Starveling the Taylor.
Quince.
Is all our Company here!
Bot.
You had best call 'em generally,
Man by Man, according to the
Scrip.
Quin.
Every Man answer to his Name.
Bot.
First, good Peter Quince, say
what our Mask treats on; then read the Names of
the Actors, and so go on to give out the Parts.
Quin.
Marry, our Mask is the most Lamentable
Story, and most cruel Death, of Pyramus and Thisbe.
Bot.
A very good Piece of work I assure you, and
merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your
Actors by the Scroul? Masters, spread your selves.
Quin.
Answer as I call you; Nick Bottom the Weaver.
Bot.
Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Quin.
You Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
-- 2 --
Bot.
What is Pyramus? a Lover, or a Tyrant?
Quin.
A Lover, that kills himself most Gallantly
for Love.
Bot.
That will ask some Tears in the true Performance
of it. If I do it, let the Ladies look to
their Eyes; I will move Storms. I will condole in
some measure. Yet me chief Humour is for a Tyrant,
I could do * noteErcles rarely, or a Part to make all split,
The Raging Rocks,
And Shiv'ring Shocks,
Shall break the Locks
Of Prison-Gates;
And Phœbus Car
Shall shine from far,
And make and mar
The foolish Fates.
This was Lofty. Now name the other Parts.
this is Ercles's vein, a Tyrant's vein; a Lover is more
condoling.
Quin.
Francis Flute the Bellows-mender.
Flute.
Here Peter Quince.
Quin.
You must take Thisbe on you.
Flute.
What is Thisbe? a wandring Knight?
Quin.
It is the Lady that Pyramus must Love.
Flute.
Nay faith, let not me be the Woman, I
have a Beard come.
Quin.
That's all one, you shall do it in a Mask,
and sing in a feign'd Voice.
Bot.
An' I may hide my Face, let me be Thisbe
too: I'll sing in a monstrous little Voice, Thisbe,
Thisbe; Ah! Pyramus, my Lover dear, and Thisbe
dear, and Lady dear.
Quin.
No, no, you must be Pyramus; and Flute,
you Thisbe.
Bot.
Well, proceed.
Quin.
Robin Starveling the Taylor.
Star.
Here Peter Quince.
Quin.
Robin Starveling, you must be Thisbe's Mother.
Tom Snout the Tinker.
-- 3 --
Snout.
Here Peter Quince. My self Thisbe's Father.
Quin.
You, Pyramus's Father; Snug the Joyner,
you the Lion's part; and I hope all are fix'd.
Snug.
I hope the Lion's Part is not long, for I am
slow of Study.
Quin.
You may do it Extempore; for it is nothing
but roaring.
Bot.
Let me do the Lion too, I will roar that it
will do any one's Heart good to hear me; I will
roar, that it will make the Audience say, let him
roar again, let him roar again.
Quin.
If you shou'd do it too terribly, you wou'd
fright the Ladies; and they wou'd shriek, and that
were enough to hang us all.
All.
I, I, that wou'd hang every Mothers Son
of us.
Bot.
I grant you Friends, if I shou'd fright the
Ladies out of their Wits, they might 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
Lamb; I will roar you, as 'twere any Nightingale.
Quin.
You can do no Part but Pyramus; for Pyramus
is a sweet-fac'd Youth, as proper a Man as
one shall see in a Summers Day! a more lovely Gentleman-like
Man, therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot.
I will undertake it then. But hark you, Peter
Quince.
Quin.
What say'st thou, Bully Bottom.
Bot.
There are things in this Mask of Pyramus
and Thisbe, which will never please; First, Pyramus
must draw a Sword to kill himself; which the Ladies
cannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout.
Why ay, that's a parlous fear.
Star.
I believe we must leave killing out, when
all's done.
Bot.
Not a whit, I have a Device to make all well;
write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue say, we
will do no harm with our Swords, and that Pyramus
-- 4 --
is not kill'd indeed; and for the better assurance,
tell 'em that I Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Nick
Bottom the Weaver, and that will put 'em out of
all fear.
