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" The raging rocks,
And shivering shocks
" Shall break the locks

“ Of prison gates :
“ And Phibbus car
“ Shall shine 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 condol

ing
Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows mender.
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thilby, a wand'ring knight?
Quin. It is the lady, that Pyramus must love.

Flu. Nay, faith, bet not me play a woman; I have a 'beard coming.

Quin. That's all one, you shall play it'in æ mafque; *aod you may fpeak as small'as you

will. Bot. 'An' I may hide my face, let me play Thilby' too; I?ll (peak in a monstrous: little voice, Thifne, Thifde; ab, Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thisy dear, and lady dear.

QUIN. 'No, no, you maft :play Pyramus; and Flate, you Thilby.

Bot. Wethe proceed.
Quin.'Robin Starveling, the taylor.
STÁR. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
QUIN. Tom Snowt, the tinker.
Snow. Here, Peter Quince.
'Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thilby'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.

Bot. 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 roar a

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 son.

Bot. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an' 'cwere any nightingale.

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's-day; a most 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 discharge 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, request you, and defire

mean

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 mea time I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.

Bot. We will meet, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu. QUIN. At the

e duke's oak we meet.
Bot. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings.

A.C.T II.

SCENE 1.

A WOOD

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

át another.

Puc R.
How now, fpirit, whither wander you

Far. Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over.pale,
Through food, through fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere ;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioriers be,
In their gold coats spots you see,
Those be rubies, fairy favours :
In those freckles live their favours:
Vox. I.

H

I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewel, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone,
Our queen and all her elvès 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 pafling fell and wrath,
Because that she, as her attendant, hath
A lovely boy, stol’n from an Indian king :
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she 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 star-light sheen,
But they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn cups, and hide them there.

Fal. Or I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd, and knavish sprite, Callid Robin-goodfellow. Are you not he, That fright the maidens of the villageree, Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless huswife 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 sweet 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 jest 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 goflip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her wither’d dew-lap pour ale.
The wiseft aunt telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then Nip I from her bum, down topples she,
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 swear,
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But make room, fairy, here comes Oberon.
Fal. And here my mistress 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, skip hence, I have forsworn his bed and company.

OB. Tarry, rash wanton; am not 1 thy lord ?

QUEEN. Then I must be thy lady; but I know,
When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, :
And in the shape of Corin sate all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and verling love
To am'rous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the further steep of India ?

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