love takes the meaning in Love's conference.
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit, so that one heart we can make of it.
Two bosoms interchained with an oath, so then two bosoms and a single troth.
Then by your side no bed-room me deny, for lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
O, Lysander riddles very prettily.
Now beshrew my manners and my pride if Hermia meant to say Lysander lied! But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy lie further off, in human modesty.
Such separation as may well be said becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid.
So far be distant.
And, good night, sweet friend.
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet Life end.
Amen.
Amen, to that fair prayer say I.
So end Life when I end loyalty! Here is my bed.
Sleep give thee all his rest! With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! Through the forest have I gone, but Athenian found I none on whose eyes I might approve this flower's force in stirring Love.
Night and silence! Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear.
This is he, my master said, despised the Athenian maid; and here the maiden, sleeping sound, on the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! She durst not lie Near this Lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw all the power this charm doth owe: When thou wak'st let love forbid sleep his seat on thy eyelid.
So awake when I am gone; for I must now to Oberon.
Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.
Stay on thy peril," I alone will go.
O! I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies, for she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears.
If so, my eyes are of't'ner wash'd than hers.
No.
No.
I am as ugly as a bear.
For beasts that meet me run away for fear," therefore no marvel though Demetrius do as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander! On the ground! Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander! If you live, good sir, awake! And run through fire will I for thy sweet sake.
Ah, transparent Helena! Nature shows art, that through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? Hm? O, how fit a word is that vile name to perish on my sword! O, do not say so, Lysander.
Say not so! What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you," then be content.
Content? With Hermia? Ha! No, I do repent the tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia, but Helena I Love.
Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of man is by his reason sway'd, and reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe untiltheir season; so I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; and touching now the point of human skill, reason becomes the marshal to my will, and leads me to your eyes.
O, where I o'erlook Love's stories, written in Love's richest book.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hand did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, that I did never, no, nor never can, deserve a sweet Look from Demetrius' eye but you must flout my insufficiency? - Good troth, you do me wrong, you do! - No! In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well," perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady of one man refus'd should of another therefore be abus'd! She sees not Hermia.
Hermia, sleep thou there," and never mayst thou come Lysander near! All my powers address your love and might to honour Helen, and to be her knight! Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
Methought a serpent ate my heart away.
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander? What, remov'd? Lysander! Lord! What, out of hearing gone? No sound? No word? Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear.
Speak, of all Loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh.
Either death or you I'll find immediately.
Here's a man/ellous convenient place for our rehearsal.
- We will do it in action, as before the duke.
- Peter Quince! - What sayest thou, bully Bottom? - Things in this comedy will never please.
First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the ladies cannot abide.
- How answer you that? - A parlous fear! - We must leave the killing out! - I have a device to make all well.
Write me a prologue that seems to say we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kiLL'd,' and for better assurance that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver.
- This will put them out of fear.
- Well, we will have such a prologue.
- It shall be written in eight and six.
- No, in eight and eight.
- Will the ladies not be afeared of the lion? - I fear it.
Masters, to bring in - God shield us! - a Lion among Ladies is a most dreadful thing.
There is not a more fearful wiLd-fowl than your lion living.
Therefore another prologue should tell it that he's not a lion.
You must name his name, and his face must be seen through the Lion's neck, and he himself must say thus, or to the same defect: "Ladies," or "Fair ladies, I would wish you" or "I would request you" or "I would " - "Entreat you.
" - ".
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entreat you not to fear, not to tremble.
" "If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life.
I am no such thing.
"I am a man as other men are.
" And there, let him tell them plainly, he is - Snug the joiner.
- Well, it shall be so.
But there is two hard things.
And that is to bring the moonlight into a chamber.
For Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.
Doth the moon shine that night of our play? - A calendar! Look in the almanack - Yes, it doth shine that night.
Then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window open, and the moon may shine in at the casement.
Or eLse, one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person of Moonshine.
And there's another thing: We must have a wall in the great chamber.
For Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.
You can never bring in a wall.
What say you, Bottom? Some man or other must present Wall.
Let him have some plaster, some loam or rough-cast about him, to signify Wall.
Let him hold his fingers thus.
And through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
If that may be, then all is well.
Come, sit down every mother's son, and rehearse your parts.
Pyramus, you begin.
When you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake," and so every one according to his cue.
What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here, so near the cradle of the fairy queen? What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor," an actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
Speak, Pyramus.
Thisby, stand forth.
Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet Odious! Odorous! odorous savours sweet; so hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile; and by and by I will to thee appear.