Quin.
Well, we will have such a Prologue.
Snout.
Will not the Ladies be afraid of the Lion?
Star.
I promise you, I fear it.
Bot.
Masters, you ought to consider with your selves.
To bring in (God bless us) a Lion among Ladies,
is a most dreadful thing! For there is not a more
rightful Creature living, and we ought to look to it.
Snug.
Therefore we must have another Prologue,
to tell 'em he is not a Lion.
Bot.
Nay, you must name his Name, and half
his Face must be seen thro' the Lyon's Neck, and
he himself must speak thro' it, saying thus, or to
the same defect; Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would
wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat
you, not to fear, nor tremble, my life for yours: if
you think I came hither as a Lion, it were pity of
my Life; No, I am no such thing, I am a Man as
other Men are; and there indeed let him name his
Name, and tell 'em plainly he is Snug the Joyner.
Quin.
Well, it shall be so. But there are two
hard things in our Mask, to bring the Moon-shine into
a Chamber, for you know Pyramus and Thisbe
meet by Moon-light.
Snug.
Does the Moon shine to Night, or not?
Bot.
A Kalendar, a Kalendar, look in the Almanack;
find out Moon-shine, find out Moon-shine.
Flute.
Yes, it does shine to Night.
Bot.
Why, then you may leave the Casement of
the Great Hall Window open, and the Moon may
shine in at the Casement.
Quin.
Or else one may come in with a Bush of
Thorns, and a Lanthorn, and say he comes to Disfigure,
or to present the Person of Moon-shine.
Then there is another thing, we must have a Wall
-- 5 --
in the great Room; for Pyramus and Thisbe (as says
the Story) did talk thro' the Chink of a Wall.
Star.
You can never bring in a Wall. What
say you, Bottom?
Bot.
One of us must present a Wall, and let him
have some Plaster, and some Lime, and some rough-cast
about him, to signifie a Wall; and let him
hold his Fingers thus, and thro' that Cranny shall
Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.
Quin.
If that may be, then all's well; and I am
to intreat you, request you, and desire you, to get
perfect against Night; in the mean time, I will get
your Properties ready, that every Man may dress
to perform in Form; and pray fail me not.
All.
Enough, enough we will all be perfect.
[Ex.
Enter Prologue; with Two Trumpets.
Prol.
If we offend, it is with our good Will,
That you shou'd think we come not to offend:
But with good Will to shew our simple Skill,
This is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come, but in despight
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.
Yet I see some Critick Faces,
That will say, the Author's Noddle
Is grown frantick, soft or addle;
But no matter if it please ye,
At their Thoughts he will be easy:
So he bid me when he sent me,
Say his Hopes were to content ye,
And that you should not repent ye.
-- 6 --
Here's no Daphne's, and Apollo's,
Grave and serious,
No Whining Venus,
Nor Adonis,
Nor Myrtillo's
But a Whim that's odd and various,
Sung by Jolly Fellows.
If the drooping Hyppo seize ye,
If the Spleen and Vapours teize ye,
'Tis the sprightly Composition
Then must be your true Physician.
So to Night with something Airy,
Let not our good Will miscarry,
We intend to make you Merry.
The Singers are at hand, and by their show
You shall know all, that you are like to know.
Sem.
Hold, hold, Mr. Prologue I would have it
With a falling Cadence as thus—
You shall know all, that you are like to know.
Pro.
—That you are like to know.
Sem.
Very well, that will do—
[Ex. Pro. and Trumpets.
Crot.
This Fellow doth not stand upon his Points.
Gam.
He hath rid his Prologue like a rough Colt;
he knows neither Stop nor Cadence.
Crot.
Indeed he hath play'd on his Prologue, like
a Child on the Recorder; a Sound but not in Government.
Gam.
But who comes here?
Sem.
This Man, with Lime and Rough-cast, doth present
Wall, the vile Wall, which did the Lovers sunder:
And thro' Wall's Chink, poor Souls, they were content
To whisper. At the which let no Man wonder.
