QUIN. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things, that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. SNOUT. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? BOT. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac ; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. QUIN. Yes, it doth shine that night. BOT. Why, then may you have a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement. QUIN. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall. SNOUT. You can never bring in a wall.-What say you, Bottom? BOT. Some man or other must present Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. QUIN. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts.-Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every one according to his cue. PUCK. (Enter PUCK behind.) What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, QUIN. sweet,― Speak, Pyramus.-Thisby, stand forth. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours QUIN. Odours, odours. So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. (Exit.) PUCK. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here! (Exit) FLU. Must I speak now? QUIN. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. FLU. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. QUIN. 'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all.-Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, ' never tire.' FLU. O,—As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. (Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head.) Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. QUIN. O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help! (Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING.) PUCK. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. (Exit.) BOT. Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard. (Re-enter SNOUT.) SNOUT. O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? BOT. What do you see? you see an ass-head of your own, do you? (Exit SNOUT) (Re-enter QUINCE.) QUIN. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. (Exit) BOT. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. (Sings) The ousel cock so black of hue, The throstle with his note so true, TITA. (Awaking) What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? BOT. (Sings) The finch, the sparrow, and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry cuckoo' never so? TITA. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me BOT. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. TITA. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. BOT. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough. to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. TITA. Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate: The summer still doth tend upon my state; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me. I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep: And I will purge thy mortal grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.— (TITANIA leads BOTTOм out.) CURTAIN. PSYCHE. The second stage, the childhood of the soul: Of infancy give place to merry laughter, For care-free mirth makes all life's path-way bright. Let those brief years be precious to remember- To play again for us their merry-making, (Merrying-making scene from "Twelfth Night:) (ACT 1, SCENE 3, ACT 2, Scene 4.) (SCENE I. OLIVIA's house.) (Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA.) SIR TO. What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. MAR. By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. SIR TO. Why, let her except before excepted. MAR. Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. SIR TO. Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. MAR. That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a fool |