More witnesseth than fancy's images And grows to something of great constancy; The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA. Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts! Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! 30 The. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours The. Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight? Phil. There is a brief how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your highness will see first. 40 [Giving a paper. The. [Reads] The battle with the Centaurs, to 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 [Reads] The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.' That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. 50 [Reads] A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! How shall we find the concord of this discord? 60 Phil. 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, For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. The. What are they that do play it? Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, The. And we will hear it. Phil. No, my noble lord; The. I will hear that play; For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. 70 80 [Exit Philostrate. Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged 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. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed I read as much as from the rattling tongue Re-enter PHILOSTRATE. Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd. The. Let him approach. 90 100 [Flourish of trumpets. Enter QUINCE for the Prologue. Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. 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. I 1.0 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. 121 Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Enter PYRAMUS and THISBE, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION. Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, 130 140 150 [Exeunt Prologue, 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, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. 160 The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Enter PYRAMUS. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! 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 mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 170 Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. 181 Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving 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. This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my 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. |