Theseus.

Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hippolyta.

He says they can do nothing in this kind.
Theseus.

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 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-tied simplicity,
In least speak most, to my capacity.

Enter Philostrate Philostrate.

So please your grace, the prologue is addrest.
Theseus.

Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.
Enter the Prologue.
Prologue.

"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." Theseus.

This fellow doth not stand upon points.

This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth pre[sunder;

sent Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content

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

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, 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,

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.

Theseus.

I wonder, if the lion be to speak.

Demetrius.

No wonder, my lord:

One lion may, when many asses do.

Wall.

"In this same interlude, it doth befal, That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. [show This lime, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth That I am that same wall: the truth is so; And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper."

Theseus.

Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Demetrius.

It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord,

Theseus.

Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!
Enter Pyramus.
Pyramus.

"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! 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 Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

Theseus.

The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyramus.

No, in truth, sir, he should not." Deceiving

me,

"As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."

Pyramus.

Moonshine.

wall."

Thisbe.

"I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all."

Pyramus.

"Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?"

Thisbe.

""Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay."

Wall.

"Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go."

Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. Theseus. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

Demetrius.

No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.

Hippolyta.

This is the silliest stuff that e'er I heard.

Theseus.

If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.

Enter Lion and Moonshine.
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.
Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam:
For, if I should as lon come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life."

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

Demetrius.

all these are in the moon. But, silence! here Why, all these should be in the lantern; for comes Thisbe. Enter Thishe. Thisbe. "This is old Ninny's tomb. love?"

Lion.

Where is my

"Oh-.' [The Lion roars.-Thisbe runs ofl. Demetrius.

Well roared, lion.

Enter Oberon and Titania, with all their Train.

Oberon.

Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty after me
Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Titania.

First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand with fairy grace
Will we sing, and bless this place.

THE SONG. Oberon.

Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;

And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand:
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are

Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait,

And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace:
Ever shall in safety rest,
And the owner of it blest.
Trip away make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train.
Puck.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear;
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long.
Else the Puck a liar call:

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

[Exit.

And Robin shall restore amends.

Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salanto.

Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salarino.

My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 1 should not see the sandy hour-glass run, But I should think of shallows and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, Vailing her high top lower than her ribs, To kiss her burial. Should I go to church, And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, Would scatter all her spices on the stream, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, And, in a word, but even now worth this, And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought

To think on this, and shall I lack the thought, That such a thing bechanc'd would make me But, tell not me: I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandize.

Automo

[sad?

Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Upon the fortune of this present year: Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.

Salanio

Why, then you are in love.

Antonio

Salanio.

Fie, fie!

Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad,

Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are
merry,
Janus,
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond, And do a wilful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; As who should say, "I am Sir Oracle, And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!" O! my Antonio, I do know of these, That therefore only are reputed wise, For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, If they should speak, would almost damn those [fools. Which, hearing them, would call their brothers I'll tell thee more of this another time: But fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.Come, good Lorenzo.- Fare ye well, awhile: I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

ears,

Lorenzo.

Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time. I must be one of these same dumb wise men, For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gratiano.

Antonio.

Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.

Gratiano.

Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commend

able

[ible.

Bassanio.

and