A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here! Must I speak now? Ay, marry, must you.
For understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
O, most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, most brisky juvenal, and eke most Lovely Jew, as true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
"Ninus' tomb" man! Why, you mustn't speak that yet," that you answer to Pyramus.
You speak all your part at once, cues and all.
Pyramus! Your cue is past," it is "never tire".
O, as true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.
If I were fair, fair Thisby, I were only thine.
O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted! Pray, masters! Fly, masters! Help! I'll follow you," I'll lead you about a round, through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier; sometimes a horse, sometimes a hound, a hog, a bear, sometimes a fire," and neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
I see their knavery! This is to make an ass of me.
To fright me, huh, if they could.
Ooh! Ooh! Oh! Ah.
Ah! Oh.
Oh.
But I will not stir from this place.
Do what they can.
I will walk up and down here and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.
# The ousel cock, so black of hue # With orange-tawny bill # The throstle with his note so true # The wren with little quill - # The finch, the sparrow # - What angel wakes me from my bed? # The plain-song cuckoo grey # Whose note full many a man doth mark # And dares not answer nay # For, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would give a bird the lie, though he cry "cuckoo" never so.
I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note," so is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; and thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, on the first view, to say, to swear I love thee.
Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that.
Yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days.
The more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends.
I can gleek upon occasion.
Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Not so," but if I had wit enough to Leave this wood I have enough to serve mine own turn.
Out of this wood, do not desire to go! Thou shalt remain, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate," the summer still doth tend upon my state," and I do love thee.
Therefore, go with me.
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee," and they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, and sing, whilst thou on pressed flowers dost sleep.
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so that thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! - Moth and Mustardseed! - Ready! And I.
Where shall we go? Be kind and courteous to this gentle man.
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; feed him with apricocks and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs and mulberries; the honey bags steal from the humble-bee, and for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs and Light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, to have my love to bed and to arise; and pluck the wings from painted butterflies, to fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
Hail! I cry your worships mercy, heartily.
- I beseech your worship's name.
- Cobweb.
I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb.
If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.
- Your name, honest gentleman? - Peasblossom.
Good Master Peasblossom! I shall desire your more acquaintance too.
- Your name, I beseech you, sir? - Mustardseed.
Good Master Mustardseed! Your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now.
I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.
Come, wait upon him," lead him to my bower.
The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye.
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my lover's tongue! Bring him silently.
How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove? My mistress with a monster is in Love.
This falls out better than I could devise! O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse, for thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, and kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day as he to me.
Would he have stolen away from sleeping Hermia? I'd believe as soon this earth may be bor'd, and the moon through it creep and so displease her brother's noontide with the Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murd'red him," so should a murderer look - so dead, so grim.
So should the murdered look," so should I, pierc'd through the heart with your cruelty.
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear as Venus in her glimmering sphere.
What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Good Demetrius, would thou give him me? I'd rather give his carcass to my hounds.
Out, dog! Out, cur! Thou drivest me past the bounds of maiden's patience.
Has thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never numb'red among men! O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake.
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, and hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O, brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder do so much? An adder did it," for with doubler tongue than thine, never adder stung.
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood," nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
- Tell me that he is well.
- And what should I get therefore? A privilege never to see me more, and from thy hated presence part I so," see me no more, whether he be dead or no.
There is no following her in this fierce vein.
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
Thou hast mistaken quite and laid the Love-juice on some true-love's sight.
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue some true-love turn'd, not a false turn'd true.
Fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, a million fail, confounding oath on oath.
About the wood go swifter than the wind, and Helena of Athens look thou find; fancy-sick and pale of cheer, with sighs that costs the fresh blood dear.
See thou bring her here; I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
I go, I go," look how I go, swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.
Flower of this purple dye hit with Cupid's archery, sink in apple of his eye.
When his love he doth espy, let her shine as gloriously as the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st, if she be by, beg of her for remedy.
Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, and the youth mistook by me pleading for a lover's fee," Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! Draw aside.
The noise they make will cause Demetrius to awake.
- Scorn and derision - Then will two at once woo one.
That must needs be sport alone," and those things do best please me that befall prepost'rously.
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look when I vow, I weep," and vows so born, in their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you, bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? You do advance your cunning more.
These vows are Hermia's.
Will you give her o'er? - I had no judgment when to her I swore.
- Nor none, now you give her o'er.
Demetrius loves her, and loves not you.
Oh, Helen.
Goddess.