-- 7 --
SCENE I.
A Garden.
Enter Wall.
Wall.
In this same Interlude it doth befal,
That I, (Starveling 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 Thisbe
Did whisper often very secretly.
The wretched Sighs, and Groans,
The rueful Sobs and Moans,
With Pity I
Have seen, and now Condole—
I'll now Comply,
And give Assistance
Without Resistance,
If they will hie
To my whisp'ring Hole.
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:
Crot.
Who would desire Lime and Hair to sing better?
Gam.
This is the most Musical Partition I ever heard.
Sem.
My Friend Crotchet: This is nothing to what
we have abroad, and by degrees I am in hopes
to bring our dull English to this polite Taste.
But see!
Pyramus draws near the Wall. Silence.
-- 8 --
SCENE II.
Enter Pyramus.
Pyr.
O grim-look'd Night! a Night with hue so black,
O Night! which ever art when Day is not!
O Night! Oh Night! alack! alack! alack!
I fear my Thisbe's Promise is forgot.
And thou, Oh Wall, thou sweet and lovely Wall,
That stands between her Father's Ground and mine,
Shew me thy Chink, to blink through with mine Eyne.
Thanks, courteous Wall, Jove shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbe do I see.
O wicked Wall! through whom I see no Bliss
Curst may you be for thus deceiving me.
Crot.
The Wall, methinks, being sensible, should
curse again.
Sem.
There you are quite mistaken, for deceiving me
Is Thisbe's cue; she is to enter, and he is to spy
Her through the Wall.
Pat as I told you, Yonder she comes.
SCENE III.
Enter Thisbe.
Thi.
O Wall, full often hast thou heard my Moans;
For parting my Dear Pyramus and me.
Pyr.
I hear a Voice: now will I to the Chink,
To spy if I can see my Thisbe's Face. Thisbe.
Thi.
My Love! thou art; my Love I think.
Pyr.
Think what thou wilt, I am thy Lover's Grace;
And like ‡ noteLimander, am I constant still.
Thi.
And I like &sign; noteHelen, 'till the Fates me kill.
Not * noteShafalus to † noteProcrus was so true,
2 Vo.
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
-- 9 --
Pyr.
O kiss me through the Hole of this vile Wall.
This.
I kiss the Wall's hole; not thy Lips at all.
Pyr.
Wilt thou at Ninny's Tomb meet me straight way?
This.
Tide Life, tide Death
2 Vo.
I come without delay/I go without delay.
Ex. Pyr. & This.
Wall solus.
Wall.
Thus have I Wall, my Part discharged so,
And being done, thus Wall away does go.
[Ex.
Crot.
Now is the Moral down between the two
Neighbours.
Sem.
No Remedy my Friend, when Walls are
so wilful to hear without warning.
Crot.
This is the silliest stuff that I e'er heard.
Sem.
The best in this kind are but Shadows, and
the worst are no worse, if Imagination amend them.
Crot.
It must be your Imagination then, and not theirs
Gam.
If we Imagine no worse of them than they
of themselves, they may pass for excellent Performers.
Sem.
Here come two Noble Beasts in, a Man
and a Lion.
Crot.
I wonder whether the Lion be to sing?
Sem.
Never wonder at that, for we that have
Study'd the Italian Opera may do any thing in this
kind.
SCENE IV.
The Tomb of Ninus in a Wood near Babylon.
Enter Lion, and Moon-shine.
Li.
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 Joyner am;
No Lion fell, nor else no Lion's Dam.
For if I shou'd as Lion, come in strife
Into this Place, 'twere pity of my Life.
-- 10 --
Ladies don't fright you,
I will delight you.
With gentle Roar.
Let not a Creature,
Tho' fierce in Nature,
Change any Feature,
I do Implore.
Who can say fy on
So Tame a Lion,
So full of Breeding,
So far exceeding
Lions before.
Crot.
