And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly
And bless it to all fair prosperity.

Obe.

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There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Robin. Fairy king, attend, and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
Then, my queen, in silence sad
Trip we after the night's shade.
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.
Come, my lord, and in our flight
Tell me how it came this night
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground.
[Exeunt. Horns winded (within].
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and all
his train.

Tita.

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I pray you all, stand up. I know you two are rival enemies; How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here.

But, as I think, for truly would I speak, And now I do bethink me, so it is,

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I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
Without the peril of the Athenian law-

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,

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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,

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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 [is] the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
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,

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Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia;
But like a sickness did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do 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 purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens; three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta.

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[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 every thing seems double.

So methinks;

Hel. And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own.

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Dem. Are you sure that we 're awake? It

And by the way let us recount our dreams. [Exeunt lovers. Bot. (Awaking.) When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, "Most fair Pyramus." Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! [205 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 [210 go about to expound this dream. Methought I was- there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had,- but man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not [215 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. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall be called Bottom's [220 Dream, because it hath 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. [Exit.

[SCENE II. Athens. Quince's house.] Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVE

LING.

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.

Snug. Masters, the Duke is coming from [15 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'll be hang'd. He would have deserved it. Sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter BOTTOM.

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Bot. Where are these lads? Where are these hearts? Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! 0 most happy hour!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders, but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no 30 true Athenian. I will tell you everything, right as it fell out.

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your [ apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferr'd. In

any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, [41 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! [5 [Exeunt.

ACT V

[SCENE I. Athens. The palace of Theseus.] Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords [and Attendants].

Hip. 'T is 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;

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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 15 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 suppos'd a bear!

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Hip. But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images, And grows to something of great constancy; But, howsoever, strange and admirable. Enter lovers, LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA.

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

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,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted. 6
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;

For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehears'd, 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?
Phil. Hard-handed men that work in Athens
here,

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Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.
The. And we will hear it.
Phil.

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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 Philostrate.] Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'er

charged,

And duty in his service perishing.

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The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no

such thing.

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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 practis'd 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-ti'd simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity.

[Re-enter PHILOSTRATE.]

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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.

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Hip. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

The. His speech was like a tangled chain; [125 nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter with a trumpet before them, PYRAMUS and THISBE, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION.

Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;

But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.

This man is Pyramus, if you would know; 130
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth pre-

sent

Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;

And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are

content

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To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn

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To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright; And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, 145 And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain; Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,

He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,

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

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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, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly.

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This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone doth

show

That I am that same wall; the truth is so ;

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.

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Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear

The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,

May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
"hen know that I, one Snug the joiner, am 226
A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 't were pity on my life.

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good [230 conscience.

Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.

The. True; and a goose for his discretion. [235 Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose.

The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well; leave it to his discretion, and let us [240 hearken to the moon.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present;

Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.

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The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present;

Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest. The man should be put into the lantern. [251 How is it else the man i' the moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.

Hip. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!

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The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. Lys. Proceed, Moon.

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Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I, the man i' the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, [265 silence! here comes Thisbe.

Enter THISBE.

This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?

Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;

I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!

But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?

O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stain'd with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,

Cut thread and thrum ;

Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

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The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look