Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her,
And she, in mild terms, begged 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.
And, 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;

[Touching her eyes with an herb.

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.
Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamoured of an ass.
Obe. There lies your love.

Tita. How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now!
Obe. Silence, a while.-Robin, take off this
head.-

Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep, of all these five the sense.
Tita. Music, ho! music; such as charmeth
sleep.

Puck. Now, when thou wak'st, with thine own

fool's eyes peep.

Obe. Sound, music. [Still 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 posterity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark;

I do hear the morning lark.
Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad,

Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.
Tita. 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.
[Exeunt. Horns sound within.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and Train.
Thes. Go, one of you, find out the forester ;-

For now our observation is performed;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds,—
Uncouple in the western valley; go:-
Despatch, I say, and find the forester.-
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bayed the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seemed all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flewed, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-kneed, and dew-lapped like Thessalian bulls;

Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheered with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly :
Judge, when you hear.-But, soft; what nymphs
are these?

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena :
I wonder of their being here together.

Thes. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe The rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.— But, speak, Egeus; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice? Ege. It is, my lord.

Thes. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.

Horns and shout within. DEMETRIUS, LYSANDER,
HERMIA, and HELENA, wake and start up.
Thes. Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine
is past;

Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys. Pardon, my lord.

Thes.

[He and the rest kneel to THESEUS.
I pray you all, stand up.

I know, you are two 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?

Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half 'sleep, half waking: but 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 with Hermia hither: our intent

Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the peril of the Athenian law.

Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:

I beg the law, the law upon his head.-
They would have stolen away, they would, Deme-
trius,

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.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their
stealth,

Of this their purpose hither, to this wood;
And I in fury hither followed them;

Fair Helena in fancy following me.

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power
(But, by some power it is), my love to Hermia,
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gawd,
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 betrothed ere I saw Hermia;
But, like in sickness, did I loath this food:
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

Thes. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we will hear more anon.-
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple, by and by with us,
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.--
Away, with us, to Athens: three and three,
We'll hold a feast of great solemnity.---
Come, Hippolyta.

[Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and Train.

Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,

Like far-off mountains turnéd into clouds.
Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye,
When everything seems double.

As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer :-my next is, "Most fair Pyramus.”— Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! Flute, the bellowsmender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life! stolen 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,—but man is but a patched 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.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Athens. A Room in QUINCE's House. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING. Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house?—is he come home yet?

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred; it goes not forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he. Flu. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice. Flu. You must say, paragon: a paramour is, God bless us! a thing of nought.

Enter SNUG.

Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

Flu. O sweet Bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a-day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter BOTTOM.

Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

Quin. Bottom!-O most courageous day! O most happy hour!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you everything, right as it fell out.

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you, is, that the duke hath dined: get your apparel together; good strings to your beards, new

ribands to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for, the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No words; away; go away. [Exeunt.

Thes. 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 frantick,
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 supposed a bear?
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.

Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and
HELENA.

Thes. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love, Accompany your hearts!

A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe: very tragical mirth.

Thes. Merry and tragical? tedious and brief? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord? Philost. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long;

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

Thes. What are they that do play it?
Philost. Hardhanded men, that work in

Athens here,
Which never laboured in their minds till now;

For never anything 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.

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

Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. Thes. 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 purposéd
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 picked 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.

Thes. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.

Enter PROLOGUE. PROLOGUE.

If we offend, it is with our good will.

That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew 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. Thes. 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 this prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

Thes. 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. PROLOGUE.

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 roughcast, 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 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 beast, which by name lion hight, 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 broached 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 PROLOGUE, THISBE, LION, and MOONSHINE.

Thes. 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 crannied hole, or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.

This lime, this roughcast, and this stone, doth shew
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.

Thes. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

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

Thes. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!