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Quin. Here is the fcrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our enterlude before the duke and the dutchefs, on his wedding day at night.

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, fay what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and fo grow on to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and moft cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.

you,

Bot. A very good piece of work, I affure
and a merry.
Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scrowl.
Masters, fpread yourselves.

Quin. Anfwer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and proceed.
Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are fet down for Pyramus.
Bot. What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant?

Quin. A lover that kills himself most gallantly for love.

Bot. That will ask fome tears in the true performing of it; if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move ftorms; I will condole in fome meafure. To the reft:

- yet my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in. To make all split the raging rocks, and shivering Shocks fhall break the locks of prifon-gates- and Phibbus' carr fball fhine from far, and make and mar the foolish fates—This was lofty. Now name the reft 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 wand'ring knight?
Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.

Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman, I have a beard Coming.

Quin. That's all one, you fhall 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

• This was probably a piece of nonsensical bombaft taken out of fome foolish play known at that time.

fpeak

speak in a monstrous little voice, Thisby, Thisby; 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 Snowt, the tinker.

Snowt. Here, Peter Quince.

Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part. I hope, there is a play fitted. Snug. Have you the lion's the lion's part written? pray you, if it be,

give it me, for I am flow of study.

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. 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 fay, let him roar again, let him roar again.

Quin. If you fhould do it too terribly, you would fright the dutchess, and the ladies, that they would fhriek, and that were enough to hang us all.

All. That would hang us every mother's fon.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if 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 fucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale,

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a fweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in a fummer'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. Why, what you will.

Bot. I will discharge it in either your ftraw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your Frenchcrown-colour'd beard, your perfect yellow.

Quin. Some of your French-crowns have no hair at all, and

then

then you will play bare-fac'd. But, mafters, here are your parts; and I am to intreat you, request you, and defire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace-wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light, there we will 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, fuch as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

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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 bowstrings. *

[Exeunt.

***

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The wood.

Enter a Fairy at one door, and Puck (or Robin-goodfellow)

at another.

PUCK.

OW now, spirit, whither wander you?
Fai. Over hill, over dale,

Through bush, through briar,

Over park, over pale,

Through flood, through fire,
1 do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I ferve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowflips tall her penfioners be,
In their gold coats spots you see,
Those be rubies, fairy-favours,

In those freckles live their favours:

A proverbial phrafe fignifying, without fail, or, in all events.

I muft

I must go seek fome dew-drops here and there,
And hang a pearl in every cowflip's ear.
Farewel, thou lob of fpirits, I'll be gone;
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night;
Take heed the queen come not within his fight.
For Oberon is paffing fell and wrath,

Because that the, as her attendant, hath
A lovely boy ftol'n from an Indian king:
She never had fo fweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But the, perforce, withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flow'rs, and makes him all her joy.
And now they never meet in grove, or green,
By fountain clear, or fpangled ftar-light sheen,
But they do fquare, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.

Fai. Or I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite,
Call'd Robin-goodfellow. Are you not he,
That fright the maidens of the villagery,
Skim milk, and fometimes labour in the quern,
And bootlefs make the breathlefs hufwife churn;
And fometime make the drink to bear no barm,
Mislead night-wand'rers, laughing at their harm?
Thofe that Hobgoblin call you, and fweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
Are not you he?

Puck. The fame, thou speak'ft aright;

I am that merry wand'rer of the night :
I jeft to Oberon, and make him fmile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometimes lurk I in a goffip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roafted crab,

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And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.
The wifeft aunt, telling the faddeft tale,
Sometime for three-foot ftool mistaketh me;
Then flip I from her bum, down topples fhe,
And rails, or cries, and falls into a cough;

And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and fwear

A merrier hour was never wafted there.

But make room, fairy, here comes Oberon.

Fai. And here my mistress: would, that he were gone!

SCENE II.

Enter Oberon king of Fairies at one door with his train, and the queen at another with hers.

Ob. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.
Queen. What, jealous Oberon? fairies, skip hence,
I have forfworn his bed and company.

Ob. Tarry, rash wanton, am not I thy lord?
Queen. Then I must be thy lady; but I know
When thou haft ftol'n away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin fat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and verfing love
To am'rous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India?
But that, forfooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd miftrefs, and your warrior love,
To Thefeus must be wedded; and

you come

To give their bed joy and profperity.

Ob. How can'ft thou thus for fhame, Titania,

Glance at my credit with Hippolita,

Knowing I know thy love to Thefeus?

Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night

From Perigyné, whom he ravished,

And make him with fair Ægle break his faith,

VOL. I.

M

With

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