A very gentle Beast, and of a good Conscience.
Gam.
The very best at a Beast, truly, that e'er I saw.
Crot.
This Lion is a very Fox for his Valour.
Gam.
True, and a Goose for his Discretion.
Sem.
Not so, my Friend! for his Valour cannot
carry his Discretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.
Gam.
His Discretion I am sure cannot carry his
Valour, for the Goose carries not the Fox.
Crot.
It is well: leave it to his Discretion, and
let us hearken to the Moon.
Moon.
This Lanthorn doth the horned Moon present,
My self the Man i'th' Moon doth seem to be.
Gam.
This is the greatest Error of all the rest:
the Man shou'd be put into the Lanthorn: How is
it else the Man i'th' Moon?
Crot.
He dares not come there for the Candle,
for you see it is already in Snuff.
Moon.
The Man in Moon am I, Sir,
And hither come down from the Sky, Sir,
To tell how we People above
Enjoy our Pleasures, and Love.
Ever Ranging,
Ever Changing,
Bumpers Drinking,
Never Thinking,
Thus we Riot, thus we Rove.
-- 11 --
Gam.
I am weary of this Moon, wou'd he wou'd
Change.
Crot.
It appears by his small light of Discretion
that he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all
reason, we must stay the time. Proceed Moon.
Moon.
All that I have to say, is to tell you,
That the Lanthorn is the Moon:
I the Man in the Moon;
This Thorn-bush, my Thorn-bush,
And this Bumper my Bumper.
Sem.
Silence, silence Moon, here comes Thisbe.
SCENE V.
Enter Thisbe.
This.
This is old Ninny's Tomb; where is my Love?
Lion.
Lady don't fright you,—O!
I will delight you—O!
With gentle Roar.
This.
Ah! ah!
[Ex. Thisbe and Lion.
Crot.
Well roar'd Lion.
Gam.
Well run Thisbe.
Crot.
Well shone Moon.
Sem.
Truly the Moon shines with a good Grace.
Crot.
Well Mous'd Lion.
Gam.
And then came Pyramus.
Crot.
And so the Lion vanish'd.
SCENE VI.
Enter Pyramus.
Pyr.
Sweet Moon, 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 taste of truest Thisbe's sight.
But stay. O spight!
But mark; poor Knight
What dreadful Dole is here?
Eyes d'ye see,
How can it be!
-- 12 --
O dainty Duck! O dear!
Thy Mantle good! what, stain'd with Blood?
Approach, you Furies fell:
O Fates! come, come,
Cut Thread and Thrum,
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
Gam.
This Passion, and the Death of a dear Friend,
wou'd go near to make a Man look sad.
Crot.
Beshrew my Heart, but I pity the Man.
Gam.
If this won't move the Ladies, poor Pyramus
will take pains to little purpose.
Sem.
If this won't fetch a Subscription, I'll never
pretend to Compose Opera, or Mask again, while I
live.
Pyr.
O wherefore, Nature, didst thou Lions frame?
Since Lion wild 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 Chear.
Come Tears, confound: out Sword, and wound
The Pap of Pyramus.
Ay, that left Pap, where Heart doth hop:
As Bird doth hop in Cage.
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 your flight,
Now die, die, die, die.
Gam.
So, there's an end of Pyramus.
Crot.
I'll assure you the Man died well, like a Hero
in an Italian Opera, to very good Time and Tune.
Gam.
But, how chance the Moon-shine is gone,
before Thisbe comes back, and finds her Lover?
Sem.
She will find him by Star-light; here she
comes, and her Passion ends the Mask.
Crot.
Methinks she should not use a long one for
such a Pyramus. I hope She'll be brief.
-- 13 --
Sem.
A Moth will turn the Ballance, which Pyramus,
which Thisbe is the better; Silence, she has
spy'd him already.
SCENE VII.
Enter Thisbe.
This.
Asleep, my Love?
What, dead, my Dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak! speak! quite Dumb?
Dead! dead! a Tomb
Must cover thy sweet Eyes.