Nymph! Perfect! Divine! To what, my Love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy.
How ripe in show thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow.
- O, spite! - Pure congealed white Taurus' snow O, hell! I see you all are bent to set against me for your merriment.
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so.
You love Hermia.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do, but you must join in souls to mock me too? You love Hermia.
This you know I know.
With all my heart, in Hermia's love I yield you up my part.
- Princess of pure white, seal of bliss! - .
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when you hate me with your hearts.
- You both are rivals, and love Hermia.
- In Hermia's love I yield you up my part.
- And yours of Helena to me bequeath.
- Now both rivals do mock Helena.
Whom I do Love, and will do till my death.
A trim exploit.
A manly enterprise, to conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes with your derision.
None of noble sort would so offend a virgin Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, the ear more quick of apprehension makes.
to Helen is it home return'd, there to remain.
Helen! It is not so! Never did mockers waste more idle breath! Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? - Why stay when love doth press me go? - What love press'd you from my side? Lysander's Love, that would not let him bide - fair Helena, who more engilds the night than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? Mm? Could not this make thee know, the hate I bare thee made me leave thee so? Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three to fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! Most ungrateful maid! Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd to bait me with foul derision? Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, the sisters' vows, the hours we spent when we have chid the hasty-footed time for parting us? O, is all forgot? All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, have like two artificial gods, have with our needles created both one flower, both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, both warbling of one song, both in one key," as if our hands, our sides, voices and minds had been incorporate.
So we grew together like to a double cherry.
Seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two Lovely berries moulded on one stem," so, with two seeming bodies, but one heart.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder, to join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly.
'Tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, though I alone do feel the injury.
I am amazed at your passionate words," I scorn you not," it seems that you scorn me.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, to follow me and praise my eyes and face? And made your other Love, Demetrius, who even but now did spurn me, to call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare? Precious? Celestial? Wherefore speaks he this to her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander deny your Love, so rich within his soul, and tend on me, forsooth, affection, but by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, so hung upon with Love, so fortunate but miserable most, to love unLov'd? This you should pity rather than despise.
I understand not what you mean by this.
AY- do! Persever, counterfeit sad Looks, make mouths upon me when I turn my back, wink each at other," hold the sweet jest up.
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you had any pity, grace or manners, you would not make me such an argument.
- Fare ye well.
'Tis partly my own fault - Stay, gentle Helena - .
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which death, or absence soon shall remedy.
- Fair Helena! O excellent! Sweet, do not scorn her so.
- If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
- Thou canst, no more than she entreat.
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
Helen! I love thee! O, by my life, I do! I swear by that which I will lose to prove him false that says I love thee not.
- I say I love thee more than he can do.
- Withdraw and prove it too.
- Lysander, whereto tends all this? - Away, you Ethiope! Hang off, thou cat, thou burr," let loose or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
- Sweet Love! - Thy love? Ha! Out, tawny Tartar, out! - Loathed med'cine, hated potion, hence! - Do you not jest? - Yes, sooth, and so do you.
- You're a tame man, go! - I'll keep my word with thee.
- I would I had your bond.
- I'll not trust your word.
- Should I strike her, kill her dead? Mm? No.
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
What! Can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me? Wherefore? O, me! What news, my love? Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
Since night you lov'd me," yet since night you Left me.
Why then you Left me in earnest, shalll say? Ay, by my life! And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt," be certain, nothing truer," 'tis no jest that I do hate thee and love Helena.
O, me! "Ju99l-er! Sh! You canker-blossom! - You thief of Love! - Have you no modesty, no maiden shame? No touch of bashfulness? Will you tear impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie, you counterfeit! You puppet, you! Puppet? Why so? Ay, that way goes the game! Now I perceive that she hath made compare between our statures.
She hath urged her height, and with her personage, her tall personage, her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
Though you mock me, gentlemen, let her not hurt me.
Are you so high in his esteem because I am so - Dwarfish.
- .
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and so Low? I have no gift at all in shrewishness.
How Low am I, thou painted maypole? - Speak! How Low am I? - I am a right maid for my cowardice.
Not yet so Low but that my naiLs can reach unto thine eyes! You may think because she is Lower than myself that I can match her - Lower? Hark again! - I evermore did love you, Hermia.
I did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you," save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
I followed him but he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me, to spurn me, strike me, lo, to kill me too.
And now, so you will let me quiet go, to Athens will I bear my folly back and follow you no further.
Let me go! You see how simple and how fond I am.
Get you gone! Who is't that hinders you? A foolish heart that I leave here behind.
