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BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do `
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any `
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man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the `
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Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.' `
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QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the `
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Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were `
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enough to hang us all. `
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ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son. `
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BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies `
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out `
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of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang `
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us; `
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but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as `
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gently `
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as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any `
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nightingale. `
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QUINCE. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a `
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sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's `
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day; a most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must `
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needs `
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play Pyramus. `
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BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to `
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play `
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it in? `
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QUINCE. Why, what you will. `
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BOTTOM. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, `
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your `
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orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your `
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French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. `
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QUINCE. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and `
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then `
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you will play bare-fac'd. But, masters, here are your parts; `
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and `
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I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them `
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by `
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to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile `
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without `
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the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we `
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meet in `
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the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices `
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known. `
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In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our `
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play wants. I pray you, fail me not. `
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BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely `
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and `
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courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu. `
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QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet. `
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BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings. Exeunt `
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<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM `
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SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS `
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PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY `
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WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE `
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ACT II. SCENE I. `
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A wood near Athens `
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Enter a FAIRY at One door, and PUCK at another `
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PUCK. How now, spirit! whither wander you? `
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FAIRY. Over hill, over dale, `
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Thorough bush, thorough brier, `
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Over park, over pale, `
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Thorough flood, thorough fire, `
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I do wander every where, `
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Swifter than the moon's sphere; `
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And I serve the Fairy Queen, `
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To dew her orbs upon the green. `
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The cowslips tall her pensioners be; `
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In their gold coats spots you see; `
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Those be rubies, fairy favours, `
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In those freckles live their savours. `
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I must go seek some dewdrops here, `
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And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. `
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Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone. `
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Our Queen and all her elves come here anon. `
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PUCK. The King doth keep his revels here to-night; `
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Take heed the Queen come not within his sight; `
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For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, `
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Because that she as her attendant hath `
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A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king. `
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She never had so sweet a changeling; `
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And jealous Oberon would have the child `
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Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; `
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But she perforce withholds the loved boy, `
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Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy. `
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And now they never meet in grove or green, `
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By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, `
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But they do square, that all their elves for fear `
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Creep into acorn cups and hide them there. `
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FAIRY. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, `
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Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite `
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Call'd Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he `
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That frights the maidens of the villagery, `
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Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, `
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And bootless make the breathless housewife churn, `
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And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, `
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Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? `
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Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, `
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You do their work, and they shall have good luck. `
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Are not you he? `
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PUCK. Thou speakest aright: `
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I am that merry wanderer of the night. `
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I jest to Oberon, and make him smile `
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When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, `
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Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; `
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And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl `
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In very likeness of a roasted crab, `
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And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, `
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And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. `
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The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, `
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Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; `
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Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, `
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And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; `
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And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, `
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And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear `
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A merrier hour was never wasted there. `
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But room, fairy, here comes Oberon. `
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FAIRY. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! `
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Enter OBERON at one door, with his TRAIN, and TITANIA, `
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at another, with hers `
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OBERON. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. `
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TITANIA. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence; `
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I have forsworn his bed and company. `
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OBERON. Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord? `
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TITANIA. Then I must be thy lady; but I know `
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When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, `
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And in the shape of Corin sat all day, `
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Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love `
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To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, `
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Come from the farthest steep of India, `
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But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, `
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Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, `
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To Theseus must be wedded, and you come `
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To give their bed joy and prosperity? `
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OBERON. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania, `
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Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, `
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Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? `
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Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night `
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From Perigouna, whom he ravished? `
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And make him with fair Aegles break his faith, `
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With Ariadne and Antiopa? `
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TITANIA. These are the forgeries of jealousy; `
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And never, since the middle summer's spring, `
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Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, `
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By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, `
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Or in the beached margent of the sea, `
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To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, `
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But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. `
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Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, `
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As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea `
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Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land, `
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Hath every pelting river made so proud `
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That they have overborne their continents. `
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The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, `
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The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn `
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Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; `
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The fold stands empty in the drowned field, `
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And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; `
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The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, `
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And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, `
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For lack of tread, are undistinguishable. `
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The human mortals want their winter here; `
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No night is now with hymn or carol blest; `
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, `
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Pale in her anger, washes all the air, `
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That rheumatic diseases do abound. `
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And thorough this distemperature we see `
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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts `
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Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; `
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And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown `
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An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds `
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Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, `
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The childing autumn, angry winter, change `
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Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world, `
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By their increase, now knows not which is which. `
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And this same progeny of evils comes `
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From our debate, from our dissension; `
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We are their parents and original. `
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OBERON. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you. `
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Why should Titania cross her Oberon? `
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I do but beg a little changeling boy `
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To be my henchman. `
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TITANIA. Set your heart at rest; `
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The fairy land buys not the child of me. `
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His mother was a vot'ress of my order; `
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And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, `
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Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; `
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And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, `
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