These Lilly Lips,
This Cherry Nose,
These yellow Cowslip Cheeks
Are gone, are gone:
Lovers make Moan:
His Eyes are green as Leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With Hands as pale as Milk:
Lay them in gone,
Since you have shore
With Sheers, this Thread of Silk.
Tongue, not a Word:
Come, trusty Sword;
Come, Blade, my Breast imbrue;
Now farewell Friends,
Thus Thisbe ends.
Adieu, adieu, adieu.
Gam.
Moon-shine and Lion are left to bury the Dead.
Cro.
Ay, and Wall too.
Sem.
No, I assure you, the Wall is down that parted
their Fathers Gardens. Now will it please you to
have the Epilogue, or a Dance?
Crot.
No Epilogue, I beseech you; the Mask
needs no Excuse; for when the Performers are all
dead, there need none to be blam'd; yet I think, if
-- 14 --
he that writ it had done Pyramus, and hang'd himself
in Thisbe's Garters, it would have been a much better
Performance.
Gam.
Pray Mr. Semibreve, who is to Perform the
Epilogue?
Sem.
Pyramus and Thisbe.
Gam.
Pyramus and Thisbe—they are both
dead.
Sem.
Pho, pho, d'ye think the Audience suppose
them to be Dead? that's a Jest indeed.—I think
it is better to make 'em rise and sing the Epilogue,
and go off by themselves, than to have Three or
Four dirty Property Fellows come and carry 'em
off.
Crot.
'Tis very well, Mr. Semibreve; pray let us
have your Epilogue in this New manner.
Sem.
Pyramus, pray rise and sing the Epilogue.
EPILOGUE.
Pyr.
What shall I say—I'm a Dog?
If I can sing an Epilogue.
The Ladies too, will be afraid
To hear a Man sing that is Dead.
But if a Whim like this may be,
Thisbe must rise as well as me.
Thisbe.
This.
—What says my Pyre's Tongue?
Pyr.
The Epilogue is to be Sung.
This.
O fye my Love, how can it be?
I ne'er cou'd Sing Extempore.
Pyr.
E'en let us try, 'tis but a Jest,
Somtimes an off-hand Thing is best;
Tho' I confess 'tis a New thing,
To make the Dead get up and sing.
This.
Pray don't pretend to't, for 'egad,
They'll certainly believe us Mad;
-- 15 --
Pyr.
If that's the worst, we shall agree,
For all the World's as mad as we.
All are madding,
And Wits a gadding,
Past and present,
From the Peasant,
To the Peer.
Some grow frantick with Ambition,
Every Fool turns Politician;
All are Wise,
And feign wou'd rise
To Pow'r and Riches.
None refuse 'em,
None wou'd lose 'em.
Fame and Fortune all bewitches.
Some have Reason
Out of Season.
Madness seizes each Condition.
Priest and Poet
Often show it;
This by Ranting,
That by Canting.
All are caught, there's no Man clear.
This.
Now, what can I say for the Mask?
Pyr.
Say, Ladies—I've a Boon to ask,
That you wou'd smile—and then,
Bow round to all the Gentlemen,
And beg that they too wou'd consent,
To like this little Amusement;
And in return, our Thanks we'll pay,
With Strife to please you Day by Day,
And wish all you in Love—may be,
As I to Thisbe,—she to me.
-- 16 --
TWO VOICES.
My Pyre, my Treasure, / My Thisbe, my Pleasure,
My Deare, my Pleasure; / My Darling, my Treasure,
No more, bid adieu. / No more will we part.
In Love, I defie all, / Thou Flow'r of all Beauty,
To find one so true. / Thou Cure of all Smart,
To th' Sun as is Dial, / I'll ever be true t'ye,
So I'll be to you. / Thou Rose of my Heart.
My Pyre, my Treasure, / My Thisbe, my Pleasure,
My Deare, my Pleasure; / My Darling, my Treasure,
No more, bid adieu. / No more will we part.
