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Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running,
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent
Things growing are not ripe until their season:
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ?
130 But fare you well: perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 0, that a lady, of one man refused, Should of another therefore be abused!
[Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there : And never mayst thou come Lysander near! For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive,
140 So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight!
[Exit. Her. [Awaking.] Help me, Lysander, help me!, do thy
150 Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord ! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word ?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
SCENE I. The wood. Titania lying asleep.
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and
STARVELING. Bot. Are we all met?
Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke.
Bot. Peter Quince, –
Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout. By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.
Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.
Bot. No, make it two more;, let it be written in eight and eight.
Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ?
Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in-God shield us !-a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to 't.
30 Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,—'Ladies,'
Fair ladies,—I would wish you,'—or 'I would request you,'—or 'I would entreat you,-not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
41 Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.
Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.
Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement.
51 Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk though the chink of a wall.
Snout. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
Bot. Some man or other must present Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake : and so every one according to his cue.
Enter PUCK behind. Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering
here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen ? What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
70 And actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby stand forth.
odours savours sweet :
[Exit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. (Exit. Flu. Must I speak now?
Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, 82
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,
As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
Quin. 'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all.
Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, 'never tire.'
90 Flu. 0,--As true as truest horse, that yet would never