Hip.
No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard
It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Vnless you can finde sport in their intents,
Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine,
To doe you seruice.
Thes.
I will heare that play. For neuer any thing
Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it.
Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies.
Hip.
I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged;
And duty in his seruice perishing.
Thes.
Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hip.
He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde.
Thes.
The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed
To greete me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiz’d accent in their feares,
And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete,
Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome:
And in the modesty of fearefull duty,
I read as much, as from the ratling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity,
In least, speake most, to my capacity.
Egeus.
So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest.
Duke.
Let him approach. Flor. Trum.
Enter the Prologue.Quince.
If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should thinke, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despight.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight,
We are not heere. 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.
Thes.
This fellow doth not stand vpon points.
Lys.
He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true.
Hip.
Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment.
Thes.
His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.
Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show,
But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine.
This man is Piramus, if you would know;
This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine.
This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder:
And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content
To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne,
Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know,
By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne
To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe:
This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name)
The trusty Thisby, comming first by night,
Did scarre away, or rather did affright:
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine.
Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall,
And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade,
He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast,
And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine,
At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.
Exit all but Wall.
Thes.
I wonder if the Lion be to speake.
Deme.
No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.
Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.
Wall.
In this same Interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall:
And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke,
That had in it a crannied hole or chinke:
Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie
Did whisper often, very secretly.
This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew,
That I am that same Wall; the truth is so.
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper.
Thes.
Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake better?
Deme.
It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard discourse, my Lord.
Thes.
Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence.
Enter Pyramus.
Pir.
O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke,
O night, which euer art, when day is not:
O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke,
I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot.
And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall,
That stands between her fathers ground and mine,
Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall,
Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine.
Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this.
But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse,
Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee.
Thes.
The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should curse againe.
Pir.
No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me,
Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy
Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall.
Enter Thisbie.
This.
O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones,
For parting my faire Piramus, and me
My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones;
Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee
Pyra.
I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke,
To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie?
This.
My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke
Pir.
Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace,
And like Limander am I trusty still
This.
And like Helen till the Fates me kill
Pir.
Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true
This.
As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
Pir. O
