That is some satire, keen and critical, A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus, Which is as brief as I have known a play; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself; 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; No, my noble lord, The. I will hear that play; For never any thing 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'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing. The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 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, WALI, MOONSHINE, and LION, as in dumb show. Prol. "Gentles, perchance, you wonder at this show; "But wonder on, till truth makes all things plain. "This man is Pyramus, if you would know; "This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain. "This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present "Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder: "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 by name lion hight, "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. 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, "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." The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Dem. It is the wittiest partition 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, "I fear my Thishy'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!" The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me, is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you:-Yonder she comes. Enter THISBE. This. "O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, "For parting my fair Pyramus and me: "My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones; This. "My love! thou art my love, I think." Pyr. "Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; "And like Limander am I trusty still." This. "And I like Helen, till the fates me kill." This. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all." way ?" This. "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. 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 ever 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 moon 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. "No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: "For if I should as lion come in strife "Into this place, 'twere pity on my life." The. A very gentle beast, and of a good 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. 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. Moon. "This lantern doth the horned moon present:" Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. 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 doth seem to be." The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: 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 weary of this moon: Would, he would change. 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. 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 streams, "I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight. "But stay;-0 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! 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 deflour'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; "Out, sword, and wound "The pap of Pyramus: "Ay, that left pap, "Where heart doth hop: "Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. "Now am I dead, "Now am I fled; "My soul is in the sky: "Tongue, lose thy light! "Moon, take thy flight! "Now die, die, die, die, die." [Dies.-Exit MOONSHINE. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by star-light.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. Enter THISBE. 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. Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.— This. "Asleep, my love? "O Pyramus, arise, "Speak, speak. Quite dumb? "Must cover thy sweet eyes. "Come, come to me, "Lay them in gore, "Come, blade, my breast imbrue : "Adieu, adieu, adieu." [Dies. The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too. Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Burgomask dance between two of our company? The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for, when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Burgomask: let your epilogue alone. [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:- I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, SCENE II-Enter PUCK. Now the wasted brands do glow, [Exeunt. Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching 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; By the triple Hecate's team, To sweep the dust behind the door. Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train. Hop as light as bird from brier; Sing and dance it trippingly. Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote: To each word a warbling note, SONG and DANCE. Obe. Now, until the break of day, So shall all the couples three And the blots of nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand; Shall upon their children be.- Every fairy take his gate; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace: 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,) Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, Else the Puck a liar call. We will make amends ere long : SCENE I.-Navarre.-A Park, with a Palace in it. That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names; If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do, Long. I am resolv'd: 'tis but a three years' fast; [Subscribes. Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified; The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves: To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; With all these living in philosophy. [Subscribes. Biron. I can but say their protestation over, King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. I only swore to study with your grace, King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know. Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from com mon sense? King. Ay, that is study's god-like recompense. Biron. Come on then, I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know; As thus-To study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or, study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid: Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study knows that which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say, no. King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight. Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain: To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile : By fixing it upon a fairer eye; That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights, Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name. King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding. Fit in his place and time. Dum. How follows that? Before the birds have any cause to sing? Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows; But like of each thing that in season grows. So you, to study now it is too late, Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron; adieu. Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you: And, though I have for barbarism spoke more, And bide the penance of each three years' day. Give me the paper: let me read the same; Biron. [Reads.] Item, That no woman shall come Four days ago. Biron. Let's see the penalty. [Reads.]-On pain of losing her tongue. Who devis'd this penalty? Long. Marry, that did I. . Biron. Sweet lord, and why? Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty. Biron. A dangerous law against gentility. [Reads.] Item, If any man be seen to talk with a roman, within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise. This article, my liege, yourself must break; For, well you know, here comes in embassy The French king's daughter, with yourself to speak,A maid of grace and complete majesty, About surrender-up of Aquitain To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: Therefore this article is made in vain ; Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. Biron. So study evermore is overshot; H 'Tis won, as towns with fire so won, so lost. King. We must, of force, dispense with this decree; She must lie here on mere necessity. Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn Three thousand times within this three years' space : For every man with his affects is born; Not by might master'd, but by special grace: If I break faith, this word shall speak for me, I am forsworn on mere necessity. So to the laws at large I write my name: [Subscribes. Suggestions are to others, as to me; But is there no quick recreation granted? King. Ay, that there is: our court, you know, is haunted With a refined traveller of Spain; A man in all the world's new fashion planted, For interim to our studies, shall relate, In high-born words, the worth of many a knight Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. Enter DULL, with a letter, and COSTARD. Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh and blood. Biron. This is he. Dull. Signior Arme-Arme commends you. There is villainy abroad; this letter will tell you more. Long. A high hope for a low having: God grant us patience! Biron. To hear? or forbear hearing? Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to forbear both. Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to climb to the merriness. Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner. Biron. In what manner? Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was seen with her in the manor house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park: which, put together, is, in manner and form following. Now, sir, for the manner, it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,-in some form. Biron. For the following, sir? Cost. As it shall follow in my correction; And God. defend the right! King. Will you hear this letter with attention? Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. King. [Reads.] Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent, and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's God, and body's fostering patron, Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. King. So it is,— beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. So much for the time when; Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped thy park. Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest: But to the place, where.-It standeth north-north-east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: There did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth, King. -with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female: or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me to) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation. Dull. Me, an't shall please you; I am Antony Dull. King. For Jaquenetta, (80 is the weaker vessel called, which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,) I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of duty, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO. Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard. King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this? Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. King. Did you hear the proclamation? Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it. King. It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, to be taken with a wench. Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damosel. King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. Cost. This was no damosel neither, sir; she was a virgin. King. It is so varied, too; for it was proclaimed, virgin. Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity; I was taken with a maid. King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. King. Sir, I will pronounce yeur sentence: You shall fast a week with bran and water. Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge. King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.— [Exeunt KING, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. Biron. I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. Sirrah, come on. Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir: for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again, and, till then, sit thee down, sorrow! [Exeunt. SCENE II.—Another part of the same.—ARMADO'S House. Enter ARMADO and MOTH. Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy? Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. Moth. No, no; O lord, sir, no. Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal? Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior. Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior? Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal? Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender. Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough. Arm. Pretty, and apt. Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty? Arm. Thou pretty, because little. Moth. Little pretty, because little: Wherefore apt? Arm. And therefore apt, because quick. Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master? Arm. In thy condign praise. Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise. Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious? Moth. That an eel is quick. Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers: Thou heatest my blood. Moth. I am answered, sir. Arm. I love not to be crossed. Moth. You may do it in a hour, sir. Moth. How many is one thrice told? Arm. I am ill at reckoning: it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. Moth. You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir. Arm. I confess both; they are both the varnish of a complete man. Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice wink and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you. Arm. A most fine figure! [Aside. Arm. I will hereupon confess I am in love: and, as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I would take desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: What great men have been in love? Moth. Hercules, master. Arm. Most sweet Hercules !-More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet, my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage. Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on his back, like a porter: and he was in love. Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too,-Who was Samson's love, my dear Moth? Moth. A woman, master. Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. Arm. Tell me, precisely, of what complexion? Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too. Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but to have a lover of that colour, methinks, Samson had small reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit. Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit. Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red. Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours. Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me! Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and pathetical! Moth. If she be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known; |