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Enter QUINCE for the Prologue,
Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will.
We do not come as minding to content you,
To whisper, at the which let no man wonder. This man, with lanthorn, 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.
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Puramus, 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, 150 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.
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, 160 Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone doth show 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.
Dem. It is the wittiest parition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! Enter PYRAMUS.
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!
This. My love thou art my love, I think. Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; 140 And, like Limander, am I trusty still.
This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. 200
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
This. O wall full often hast thou heard my moans,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. Pyr. I see a voice: now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby !
This. Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBE. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth yo. Exit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
Hip. This is the silliest stuff that e'er I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
The. 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
The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
231 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. 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 listen to the moon.
Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern ; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame, Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear? Which is no, no—which was the fairest dame That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better: he for a
This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet:
shines with a good grace.
Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak! Quite dumb? Dead, dead! A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip checks,
His eyes were green as leeks.
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword;
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train.
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.
Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote,
Shall upon their children be.
And each several chamber bless, Through this palace with sweet peace; And the owner of it blest,
Ever shall in safety rest.
Make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train.
Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 410 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,
And Robin shall restore amends.
SCENE I.-Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad :
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies with portly sail. Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, Do overpeer the petty traffickers, That court'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings. Salan. 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.
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants
SCENE.-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.
Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harm a wind too great might do at sea. I 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,
TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.
LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock.
Servants to Portia.
PORTIA, a rich Heiress. NERISSA, her Waiting-maid. JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.
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
Ant. 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 merchandise makes me not sad. Salar. Why, then you are in love.
Fie, fie! Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
Because you are not merry; and 'twere as easy For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headea Janus,
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so ?
Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio;
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
| Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
We two will leave you; but at dinner-time,
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
Buss. In my school-days, when I had lost one
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but
To wind about my love with circumstance;
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner- For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors; and her sunny locks
Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at
Neither have I money, nor commodity
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
Gra. Well,keepme company but two years more, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible.
Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same
Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
SCENE II.-Belmont. A Room in PORTIA'S
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.