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Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout and Starveling.
The Queen of Fairies lying asleep.
Bot. Are we all met?
Quin. Pat, pat! and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke.
Bot. Peter Quince.
Quin. What say'st thou, Bully Bottom?
Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisby, that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself, which the Ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout. By'rlaken, a parlous fear!
Starv. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Bot. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well; write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for more better assurance tell them, that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.
Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue, and it shall be written in eight and six.
Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
Snout. Will not the Ladies be afraid of the Lion?
Starv. I fear it, I promise you.
Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves; to bring in, heaven shield us! a Lion among Ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wildfowl than your Lion, living; and we ought to look to it.
Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a Lion.
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect: Ladies, or fair Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat you, not to fear, not to tremble; my life for yours; if you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life; no, I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly, He is Snug the Joiner.
Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the moon-light into a chamber; for you know Pyramus and Thisby met by moon-light.
Snug. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
Bot. A kalendar, a kalendar! look into the almanack; find out moon-shine, find out moon-shine.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.
Bot. Why then may you leave 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 throns and a lanthern; and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person of moon-shine. 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.
Snug. 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 loome, or some rough-cast, about him, to signify wall: Or let him hold his fingers thus, and through the 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; and when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake, and so every one according to his cue.
Enter Puck.
Puck. What hempen homespuns have we swaggering
here, so near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
What, a play tow'rd; I'll be an auditor;
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause.
Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
Pyr. Thisby, the flower of odious savours sweet.
Quin. Odours, odours.
Pyr. Odours savours sweet;
So doth thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear:
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here a while,
And by-and-by I will to thee appear,
Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play'd here!
[Aside.
Now for a storm to drive these patches hence.
[He waves his wand.] Thunder and Lightning.
Quin. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted:
Pray masters, fly masters, help!
[Exeunt Clowns.
Puck. I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round,
Thro' bog, thro' bush, thro' brake, thro' briar;
Sometimes a horse I'll be, sometimes a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometimes a fire,
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
[Exit.
Enter Bottom.
Bot. Why do they let a little thunder frighten them away? 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,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle, with his note so true,
The wren with little quill.
Queen. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
Bot. (Sings.) The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckow grey,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay.
Queen. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again,
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note;
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape,
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
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.
Queen. 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.
Queen. 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 flow'rs doth sleep;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so,
That thou shalt like an airy Spirit go.
Peaseblossom, Cob, Moth, Mustardseed!
Enter Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, Four Fairies.
Pease. Ready.
Cob. And I.
Moth. And I.
Must. And I. Where shall we go?
Queen. Be kind and courteous to this Gentleman;
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricots and dewberries;
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey-bags steal from the humble bees,
And for night-tapers, crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worms eyes,
To have my love to-bed, and to arise:
Nod to him, Elves, and do him courtesies.
Pease. Hail, mortal, hail!
Cob. Hail!
Moth. Hail!
Queen. Come, wait upon him, lead him to my bow'r.
The moon, methinks, looks with a watry eye,
And when she weeps, weep ev'ry little flower,
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt.