Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

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 deceas'd 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 and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

[long,

Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words 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.

[here,

The. What are they that do play it? Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens Which never labour'd in their minds till now; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this same play, against your nuptial.

The. And we will hear it. Philost. No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, To do you service. The. I will hear that play; For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in:-and take your places, ladies. [Exit PHILOSTrate. Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing.

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

Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.

Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposèd
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,

Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,
In least speak most, to my capacity.

Enter PHILOSTRATE.

Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.

The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter Prologue.

Prol. "If we offend, it is with our good-will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good-will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not here. That you should here repent

you,

The actors are at hand; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know." The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. Hip. Indeed, he hath played on his prologue, like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in govern

ment.

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

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

Prol. "Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;

But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know;

This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;

And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are

content

To whisper; at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn

To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,

Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,

And finds his 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."

[Exeunt Prol. THISBE, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak.

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

Wall. "In this same interlude it doth befall,
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a cranny'd hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.

This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper."
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak

better?

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

The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Enter PYRAMUS.

Pyr. "O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!

O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, O night! alack, alack, alack!

I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,

That stand'st between her father's ground and Thou wall, O wall, O sweet, and lovely wall, [mine; Show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for But what see I? No Thisby do I see. [this!

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

"Deceiv

Pyr. No, in truth, Sir, he should not. ing me," is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you.-Yonder she comes.

Enter THISBE.

The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men.Here come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion. Enter Lion and Moonshine.

Lion. "You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear

The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity of my life."

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. [I saw. The. True; and a goose for his discretion. Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

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

Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my change!

moans,

For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,

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

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

This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.”
Pyr. "Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true."
This. "As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."
Pyr. "O! kiss me through the hole of this vile
wall!"

This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.” Pyr. "Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?"

This. "Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay." [Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBE. Wall. "Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go." [Exit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

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

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

[blocks in formation]

I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,
I trust to taste of truest Thisby's 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, stain'd with blood?

Approach, ye furies fell!

O fates, come, come,

Cut thread and thrum;

Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!"
The. This passion, and 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:
Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with
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!

[cheer.

[blocks in formation]

[Dies.

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

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

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

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:-
[Stabs himself. 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.-
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.

[Exit Moonshine.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE II.
Enter PUCK.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,

[Exeunt.

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their train.
Obe. Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf, and fairy sprite,

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

Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:

MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM.

Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place.

[Song and dance.

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,
Every fairy take his gait;

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace, with sweet peace:

Ever shall in safety rest,

And the owner of it blest.
Trip away; make no stay;

Meet me all by break of day.

[ACT V.

[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train.

Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,

If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call:

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

[Exit.

[blocks in formation]

SHYLOCK, a Jew.

TUBAL, a Jew, his friend.

LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, servant to SHYLOCK,

afterwards to BASSANIO.

Old Gовво, Father to LAUNCELOT. LEONARDO, Servant to BASSANIO. BALTHAZAR,

STEPHANO,

Servants to PORTIA.

PORTIA, a rich Heiress.

NERISSA, her Waiting-maid.

JESSICA, daughter to SHYLOCK

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice,
Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE,-Partly at VENICE, and partly at BELMONT, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

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

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

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

That court'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.

Solan. Believe me, Sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads,
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad.

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

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought

[blocks in formation]

kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare you well:
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you
merry,

If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?

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

[Exeunt SALARINO and SOLANIO.

« AnteriorContinuar »