My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye; O teach me, how you look ; and with what art Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grafs; Her. And in the wood, where often you and I (2) Emptying our bosoms of their counfels fwell'd; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, To feek new friends, and strange companions.] And This whole fcene is ftrictly in rhyme; and that it deviates in thefe two couplets, I am perfuaded, is owing to the ignorance of the first, and the inaccuracy of the later, Editors: I have therefore ventur'd to reftore the rhymes, as I make no doubt but the Poet first gave them. Sweet was eafily corrupted into fwell'd, because that made an antithefis to emptying and strange companions our Editors thought was plain English; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, Things bafe and vile, holding no quantity, Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind J English; but franger companies, a little quaint and unintelligible. It may be neceffary, in proof of my emendation, to fhew, that our Author elsewhere ufes the fubftantive Kranger adjectively; and tompanies, to fignify companions. King John. A& 5. Wherein we step after a ftranger march Rich. II. Act 1. But tread the franger paths of banishment. Beaumont and Fletcher have used it in the like manner; Spanish Carats, A& 3. To bring into my family, to fucceed me, The Aranger iffue of another's bed. 2 Henry V. Act i. Since his addiction was to courfes vain, And fo, in a parallel word, Merry Wives of Windsor, A&t 3. As As waggish boys themselves in game forfwear, SCENE changes to a Cottage. [Exit. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Quin. Starveling. Bot. You were beft to call them generally S all our company here? man by man, according to the fcrip. Quin. Here is the fcrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke and Dutchefs, on his weddingday at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, fay what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and fo grow on to a point.. Quin. Marry, our play is the moft lamentable comedy, and moft cruel death of Pyramus and Thify. Bot. A very good piece of work, I affure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the fcrowl. Mafters, fpread yourselves. 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 fet down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself moft gallantly for love. Bot. That will afk fome tears in the true performing of it; if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; eyes; I will move storms; I will condole in fome meafure. To the reft; yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in: To make all fplit-(3)" the raging rocks, "and shivering fhocks fhall break the locks of prison"gates-and Phibbus carr fhall fhine from far, and "make and mar the foolish fates". -This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.n vas ob Flu, Here, Peter Quince 9dem iliw I 168 Quin. You must take Thiby on you. Flu. What is Thisby, a wand'ring Knight? Quin. It is the Lady, that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman ; I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one, you shall play it in a mask and you may speak as fmall, as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thiby too; I'll fpeak in a monitrous little voice, Thifne, Thifne ; ah, Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thisby dear, and Lady dear. Quin. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you, Thilby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the taylor. t Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thy's mother. (4) Tom Snowt, the tinker. (3) The raging rocks And fhivering fhocks, &c.] I prefume this to be either a quotation from fome fuftian old play, which I have not been able to trace; or if not a direct quotation, a ridicule on some bombast rants, very near resembling it. દ 2116 (4) you must play Thilby's mother.] There feems a double forgetfulness of our Poet, in relation to the characters of this Intertude. The father and mother of Thisbe, and the father of Pyramus, are here mentioned, who do not appear at all in the Interlude: but Wall and Moonshine are both employ'd in it, of whom there is not the leaft notice taken here. Snowt, Sow Here, Peter Quince Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myfelf, Thisby's father; Smug, the joiners you, the lion's part; I hope, there is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written ? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am flow of study. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing But roaring af idTq. Bot. Let me play the lion too; I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me. I will roar, that I will make the Duke fay, let him roar again, let him roar again. Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchefs and the Ladies, that they would fhriek, and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us every mother's fon. Bats grant you, friends, if you fhould fright the Ladies out of their wits, they would have no more difcretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice fo, that I will roar you as gently as any fucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a fweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one fhall fee in a fummer's day; a moft lovely gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus. Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I beft to play it in ? Quin. Why, what you will. 2 Bot. I will difcharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny-beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French crown-colour'd beard; your perfect yellow. Quin. (5) Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But, mafters, here are your parts; and I am to intreat you, requeft you, and defire you, to con them by to-morrow-night; and meet me in the palace-wood, a mile without the (5) Some of your French crowns have no bair at all.] See the third note on Meafure for Measure, which explains this dark paffage. town, |