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النشر الإلكتروني

"The raging rocks,

"And shivering fhocks
"Shall break the locks

"Of prison gates:
"And Phibbus car
"Shall fhine from far,

"And make and mar

"The foolish fates."

This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling.

QUIN. Francis Flute, the bellows mender.

FLU. Here, Peter Quince.

QUIN. You must take Thisby on you.

FLU. What is Thisby, a wand'ring knight?

QUIN. It is the lady, that Pyramus must love.

FLU. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a 'beard coming.

QUIN. That's all one, you shall play it in a masque; and you may fpeak as small as you will.

BOT. 'An' I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too; I'll speak in a monftrous little voice, Thifne, Thifne; ab, Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thisby dear, and lady dear. QUIN. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you Thisby.

BOT. Well, proceed.

QUIN. Robin Starveling, the taylor.

STAR. Here, Peter Quince.

QUIN. Robin Starveling, you must play Thifby's mother. QUIN. Tom Snowt, the tinker.

SNow. Here, Peter Quince.

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'QUIN. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby's fa

ther; Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part: I hope, there is a play fitted.

SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? pray you? if it be, give it me, for I am flow of study.

QUIN. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

Bor. Let me play the lion too; I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me, I will roar, that I will make the duke say, “let him roar again, let him roár a66 gain."

QUIN. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the dutchess and the ladies, that they would shriek, and that were enough to hang us all.

ALL. That would hang us every mother's fon.

BOT. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more difcretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice fo, that I will roar you as gently as any fucking dove; I will roar you an' 'twere any nightingale.

QUIN. You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a fweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a fummer's-day; a moft lovely gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

BOT. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I beft to play it in?

QUIN. Why, what you will.

BOT. I will difcharge it in either your straw-colour'd beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French crown-colour'd beard; your perfect yellow.

QUIN. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters, here are your parts; and I am to intreat you, requeft you, and defire

DREAM

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you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace-wood, a mile without the town, by moon-light, there we will rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of properties, fuch as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

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BOT. We will meet, and there we may rehearse more obfcenely and courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu. QUIN, At the duke's oak we meet. BOT. Enough; hold, or cut bow-ftrings.

ACT II. SCENE I.

A WOOD.

Enter a fairy at one door, and Puck (or Robin-goodfellow)

at another.

PUCK.

HOW now, fpirit, whither wander you?
FAI. Over hill, over dale,

Through bush, through briar,

Over park, over pale,`

Through flood, through fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I ferve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowflips tall her penfioners be,
In their gold coats fpots you fee,
ats!
Those be rubies, fairy favours:
In those freckles live their favours:

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I must go seek fome dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowflip's ear.
Farewel, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone,

Our queen and all her elves come here anon.

PUCK. The king doth keep his revels here to night,
Take heed, the queen come not within his fight.
For Oberon is paffing fell and wrath,

Because that fhe, as her attendant, hath
A lovely boy, stol'n from an Indian king:
She never had fo sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forefts wild;
But the per-force with-holds the lovely boy,
Crowns him with flow'rs, and makes him all her joy.
And now they never meet in grove, or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled ftar-light sheen,
But they do fquare, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.

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FAI. Or I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd, and knavish sprite,
Call'd Robin-goodfellow. Are you not he,
That fright the maidens of the villageree,
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootlefs make the breathlefs hufwife chern:
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
Mif-lead night wand'rers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and fweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
Are not you he?

PUCK. I am -thou speak'st aright;
I am that merry wand'rer of the night:

I jeft to Oberon and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometimes lurk I in a goffip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roafted crab,

And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt telling the faddeft tale,
Sometime for three-foot ftool mistaketh me;
Then flip I from her bum, down topples the,
And taylor cries, and falls into a cough:

And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and fwear,
A merrier hour was never wasted there.

But make room, fairy, here comes Oberon.

FAI. And here my miftrefs-Would, that we were gone!

SCENE II,

Enter Oberon, king of fairies, at one door with his train, and the queen at another with hers.

OB. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania.

QUEEN. What, jealous Oberon? Fairies, fkip hence, I have forfworn his bed and company.

Oв. Tarry, rafh wanton; am not I thy lord?
QUEEN. Then I must be thy lady; but I know,
When thou haft ftolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin fate all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and verfing love
To am'rous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the further fteep of India?

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