 | A Midsummer Night's Dream |  |
SCENE I.
The Wood-Bower, Duke's Oak—Titania discover'd reclining on the Shoulders of Bottom, who has the Ass's Head on, which is decorated with Flowers: they are surrounded by Peaseblossom, Mustardseed, Moth, Cobweb, and Fairies.Bot.
Cobweb! Monsieur Cobweb!
Cob.
Ready!
Bot.
Good Monsieur, get your weapons, and
kill me a red-hipt humble bee, and bring me the
honey-bag.—Peaseblossom!
Peaseb.
Ready!
Bot.
Scratch my head, Peaseblossom, and you,
Monsieur Mustardseed, help him—I must to the
barber's, Monsieur; for methinks I am marvellously
hairy about the face, and I am such a
tender Ass, if my hair does but tickle me, I must
scratch.
Tit.
Wilt thou have music, my sweet love?
Bot.
No—food!
Tit.
Bring, bring the purple grapes, green figs, and dewberries.
(Peaseblossom, &c. present him the different Fruits.)
Oats! I could munch your good dry oats! or hay!—
Oh! hay! sweet hay has no fellow!
Tit.
I have a venturous Fairy, that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard, and bring thee rare new nuts.
Bot.
I'd rather have a handful or two of dried
pease; but I pray you, let none of your people
stir me—I've an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Tit.
Sleep thou; and, Fairies, tune your softest strains
To lull him to repose.
(Fairies sing Quartetto, during which Titania retires to her Bower, and Bottom goes to sleep on the Bank.)
QUARTETTO—Fairies.—[Bishop.]
Fav'rite of the Fairy Queen!
Zephyrs, play around his face!
Wash, ye dews, his graceful mien!
To fan the moon-beams from his eyes;
Round him in eternal spring,
Grasshoppers merrily sing!
Enter Oberon.
Ober.
So, as good Robin said—poor Titania!
How I lament our mutual jealousy!
But, the boy mine, I'll hasten to undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes;
And next to take this strange transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain,
That he awaking when the others do,
May all to Athens back again repair,
And think no more of this night's accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream!—
Now first I will release the Fairy Queen.
See as thou wast wont to see;
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower,
Has such blessed force and power.
Queen.
My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd, and with form
So strange! so hideous!
Ober.
There lies your love.
Queen.
How came these things to pass?
O how mine eyes do loath this visage now!
Ober.
Silence awhile. Thus I unbind the charm.
(Music, during which, Ass's Head disappears.)
And now, my gentle Queen, take hand with me,
For thou and I are new in amity.
Queen.
Come, my Lord, and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
That I, sleeping here, was found
With this mortal on the ground?
[Exeunt.
[Music.]
Bot.
(Wakes.)
When my cue comes, call me—
my next is,—Most fair Pyramus—Hey ho! Peter
Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the
tinker! Starveling! Gads my life!—Stolen hence,
and left me asleep, and dreaming!—And such a
dream! 'tis past the wit of man to say what I
dreamt!—Methought I was! There's no man can
tell what—Methought I was! and methought I
had!—If man go about to expound this dream,
man is but an ass. The eye of man hath not
heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand
is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor
get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream—
it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath
no bottom.
Enter Quince and Snug, not seeing Bottom.
Quin.
O woeful hour! he's lost! and our play
is lost! for who in all Athens is able to discharge
Pyramus, but he?
Snug.
Ay, he had the best wit, the best person,
and was a very paramour for a sweet voice.
Bot.
(Coming between them)
Say paragon—a
paramour is, God bless us! a thing of nought.
Quin.
O most courageous day! O most happy
hour!
Bot.
Masters, I am to discourse wonders!—ask
me not what—for all I can say is, let our play go
forward—Where's Thisby? Moonshine?
Quin.
Here, here they come in their way to
the tyring-house, with all our properties and stage
moveables. See! thy armour, my sables!
Enter Starveling, Snout, and Flute, bearing in their Hands their respective Stage Properties, such as Wall, Lion's-Skin, Pyramus's Armour, &c.
Bot.
And Wall, Lion, and all our Parfanalia.
Come on.
(Taking their hands.)
Let's instantly
comparison, and replete our rehearsal here—our
last grand buskin'd rehearsal!—Away! and if our
sport end not in our being all made men! say
I'm a knave—a fool—an ass!—No, don't say that,
because—because—Oh head!—Oh Bottom!
(Putting his hand to his Head.)
[Exit with Quince and Snug.
[Horns without.]
CHORUS
—[Bishop.]
Hark! hark! each Spartan hound
With music fills the sky!
And hills and woodlands round,
Re-echo with the cry!
Enter Theseus, Philostrate, and Train, chiefly drest as Hunters.
