Lys. Pardon, my lord. The. [He and the rest kneel to THESEUS. Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly, I came with Hermia hither: our intent Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: I beg the law, the law upon his head. They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me: You, of your wife; and me, of my consent; Is only Helena. To her, my lord, The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: -- [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. Hel. So methinks: And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Dem. It seems to me, Do not you think, That yet we sleep, we dream. 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. answer: As they go out, BOTTOM awakes. Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and I will my next 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. Methought 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. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's 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. A Room in Quince's House. 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'll be hang'd; he would have deserved it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing. Enter BOTTOM. Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts? Quin. Bottom! - O most courageous day! O most happy hour! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing 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 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 garlick, 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, [Exeunt. away. 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, One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; That is, the madman: the lover all as frantick, 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. 5 Are made of mere imagination. |