Hip. But all the ftory of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd fo together,
More witneffeth than fancy's images,

And grows to fomething of great conftancy;
But, howfoever, ftrange and admirable.

Enter Lyfander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.

The. Here comes the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Joy, gentle friends; joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts.

Lyf. More than to us,

Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed.

The. Come now, what masques, what dances shall we To wear away this long age of three hours, [have, Between our after-supper and bed-time?

Where is our ufual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? is there no play,
To eafe the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philoftrate.

Enter Philoftrate.

Philoft. Here, mighty Thefeus.

The Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? What mafque what mufic how shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with fome delight?

Philoft. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your Highnefs will fee first. [Giving a paper.

The. [reads.] The battle with the centaurs, to be fung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.

We'll none of that. That I have told my love,
In glory of my kinfman Hercules.

The riot of the tipfy Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian finger in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was plaid,
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
The thrice three mufes mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
That is fome fatyr, keen and critical;
Not forting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thibe; very tragical mirth.

Merry

Merry and tragical tedious and brief?

That is hot ice, a wondrous ftrange fhew.
How shall we find the concord of this difcord?
Philoft. A play there is, my Lord, fome ten words
Which is as brief, as I have known a play; [long;
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 faw rehears'd, I must confefs,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The paffion of loud laughter never shed.

The. What are they that do play it?

Philoft. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now ; And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories With this fame play against your nuptials. The. And we will hear it.

Philoft. 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 fport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you fervice.

The. I will hear that play :

"For never any thing can be amifs,

"When fimplenefs and duty tender it.

Go, bring them in, and take your places, ladies.

[Exit Phil. Hip. I love not to fee wretchedness o'ercharge'd, And duty in his fervice perifhing.

The. Why, gentle fweet, you fhall fee no fuch thing. Hip. He fays, 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 (willing) duty cannot do, Noble refpect takes it in might, not merit. "Where I have come, great clerks have purpofed "To greet me with premeditated welcomes; "Where I have seen them fhiver and look pale, "Make periods in the midst of sentences,

"Throttle

"Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
"And, in conclufion, dumbly have broke off,
"Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, fweet,

"Out of this filence yet I pick'd a welcome :
"And in the modesty of fearful duty

"I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
"Of fawcy and audacious eloquence.
Love therefore, and tongue-ty'd fimplicity,
In leaft fpeak moft, to my capacity.

Enter Philoftrate.

Philo. So please your Grace, the prologue is addrefs'd. The. Let him approach.

[Flor. Trum.

SCENE II. Enter Quince, for the prologue. Pro. If we offend, it is with our good-will. That you fhould think we come not to offend, But with good-will. To fhew our fimple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Confider, then, we come but in despight. We do not come as minding to content you,

Our true intent is.

[you,

All for your delight, -That you fhould here repent The actors are at hand; and by their show,

We are not here.

You fhall know all that you are like to know. The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lyf. 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 play'd on his prologue, like a child on the recorder; a found, but not in government. The His fpeech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all difordered. Who is the next?

Enter Pyramus, and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion, as in dumb fhew.

Pro. Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this fhow; 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-caft, doth prefent Wall, the vile wall, which did thefe lovers funder:

And

}

And through wall's chink, poor fouls, they are content
To whiiper, at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bufh of thora,
Prefenteth moonfhine: for, if you will know,
By moonshine did thefe lovers think no fcorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grifly beaft, which by name Lion hight,
The trufty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did fcare away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle fhe let fall;
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did ftain.
Anon comes Pyramus, fweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty I hisby's mantle flain;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast.
And Thisby, tarrying in the mulberry fhade,

His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large difcourfe, while here they do remain.

[Exeunt all but Wall.

The. I wonder if the Lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my Lord; one Lion may, when many affes do.

Wall. In this fame interlude, it doth befal,

That I, one Snowt by name, prefent a wall:
And fuch a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a crannied hole or chink;
Through which the lovers, Pyr`mus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very fecretly.

This lome, this rough-caft, and this ftone doth shew,
That I am that fame wall; the truth is fo.

And this the cranny is, right and finister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
The. Would you defire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
difcourfe, my Lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall: filence.

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue fo O night which ever art, when day is not! [black!

1

O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby's promife is forgot.
And thou, O wall, O fweet and lovely wall,

That stands between her father's ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O fweet and lovely wall,

Shew me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. Thanks, courteous wall; Jove fhield thee well for this! But what fee I? no Thisby do I fee.

O wicked wall, through whom I fee no blifs
Curs'd be thy ftones for thus deceiving me!

The. The wall, methinks, being fenfible, fhould curse again.

Pyr. No, in troth, Sir, he should not. Deceiving me, is Thisby's cue; she is to enter, and I am to ipy her through the wall. You fhall fee it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder fhe comes.

Enter Thibe.

This. O wall, full often haft thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me. My cherry lips have often kifs'd thy stones: Thy ftones with lime and hair knit up in thee. Pyr. I fee a voice; now will I to the chink, To fpy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby !

Thif. My love! thou art, my love, I think.

Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace. And, like Limander, am I trusty ftill.

Thif. And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.
Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was fo true.
Thif. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Pyr. O kifs me through the hole of this vile wall. Thif. I kifs 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. Wall. Thus have I Wall my part discharged fo: 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 fo wilful to rear without warning.

Hip. This is the fillieft ftuff that e'er 1 heard.

VOL. I.

P

The.