Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law upon his head.-

They would have stolen away, they would, Demetrius,
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,t
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.

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we more will hear 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 in great solemnity.

Come, Hippolyta.

[Exeunt THE. HIP. EGE. and train.

Dem. These things seem small, and undistinguishable, Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Her. Methinks, I see these things with parted eye, When everything seems double.

Hel. So methinks:

And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,

Mine own and not mine own.

Dem. It seems to me,

That yet we sleep, we dream.-Do not you think,

The duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Her. Yea; and my father.

Hel. And Hippolyta

Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.

Dem. Why then, we are awake: let's follow him; And, by the way, let us recount our dreams.

[Exeunt.

As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my text is, Most fair Pyramus.-Hey, ho!-Peter Quince! Flute,

the bellows-mender! 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. Me-
thought 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.
of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's dream, because it hath
I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad
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.

SCENE II.-Athens. A Room in QUINCE's House.

[Exit.

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 handycraft 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'l be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyra

mus, or nothing.

Enter BOTTOM.

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

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! 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.

duke hath dined: Get your apparel together; good strings to All that I will tell you, is, that the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the

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 garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt, but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words; away; go away. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I-The same. An Apartment in the Palace of THESEUS.

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and
Attendants.

Hip. Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
The. 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 frantic,

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,

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.—

Joy, gentle friends! joy, and fresh days of love

Accompany your hearts!

Lys. More than to us

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

The. Come now; what masks, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours, Between our after-supper and bed-time? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand? Is there no play,

* Are made of mere imagination.

† Stability.

To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

Philost. Here, mighty Theseus.

The. Say, what abridgment* have you for this evening?
What mask? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

Philost. There is a brief,t how many sports are ripe;
Make choice of which your highness will see first.[ 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.

The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
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.

A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief?
That is, hot ice, and wonderous 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.

The. What are they that do play it?

Philost. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now;,
And now have toil'd their unbreathedt memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

The. And we will hear it.

Philost. 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 sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain,

To do you service.

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. [Exit PHILOS.

* Pastime..

† Short account

* Unexercised.

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.
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 purposed
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 pick'd 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.* The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.

Enter PROLOGUE.

Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will,
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show 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.

The. 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.

The. 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.

Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show;

But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.

This man is Pyramus, if you would know;

66

This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain.

* Ready..

+ A musical instrument.