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

The.
More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than ^note cool ^note reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact: ^note
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: ^note the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: ^note
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 ^note, and gives to airy ^note nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination, ^note

That, if it would ^note but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or ^note in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear! ^note

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

The.
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.
Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love ^note
Accompany your hearts!

Lys.
More than to us
Wait in ^note your royal walks, your board, your bed! ^note

The.
Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, ^note
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our ^note after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate ^note.

Phil. ^note
Here, mighty Theseus.

The.
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Phil. ^note
There ^note is a brief how many sports are ripe ^note:
Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper. ^note

The. [reads ^note]
The battle with the Centaurs ^note, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules. [Reads]
The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. [Reads]
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. [Reads]
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is, hot ice ^note and wondrous strange snow ^{note note}.
How shall we find the concord of this discord? ^note

Phil. ^note
A play there is ^note, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted:
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed. ^note

The.
What are they that do play it?

Phil.
Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now;

And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptial ^note.

The.
And we will hear it.

Phil.
No, my noble lord;
It is not for you: I have heard it over, ^note
And it is nothing, nothing in the world; ^note
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd ^note with cruel pain,
To do you service.

The.
I will hear that play;
For never any thing ^note can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. [Exit Philostrate.

Hip.
I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.

The.
Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

Hip.
He says they can do nothing in this kind.

The.
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty ^note cannot do ^note, noble respect
Takes ^note it in might, not ^note merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;

And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity. Re-enter ^note Philostrate.

Phil. ^note
So please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.

The.
Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. ^{note note}Enter Quince for the Prologue ^note.

Pro.
If we offend, it is with our good will.
  That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
  That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider, then, we come but in despite.
  We do not come as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
  We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know. ^note

The.

This fellow doth not stand upon points ^note.

Lys.

He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good ^note moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

Hip.

Indeed he hath played on his ^note prologue like a child on a recorder ^note; a sound, but not in government.

The.

His speech was like a tangled chain ^note; nothing impaired, ^notebut all disordered. Who is next ^note?

Enter ^note Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion.

Pro.
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 ^note and rough-cast, doth present
  Wall, that ^note vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
  To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
  Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
  To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly ^note beast, which Lion hight by name ^note, ^note
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall ^note,
  Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
  And finds his trusty ^note Thisby's mantle slain:
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
  He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying ^note in ^note mulberry shade,
  His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain
At large discourse, while here they do remain. [Exeunt ^note Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine.

The.

I wonder if the lion be to speak.

Dem.

No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.

Wall.
In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Snout ^note by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,

Through which the lovers, Pyramus ^note and Thisby ^note,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam ^note, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

The.

Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

Dem.

It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

The.

Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Pyr.
O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
  O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
  I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O ^note lovely wall,
  That stand'st ^note between her father's ground and mine!
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
  Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. ^note
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!
  Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

The.

The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Pyr.

No, in truth, sir, he should not. ‘Deceiving me’ is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now ^note, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes ^note.

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

My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
  Thy stones with lime and hair ^note knit up in thee ^note.

Pyr.

I see ^note a voice: now will I to the chink,
  To spy an I can hear ^note my Thisby's face.
Thisby!

This.
My love thou art, my love ^note I think. Pyr.
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
And, like Limander ^note, am I trusty still. This.
And I ^note like Helen, till the Fates me kill. Pyr.
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. This.
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. Pyr.
O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! This.
I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. Pyr.
Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? This.
'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. ^note Wall.
Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus wall away doth go. [Exit. ^note

The. ^note

Now is the mural down ^note between the two neighbours.

Dem.

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

Hip. ^note

This is the silliest stuff that ever ^note I heard.

The.

The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Hip.

It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

The.

If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come ^note two noble beasts in, a man ^note and a lion.

Enter Lion and Moonshine.

Lion.
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
  The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
  When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one ^note Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell ^note, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on ^note my ^note life.

The.

A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.

Dem.

The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

Lys.

This lion is a very fox for his valour.

The.

True; and a goose for his discretion.

Dem.

Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

The.

His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen ^note to the moon ^note.

Moon.
This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;—

Dem.

He should have worn the horns on his head.

The.

He is no ^note crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon.
This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the man i' the moon do ^note seem to be.

The.

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

Dem.

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

Hip.

I am aweary ^note of this moon: would he would change!

The.

It appears, by his ^note small light of discretion, that

he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.

Lys.

Proceed, Moon.

Moon.

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

Dem.

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

This.
This is old Ninny's tomb ^note. Where is ^note my love? ^note

Lion. [Roaring]

Oh—

Dem.

Well roared, Lion.

The.

Well run, Thisbe.

Hip.

Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a ^note good grace.

The.

Well moused ^note, Lion.

Dem.

And then came Pyramus.

Lys.

And so the lion vanished ^note.

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 gleams ^note,
  I trust to take ^note of truest Thisby ^note 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 ^note!

      Thy mantle good,
      What, stain'd with blood!
    Approach, ye ^note Furies fell!
      O Fates, come, come,
      Cut thread and thrum;
    Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! ^note

The.

This passion, and ^note the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Hip.

Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

Pyr.
O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
  Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear ^note:
Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame
  That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd with cheer.
      Come, tears, confound;
      Out, sword, and wound
    The pap of Pyramus;
      Ay, that left pap,
      Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself. ^note
    Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
      Now am I dead,
      Now am I fled;
    My soul is in the sky:
      Tongue ^note, lose ^note thy light;
      Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine. ^note
    Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies. ^note

Dem.

No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.

Lys.

Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

The.

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

Hip.

How chance Moonshine ^note is gone before Thisbe ^note comes back and finds her lover?

The.

She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

Re-enter Thisbe.

Hip.

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

Dem.

A mote ^note will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant ^note us; she for a woman, God bless us ^note.

Lys.

She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

Dem.

And thus she means ^note, videlicet:—

This.
    Asleep, my love?
    What, dead, my dove?
  O Pyramus, arise!
    Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
    Dead, dead? A tomb
  Must cover thy ^note sweet eyes.
    These lily lips ^note,
    This cherry nose ^{note note},
  These yellow cowslip cheeks,
    Are gone, are gone:
    Lovers, make moan:
  His eyes were green as leeks.
    O Sisters Three,
    Come, come to me,
  With hands as pale as milk;
    Lay ^note them in gore,
    Since you have shore
  With shears his ^note thread of silk.
    Tongue, not a word:
    Come, trusty sword;
  Come, blade, my breast imbrue: [Stabs herself. ^note
    And, farewell, friends;
    Thus Thisby ends:
  Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies.

The.

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

Dem.

Ay, and Wall too.

Bot. ^note [Starting up ^note]

No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?

The.

No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need ^note none to be blamed. Marry ^note, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged ^note himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone.

Puck.
Now the hungry lion ^note roars,
  And the wolf behowls ^note the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
  All with weary task fordone ^note.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
  Whilst the screech-owl ^note, 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 ^note paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
  By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
  Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door. Enter ^note Oberon and Titania with their train.

Obe.
Through ^note the ^note house give ^note glimmering light,
  By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
  Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

Tita.
First, rehearse your ^note song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song and dance. ^note

Obe.
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, ^note
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace, ^note
Ever shall in safety ^note rest,
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away; ^note make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day. ^note [Exeunt ^note Oberon, Titania, and train.

[Epilogue] Puck.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these ^note 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 ^note an ^note 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.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends. [Exit.

NOTES. ^note