- What! With Lysander? - With Demetrius! Ooh, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd," she was a vixen at school, and, though she be but little, she is fierce.
Little again! Nothing but low and little.
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Get you gone, you dwarf, you minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made.
- You bead! You acorn! - Let her alone.
Speak not of Helena.
If thou dost intend never so little show of love to her, thou shalt aby it.
She holds me not.
Follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Follow? Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowL You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.
I will not trust you, I," nor Longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray.
My legs are Longer, though, to run away.
I am amaz'd, and know not what to say.
This is thy negligence.
Still thou mistak'st, or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man by Athenian garments he had on? So far blameless proves my enterprise that I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes," so far am I glad it so did sort, as this theirjangling I esteem a sport.
Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight.
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night.
The starry welkin cover thou anon with drooping fog as black as Acheron, and lead these testy rivals so astray as one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong.
Then railthou like Demetrius, and from each other lead them thus till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep, with leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye, whose Liquor hath this virtuous property, to take from thence all error with his might, and make his eyebalis roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision shall seem a dream and fruitless vision.
Back to Athens shall the lovers wend with League whose date till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy," and then I will her charmed eye release from monster's view and all shall be peace.
My fairy Lord, this must be done with haste, for night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast; and yonder shines Aurora's harbinger, at whose approach ghosts, wand'ring here and there, troop home to churchyards.
Damned spirits, that in cross-ways and floods have burial, already to their wormy beds are gone for fear lest day should look their shames upon.
They wilfully themselves exil'd from light and must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
But we are spirits of another sort.
I with Morning's love have oft made sport, and, like a forester the groves may tread even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay.
We may effect this business yet ere day.
Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down.
I am fear'd in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Where art thou now, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.
Here, villain.
Where art thou? - I'll be with thee straight.
- Follow me, then, to plainer ground.
Lysander, speak again.
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, telling the bushes that thou Look'st for wars, and wilt not come? Come, recreant.
Come, thou child.
I'll whip thee with a rod.
- He is defil'd that draws a sword on thee.
- Yea, art thou there? Follow my voice.
We'll try no manhood here.
He goes before me, and still dares me on.
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much Lighter heel'd than I.
I followed fast, but faster he did fly.
That fallen am I in dark uneven way.
And here will rest me.
Come, thou gentle day.
For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.
Ho, ho, ho, coward! Why com'st thou not? Abide me, if thou dar'st.
Thou run'st before me, shifting every place, dar'st not stand nor look me in the face.
- Where art thou now? - Come hither.
I am here.
Nay, then, thou mock'st me.
Thou shalt buy this dear, if ever I thy face by daylight see.
Now, go thy way.
Faintness constraineth me to measure out my length on this cold bed.
O, weary night.
O, long and tedious night, abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east, that I may back to Athens by daylight, from these that my poor company detest.
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, steal me awhile from my own company.
Yet but three? Come one more.
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad.
Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make poor females mad.
Never so weary, never so in woe, bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go.
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander if they mean a fray.
# On the ground sleep sound # I'll apply to your eye # Gentle Lover, remedy # # When thou wak'st, thou tak'st # True delight in the sight # Of thy former Lady's eye # And the country proverb known # That every man should take his own # In your waking shall be shown # jack shall have Jill # Nought shall go ill # The man shall have his mare again # And all shall be well # jack shall have Jill # Nought shall go ill # The man shall have his mare again # And all shall be well # Where's Peasblossom? - Ready.
- Scratch my head, Peasblossom.
Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed, while I thy amiable cheeks do coy, and stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head.
And kiss thy fair large ears.
O' my gentle joy! - Where's Monsieur Cobweb? - Ready.
O, Monsieur Cobweb.
Good monsieur, get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipp'd humble-bee on the top of a thistle.
And, good monsieur, bring me the honey-bag.
Don't 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 overflowen with a honeybag, signior.
- Ooh, where's Monsieur Mustardseed? - Ready.
Give me your neaf, monsieur.
Leave your curtsy, good monsieur.
- What's your will? - To help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch.
O, I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am man/ellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
Mm, mm, mm! Mm, mm, mm, mm, mmm.
What? Wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? Mm? I have a reasonable good ear in music.
Let's have the tongs and the bones.
Or say, sweet Love, what thou desirest to eat.
Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry oats.
I have a great desire to a bottle of hay.
Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
I have a venturous fairy that shall seek the squirrel's hoard, fetch thee new nuts.
I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas.
