As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child: There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; There will I stay for thee. Her. My good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; By the simplicity of Venus' doves; By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; Lys. Keep promise, love: look, here comes Helena. Enter Helena. Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away? Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars t; and your tongue's sweet air More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching; O were favour* so! Your's would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, O, teach me how you look; and with what art Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection move! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Her. Take comfort; he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place.- O then, what graces in my love do dwell, Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass Countenance. And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, [Exit Lysander. Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be! Things base and vile, holding no quantity, [Exit. f SCENE II. The same. A room in a Cottage. Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, Quince, and Starveling. Quin. Is all our company here? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is-The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.-Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll: Masters, spread yourselves. Quin. Answer, as I call you.-Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and ceed. proQuin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyra mus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest:-Yet my chief humour is VOL. II. F for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. "The raging rocks, "With shivering shocks, "Shall shine from far, "And make and mar "The foolish fates." This was lofty!-Now naine the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein; a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You must take Thisby on you. Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I'll speak in a monstrous little voice;-Thisne, Thisne.-Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear! Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father;-Saug, the joiner, you, the lion's part:-and, I hope, here is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. |