Act V
Scene I
Athens. The palace of Theseus.
Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, Lords, and Attendants. | |
Hippolyta | ’Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. |
Theseus |
More strange than true: I never may believe
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Hippolyta |
But all the story of the night told over,
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Theseus | Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. |
Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena. | |
Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love
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Lysander |
More than to us
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Theseus |
Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
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Philostrate | Here, mighty Theseus. |
Theseus |
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
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Philostrate |
There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
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Theseus |
Reads. “The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
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Philostrate |
A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
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Theseus | What are they that do play it? |
Philostrate |
Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
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Theseus | And we will hear it. |
Philostrate |
No, my noble lord;
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Theseus |
I will hear that play;
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Hippolyta |
I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged
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Theseus | Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. |
Hippolyta | He says they can do nothing in this kind. |
Theseus |
The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
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Re-enter Philostrate. | |
Philostrate | So please your grace, the Prologue is address’d. |
Theseus | Let him approach. Flourish of trumpets. |
Enter Quince for the Prologue. | |
Prologue |
If we offend, it is with our good will.
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Theseus | This fellow doth not stand upon points. |
Lysander | He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. |
Hippolyta | Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. |
Theseus | His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? |
Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion. | |
Prologue |
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
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Theseus | I wonder if the lion be to speak. |
Demetrius | No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. |
Wall |
In this same interlude it doth befall
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Theseus | Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? |
Demetrius | It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. |
Re-enter Pyramus. | |
Theseus | Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! |
Pyramus |
O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!
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Theseus | The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. |
Pyramus | No, in truth, sir, he should not. “Deceiving me” is Thisby’s cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. |
Re-enter Thisbe. | |
Thisbe |
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
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Pyramus |
I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
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Thisbe | My love thou art, my love I think. |
Pyramus |
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace:
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Thisbe | And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. |
Pyramus | Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. |
Thisbe | As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. |
Pyramus | O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! |
Thisbe | I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all. |
Pyramus | Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway? |
Thisbe | ’Tide life, ’tide death, I come without delay. Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. |
Wall |
Thus have I, Wall, my part dischargèd so;
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Theseus | Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. |
Demetrius | No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. |
Hippolyta | This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. |
Theseus | The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. |
Hippolyta | It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. |
Theseus | If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. |
Re-enter Lion and Moonshine. | |
Lion |
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
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Theseus | A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. |
Demetrius | The very best at a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw. |
Lysander | This lion is a very fox for his valour. |
Theseus | True; and a goose for his discretion. |
Demetrius | Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. |
Theseus | His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. |
Moonshine | This lantern doth the horned moon present;— |
Demetrius | He should have worn the horns on his head. |
Theseus | He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. |
Moonshine |
This lantern doth the horned moon present;
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Theseus | This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i’ the moon? |
Demetrius | He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff. |
Hippolyta | I am aweary of this moon: would he would change! |
Theseus | It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. |
Lysander | Proceed, Moon. |
Moonshine | All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. |
Demetrius | Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. |
Enter Thisbe. | |
Thisbe | This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love? |
Lion | Roaring. O—Thisbe runs off. |
Demetrius | Well roared, Lion. |
Theseus | Well run, Thisbe. |
Hippolyta | Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. The Lion shakes Thisbe’s mantle, and exit. |
Theseus | Well moused, Lion. |
Lysander | And so the lion vanished. |
Demetrius | And then came Pyramus. |
Re-enter Pyramus. | |
Pyramus |
Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
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Theseus | This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. |
Hippolyta | Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. |
Pyramus |
O, wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
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Demetrius | No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. |
Lysander | Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. |
Theseus | With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass. |
Hippolyta | How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? |
Theseus | She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. |
Re-enter Thisbe. | |
Hippolyta | Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. |
Demetrius | A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us. |
Lysander | She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. |
Demetrius | And thus she means, videlicet:— |
Thisbe |
Asleep, my love?
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Theseus | Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. |
Demetrius | Ay, and Wall too. |
Bottom | Starting up. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? |
Theseus | No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. A dance. |
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
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Enter Puck. | |
Puck |
Now the hungry lion roars,
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Enter Oberon and Titania with their train. | |
Oberon |
Through the house give glimmering light,
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Titania |
First, rehearse your song by rote,
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Oberon |
Now, until the break of day,
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Puck |
If we shadows have offended,
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