But let none of your people stir me," I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, away, and be all ways away.
So doth the woodbine the sweet honey-suckle gently entwist.
The female ivy so enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! O, how I dote on thee! Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity.
For, meeting her of late behind the wood, seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded with coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; and that same dew, which sometime on the buds was wont to swell like orient pearls, stood now within the pretty fLowerets' eyes, like tears that did their own disgrace bewail When I had at my pleasure taunted her, and she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child," which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent to bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo this hateful imperfection of her eyes.
Gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp from off the head of this Athenian swain, that he awaking when the other do may all to Athens back again repair, and think no more of this night's accidents but as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first, I will release the fairy queen.
Be as thou wast wont to be.
See as thou wast wont to see.
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania.
Wake you, my sweet queen.
My Oberon! What visions have I seen! Methought I was .
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enamour'd of an ass.
There Lies your Love.
How came these things to pass? How mine eyes do loathe his visage now.
Silence awhile.
Robin, take off his head.
Titania, music call.
Music! Music such as charmeth sleep.
Now when thou wak'st, with thine own fool's eyes peep.
Sound, music.
Come, my queen, take hands with me, and rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
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 prosperity.
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be wedded with Theseus, all in jollity.
Fairy king, attend and mark, I do hear the morning Lark.
Then, my queen, in silence sad, trip we after night's shade.
We the globe can compass soon, swifter than the wand'ring moon.
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.
I was with Hercules and Cadmus once when in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear with hounds of Sparta; never did I hear such gallant chiding, for, besides the groves, the skies, the fountains, every region near seem'd all one mutual cry.
I never heard so musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
Good-morrow, friends.
Saint Valentine is past.
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? But speak, Egeus, is this not the day that Hermia should give answer of her choice? It is, my Lord.
I pray all, stand up.
I know you two are rival enemies; how comes this gentle concord in the world that hatred is so far from jealousy to sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? My lord, I shall reply amazedly, half sleep, half waking; and as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here.
But, as I think - for truly would I speak, and now I do bethink me, so it is - I came hither with Hermia.
Our intent was to be gone from Athens, where, without peril of Athenian law Enough! Enough! My Lord, you have enough," I beg the law, the Law upon his head.
They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, thereby to have defeated you and me: You of your wife, and me of my consent, of my consent that she should be your wife.
My Lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, of this their purpose hither to this wood," and I in fury hither follow'd them, fair Helena in fancy following me.
My good Lord, I wot not by what power, my love to Hermia melted as the snow, seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaud which in my childhood I did dote upon," and all the faith, the virtue of my heart, the object and the pleasure of mine eye, is only Helena.
To her, my Lord, was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia.
But, Like a sickness, did I Loathe this food," but, as in health, come to my natural taste.
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, and will for evermore be true to it.
Egeus, I will overbear your will," for in the temple, by and by, with us these couples shall eternally be knit.
These things seem small and undistinguishable, Likefar-ol"f mountains turned into clouds.
Methinks I see these things with parted eye, when everything seems double.
So methinks.
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, mine own, and not mine own.
Are you sure that we're awake? It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream.
Do not you think the duke was here? - Yea, and my father.
- And he bid us follow to the temple.
Why, then, we are awake.
Let's follow him, and by the way let us recount our dreams.
When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer.
My next is, "Most fair Pyramus".
Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Stan/eling! God's me life, stol'n hence, and Left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision.
I have 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 O, but man is but a patch'd 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.
'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
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 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? 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.
Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet? He cannot be heard of.
Out of doubt he is transported.
If he come not, then the play is marr'd.
It goes not forward, doth it? It is not possible.
You have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.
No.
He hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.
Yea, and the best person too.
And he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.
You must say "paragon".
A paramour is - God bless us - a thing of naught.
The duke is coming from the temple, and there is three lords and ladies more married.
If our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.
O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life.
He could not have soaped sixpence a day.
The duke would not give him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged.
He would have desen/ed it.
Sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing.
Where are these lads? Where are these hearts? - Bottom? - Bottom? Bottom! O, most courageous day! O, most happy hour! I am to discourse wonders, but ask me not what.
- I will tell you everything, as it fell out.
- Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
Not a word of me.
All I will tell you is that the duke hath dined.
Get your apparel.
Good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps.
Meet presently at the palace.
Every man look o'er his part.
The short and long is, our play is preferr'd.
Yes! In any case, let Thisby have clean Linen.
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 garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
I do not doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy.
No more words! Go! Away! What masques, what dances shall we have to wear away the three hours till 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.