Thes.
Why ay, such are our Spartan hounds,
The groves, the skies, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry—who ever heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder?
But with the setting sun,
Here end our Sylvan, not our other sports;
No, till the iron-tongue of midnight shall strike twelve,
Still we've a long, long age—three tedious hours.—
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are at hand? Call Philostrate.
Philos.
Here, mighty Theseus.
Thes.
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What mask? what music?—how shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
Philos.
There is a Brief, how many sports are ripe;
Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
[Giving him a Scroll.]
Thes.
(Reading.)
“The Riot of the Tipsy Bacchanals,
That is an old device, and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror.
“The thrice-three Muses mourning for the Death
Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.”
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
“A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus
And his Love, Thisby—very Tragical Mirth!”
Merry and tragical!—tedious and brief.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
Philos.
A play it is, my Lord, some ten words long,
And tragical, my noble Lord, it is,—
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself,
Which, when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water—but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.
Thes.
What are they that do play it?
Philos.
Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories,
With the same play, against your Grace's nuptials.
This is the spot where they rehearse; and, by my faith
They're here! (Looking out)
and dress'd! all in stage-form and character!
Thes.
I see; and I will hear this play—
For never anything can come amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it!—
Give me my cloak.
[Philostrate throws a large Cloak round Theseus.]
Unknown, unseen, I'll view them!
Noble respect takes not in might, but merit.
(Theseus and Train retire behind clumps of Trees, where they are partly seen by the Audience, but not by Characters, who enter.)
Enter Quince, drest in black, a Paper in his hand, which he holds behind him.
Quin.
Prologue.—“If we offend”—One more
peep, to mind my stops—
(looks at Paper)
—so—
clear!
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will.—To shew 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— (pauses, and looks at paper)
,
You should here repent you!
[Bows, and walks up Stage.]
Enter Snout (dressed as Wall.)
Wall.
In this same Interlude it doth befall,
That I, one Snout by name, present a Wall!
And this the cranny is (Holding up fingers)
, right and sinister,
Thro' which fond Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
Enter Snug (dressed as a Lion), and Starveling with a Lanthorn.
Lion.
No Lion I, nor eke no lion's dam,
But, Ladies, know, I Snug the joiner am!
This lanthorn doth the horned Moon present—
Myself the Man in the Moon—that's my intent!
Enter Flute, dressed as Thisbe.
This.
This is the wall, and this the well-known chink—
Oh Pyramus!
(Snout holds up his fingers, and as she is going to peep through them, Lion roars loudly—Thisbe exit hastily, dropping her Mantle—Wall and Lion retire.)
Enter Bottom (dressed as Pyramus.)
Pyr.
Sweet Moon! I thank thee for thy sunny beams,
And for thy gracious, golden, glittering streams.
But stay, Oh spight! but mark, poor knight!
[Seeing Mantle all bloody.]
—What dreadful dole is here?
Eyes, do you see? Oh lov'd Thisbe!
Thy mantle good! thus stain'd with blood!
Oh fates! come, come! cut thread and thrum—
Come tears confound! out sword! and wound!
Now am I fled—now am I dead!
My soul is in the sky!—now die! die! die! die! (Falls.)
(Theseus and Train advance—Bottom not seeing them at first.)
Thes.
Marry, most notably discharg'd,
And that thy efforts may receive reward,
Rise—instant, rise!
Rise!—Why, Thisbe
(half rising)
your
speech begins—
(Theseus and all smile—Bottom at length sees them, but Theseus still having the long Cloak on, Bottom don't know him.)
—How? Whence? Who? Avaunt, invaders!
and don't mar our misrepresentation.
(Rises.)
Without then!—Quince! Starveling!
give aid to clear the stage! to turn out
(in his
rage approaching Theseus, and menacing.)
Philos.
Beware, and know—
Bot.
I do know!—and fir'd with heroic, tragic
ardour, thus my arm—
—Mercy! the King! dead! dead in earnest!
(falls on the Stage at the King's feet.)
Thes.
Dismiss thy terrors, and look up!
Come—
(Bottom tries to look up, but is frightened, and falls flat again.)
To prove we rate not low
Our poorest subjects' loyalty and zeal,
Follow to the palace. Philostrate, conduct them.
See they have cheer and gold—Lead on.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.
[Exeunt Theseus and Train, all but Philostrate.
Pheugh! follow to the palace! see, they
have cheer and gold! Oh! I knew, if I once got
heard as Actor!—Lead on, Philos-stàte!—And this
only to a male audience! but when I die before
the ladies?—Lead on, Philos-stàte!
In nightly revels, and new jollity!
[Exit, imitating the King, and follow'd by Philostrate.
| A Midsummer Night's Dream | |