Phi. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long; Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long; Which makes it tedious for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted. 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.

The. What are they, that do play it?

Phi. 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 this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it.

Phi. No, my noble lord,

It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel pain
To do you service.

The. I will hear that play;

For never any thing can be amiss,

When simpleness and duty tender it.

Go, bring them in ;-and take your places, ladies.

[Exit Philostrate, L. Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing.

The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this kind.

The. The kinder we to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty cannot do,

Noble respect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have proposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue

Of saucy and audacious eloquence.

Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity,
In least, speak most, to my capacity.

Enter PHILOSTRATE, L.

Phi. So please your grace, the prologue is address'd. The. Let him approach.

[Flourish of trumpets.

Enter PROLOGUE, L.

Pro. (L.) If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show 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 you should here repent you, The actors are at hand; and, by their show, You shall know all that you are like to know.' The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.

Lys. 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.

Hip. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue, like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter PYRAMUS and THISBE, WALL, MOONSHINE, and
LION, as in dumb show, L.

Pro. 'Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;

This beauteous lady, Thisby is, certain.

This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall which did these lovers sunder
And through wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper; at the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine, did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which by name lion hight,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,

Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,

Which lion vile, with bloody mouth, did stain ;
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain.
Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died.

For all the rest,
Let lion, moonshine, wall, and lovers twain,

At large discourse, while here they do remain.'

[Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion and Moonshine, L. The. I wonder if the lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my lord; one lion may, asses do.

when many

Wall. In this same interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.

This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so :

And this the cranny is, right and sinister,

Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.'
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.

The. Pyramus draws near the wall.-Silence!

Pyr. Oh, grim-look'd night! oh night, with hue so black!

Oh, night, which ever art, when day is not!
Oh, night, oh, night! alack, alack, alack!
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!-
And thou, oh wall, oh sweet, oh lovely wall,

That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! Thou wall, oh wall, oh sweet and lovely wall,

how me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall! Jove shield thee well for this! But what see I? no Thisby do I see.

Oh, wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me!'

The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Pyr. 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.

Enter THISBE, R.

Thi. Oh, wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!

My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones-
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.'
Pyr. I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
To spy, an I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby !'

Thi. My love! thou art my love, I think.'

Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace : And, like Limander, am I trusty still.'

Thi. And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.'

Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.'

Thi. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.'

Pyr. Oh, kiss me, through the hole of this vile wall.' Thi. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.'

Pyr. Wilt thou, at Ninny's tomb, meet me straightway ?'

Thi. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.' Wall. Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go.'

[Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, and Thisbe, L. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Hip. It must be your imagination, then, and not theirs. The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. come two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.

Enter LION and MOONSHINE, R.

Here

Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, When lion rough, in wildest rage, doth roar.

F

Then know, that I, one Snug, the joiner, am

A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam;

For, if I should, as lion, come in strife

Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.'

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.

The. True; and a goose for his discretion.

Dem. Not so, my lord, for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

The. 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.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present.' Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i'the moon doth seem to be.'

The. 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?

Dem. He dares not come there for candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.

Hip. I am aweary of this moon-'would, he would change!

The. 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,

Lys. Proceed, moon.

Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon-I, the man i'the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for they are in the moon. But, silence, here comes Thisbe.

Enter THISBE, L.

Thi. This is old Ninny's tomb-where is my love?'
Lion. Oh-' [The Lion roars.-Thisbe runs off, L.
Dem. Well roared, lion.
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, moon.

with a good grace.

The. Well moused, lion.

Truly, the moon shines

[Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, exit, L.