- Here, mighty Theseus.
- What abridgment have you this evening? What masque? What music? How shall we beguile the lazy time if not with some delight? There is a brief how many sports are ripe.
Make choice of which Your Highness will see first.
"The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung by a 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 Bacchanats, 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 Thisby; 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? A play there is, 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.
- What are they that do play it? - Hard-handed men from Athens.
They never Labour'd in their minds till now they have toil'd their unbreathed memories with this same play against your nuptial.
- And we will hear it.
- 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 sen/ice.
I will hear that play," for never anything can be amiss when simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in.
I Love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged and duty in his service perishing.
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
- They can do nothing in this kind.
- The kinder we to give 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, clerks have purposed to greet me with premeditated welcomes; I have seen them look pale, make periods in the midst of sentences, throttle their practis'd accent in their fears and dumbly 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 in the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity in least speak most to my capacity.
So please Your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.
Let him approach.
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.
Th 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.
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.
And 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.
And this grisly beast, which Lion hight by name Argh! 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 trusty 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.
In this same interlude it doth befall that I, one Snout by name, present a wall," and such a wall as I will have you think that had in it a crannied 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 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.
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.
Thou, O wall, O sweet, O Lovely wall, that stands 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.
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! Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me! The wall, methinks being sensible, should curse again.
No, in truth, sir, he should not.
"Deceiving me" is Thisby's cue.
She's to enter now.
I am to spy her through the wall.
You shall see.
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, for parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd they stones, thy stones with Lime and hair knit up in thee.
I see a voice; now will I to the chink to spy.
An I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby! My Love! Thou art my Love, I think Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace," and like Limander am I trusty still.
And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
- As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
- O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
I kiss the Wall's hole, not your lips at all.
Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so," and, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
The best are but shadows, and the worst are no worse if imagination amend them.
It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
If we imagine no worse of them than they do, they may pass for excellent men.
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 as Snug the joiner am a lion fell, nor else no Lion's dam," for, if I should as lion come in strife into your place, 'twere pity on my life.
A very gentle beast and of good conscience.
Let us Listen to the moon.
# This lantern doth the horned moon, the horned moon present # Myself the Man I' th' Moon do seem to be # This is the greatest error.
The man should be in the lantern.
How is it else the Man I' the' Moon? He dare not, for the candle is already in snuff.
I am weary of this moon.
It would appear by his small Light of discretion that he is in the wane.
In courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
# Myself # Proceed, Moon.
I have 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.
This is old Ninny's tomb.
Where is my love? Well roar'd, Lion.
- Well run, Thisby.
- Well shone, Moon.
Well mous'd, Lion.
- And then came Pyramus.
- And so the lion vanished.
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright," for, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite! 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? Stained with blood? Approach, ye Furies fell.
O Fates! Come, come.
Cut thread and thrum.
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
- Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
- Wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflower'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.
O come, tears, confound.
Out, sword, and wound .
.
the pap of Pyramus.
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.
Moon, take thy flight.
Now die, die die.
Die.
Die.
How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back and finds her lover? She will find him by starlight.
Here she comes, and her passion ends the play.
What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise.
Speak! Speak! Quite dumb.
Dead.
Dead.
A tomb must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips, this cherry nose, these yellow cowslip cheeks are gone.
Are gone! O, 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.
Moonshine and Lion are Left to bury the dead.
Ay, and Wall too.
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? Er, no Epilogue, I pray you.
Your play needs no excuse.
When all the players are dead, there need none to be blamed.
But come, your Bergomask.
Let your epilogue alone.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed," 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, as much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd the heavy gait of night.
Sweet friends, to bed.
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 hallowed house.
I am sent with broom before, to sweep the dust behind the door.
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.
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.
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," and the owner of it blest ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay," meet me all by break of day.
If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumb'red 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 am 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.
# Hand in hand with fairy grace # Hand in hand with fairy grace # Will we sing # Bless His Grace, and bless His Grace and bless His Grace # And each several chamber bless # Through this palace, with sweet peace # And the owner of it blest # Ever shall in safety rest # And the owner of it blest # Ever shall in safety rest # Hand in hand, with fairy grace will we sing # Hand in hand, with fairy grace will we sing # Hand in hand, with fairy grace will we sing # Bless His Grace, and bless His Grace and bless His Grace # And each several chamber bless # Through this palace, with sweet peace # And the owner of it blest # Ever shall in safety rest # And the owner of it blest # Ever shall in safety rest #