The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

mirth?

What revels are in hand? Is there no play To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?

Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus.

THESEUS. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?

What masque? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe; Make choice of which your Highness will see first.

[Giving a paper]

THESEUS. ‘The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.’

We’ll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules.

‘The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.’

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!

That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow.

How shall we find the concord of this discord?

PHILOSTRATE. 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.

THESEUS. What are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labour’d in their minds till now; And now have toil’d their unbreathed memories With this same play against your nuptial.

THESEUS. And we will hear it.

PHILOSTRATE. 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.

THESEUS. I will hear that play;

For never anything can be amiss

When simpleness and duty tender it.

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

Exit PHILOSTRATE

HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged, And duty in his service perishing.

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.

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 purposed 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.

 

Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

 

PHILOSTRATE. SO please your Grace, the Prologue is address’d.

THESEUS. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets]

 

Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE

 

PROLOGUE. 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 band; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know, 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 play’d on this prologue like a child on a recorder-a sound, but not in government.

THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im paired, but all disordered. Who is next?

 

Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show, PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION

 

PROLOGUE. 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 Walls chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.

This man, with lanthorn, 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 Lion hight by name, 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, PYRAMUS, THISBY, LION, and MOONSHINE

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 That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall as I would have you think That had in it a crannied 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.

THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

 

Enter PYRAMUS

 

THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.

PYRAMUS. O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!

O night, which ever art when day is not!

O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot!

And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show 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 what see I? No Thisby do I see.

O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Curs’d he thy stones for thus deceiving me!

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.

 

Enter THISBY

 

THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou beard 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.

PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby’s face.

Thisby!

THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think.

PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace; And like Limander am I trusty still.

THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.

THISBY. I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.

PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?

THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.

Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY

WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit WALL

THESEUS. Now is the moon used 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.

 

Enter LION and MOONSHINE

 

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.

Then know that I as 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.

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 lanthorn 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 lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the Man i’ th’ Moon do seem to be.

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’ th’ 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.

MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the Man i’ th’ 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 Thisby.

 

Re-enter THISBY

 

THISBY. This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?

LION. [Roaring] O- [THISBY runs off]

DEMETRIUS. Well roar’d, Lion.

THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.

HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. [The LION tears THISBY’S Mantle, and exit]

THESEUS. Well mous’d, Lion.

 

Re-enter PYRAMUS

 

DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.

LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish’d.

PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.

But stay, O spite!

But mark, poor knight,

What dreadful dole is here!

Eyes,