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Claud. Another Hero?
D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead! Leon. She died my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify;
Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Bene. Do not you love me?
No, no more than reason. Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio,
Beat. I would not deny you; — but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.
Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.
Have been deceived; for they swore you did.
Beat. Do not you love me?
Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear, you did.
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure your love the gentleman.
Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves her; For here's a paper, written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.
And here's another. Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts! - Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
[Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man?
Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of witcrackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do propose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. · For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.
THESEUS, Duke of Athens.
PHILOSTRATE, master of the revels to Theseus.
QUINCE, the carpenter.
BOTTOM, the weaver.
in love with Hermia.
SNOUT, the tinker. STARVELING, the tailor.
HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus.
HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander. HELENA, in love with Demetrius.
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants.
SCENE, ATHENS, and a Wood not far from it.
OBERON, king of the fairies.
- Athens. A Room in the Palace of Enter EGEUS, Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.
Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; Turn melancholy forth to funerals, The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Erit PHILOSTRATE. Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.
characters in the Interlude perform. by the Clowns.
Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta.
Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee?
Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius ; My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her: Stand forth, Lysander; -and, my gracious duke, This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child: Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats; messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth : With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart; Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, To stubborn harshness: :- And, my gracious duke, Be it so she will not here before your grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens; As she is mine, I may dispose of her: Which shall be either to this gentleman,
Or to her death; according to our law,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
The. Take time to pause; and, by the next new
(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For aye, austerity and single life.
Ege. Scornful Lysander! true he hath my love;
Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
The. I must confess, that I have heard so much,
My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
I have some private schooling for you both.
[Exeunt THES. HIP. EGE. DEM. and train. Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale?
- And, Lysander, I have a widow aunt, a dowager
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
Her. Belike for want of rain; which I could well
Lys. Ah me! for ought that ever I could read,
Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low!
Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edíct in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross;
As due to love, as thoughts and dreams, and sighs,
Lys. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me
My good Lysander !
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves ;
When the false Trojan under sail was seen;
Her. God speed fair Helena! Whither away ? Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,,
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my smiles
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;
O then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell!
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: To-morrow night when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, (A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) Through Athen's gates have we devis'd to steal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet; There my Lysander and myself shall meet: And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us, And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers' food, till morrow deep midnight. [Exit HERM. Lys. I will, my Hermia. Helena adieu : As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
Hel. How happy some, o'er other some can be!
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
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
Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Py
Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus: for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?
Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Quin. Why, what you will.
Star. Here, Peter Quince.
Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purmother. Tom Snout, the tinker. ple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour Snout. Here, Peter Quince. beard, your perfect yellow.
Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, 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. Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced.—But, masters; here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by tomorrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light; there will we rehearse for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you fail me not.
Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
Quin. At the duke's oak we meet.
Bot. Enough; Hold, or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt.
Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
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.
Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, Let him roar again, Let him roar again.
Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. All. That would hang us every mother's son.
Thorough bush, thorough briar, $
Over park, over pale,
A Wood near Athens.
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
In those freckles live their savours:
Take heed, the queen come not within his sight.
And now they never meet in grove, or green,
Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite,
Thou speak'st aright;
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and