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* And I have found Demetrius like a Gemell, Mine own, and not mine own.

Dem. It seems to me,
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think,
The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Her. Yea, and my father.
Hel. And Hippolita.
Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.

Dem. Why then, we are awake; let's follow him; And, by the



us recount our dreams. Exeunt.

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As they go out, Bottom wakes. Bot. HEN

my cue comes,


me, and I will answer. My next is, Most fair Pyramus whey, ho,—Peter Quince, Flute the bellows-mender! Snowt the tinker! Sterveling! god's my life! ftolin hence, and left me asleep? I have had a most rare vision. I had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he


about to expound this dream. Methought I was, there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had,—But man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not

* And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine

own, and not mine own.] Hermia had observed that Things appeared double to her. Helená replies, fo methinks; and then subjoins, that Demetrius was like a Jewel, her own and not her own. He is here, then, compared to something which had the Property of appearing to be one Thing when it was another.

Not the Property sure of a fewel : Or, if you will, of none but a false one: Therefore we should read,

And I have found Demetrius like a Gemell,
Mire own, and not mine own.

.] --- From Gemellus a Twin. For Demetrius had that Night a&ed two such different Parts, that she could hardly think them both played by one and the same Demetrius; but that there were Twin Demetrius's like the two Socia's in the Farce.

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feen; man's hand is not able to tafte, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report



dream I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream; it shall be cali'd Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play before the Duke; peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it * after death.


S CE N E IV. .

Changes to the Town.

Enter Quince, Flute, Snowt, and Sterveling.


sent to Bottom's house? is he

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, he is transported.

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marrd. It goes not forward, doth it?

Quin. It is not possible; you have not a man, in all Athens, able to discharge Pyramus, but he.

Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens.

Quin. Yea, and the best perfon too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.

Flu. You must say, paragon; a paramour is (God bless us!) a thing of naught.

* I shall sing it at her death. ] At her Death ? At whose? In all Bottom's Speech there is not the least Mention of any She-creature, to whom this Relative can be coupled : Therefore it cannot be fcrupled, but Botiom, for the Sake of a Jeft, and to render his Voluntary, as we may call it, the more gracious and extraordinary, faid ; --- I shall sing it after Death. He, as Pyramus, is killed upon the Scene ; and so might promise to rise again at the Conclusion of the Interlude, and give the Duke his Dream by way of Song. ---The Source of the Corruption of the Text is very obvious. ---The fin after being sunk by the vulgar Pronunciation, the Copyist might write it from the Sound-ater: which some Editors not understanding, cluded, two Words were erroneoully got together; so, splitting them, and clapping in an h, produced this Reading, -- at her.


Enter Snug. Snug. Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married; if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! thus hath he loft fixpence a-day during his life; he could not have 'scap'd fix-pence a-day; an the Duke had not given him fix-pence a-day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hang’d: he would have deferv'd it. Six-pence a-day, in Pyramus, or nothing.

Enter Bottom. Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!

Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders, but alk me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing as it fell out.

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Bot. Not a word of me; all I will tell you is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good frings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace, every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferr'd: in any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him, that plays the lion, pare his nails, for thy shall hang out for the lion's claws; and, most dear actors ! eat no onions, nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath ; and I do not doubt to hear them say, it is a most sweet comedy. No more words; away; go away.







Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus, and his Lords.


HIPPO LIT A. IS strange, my Theseus, what these lovers speak of. strange .

I never may
These antic fables, nor these fairy toys;
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact :
One fees, more devils than vast hell can hold ;
The madman. While the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rowling,
Doth glance from heav'n to earth, from earth to

And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shape, and gives to aiery nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend sonne joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?

Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd fo together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.


Enter Lyfander, Demetrius, Hermia and Helena.

Thes. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Joy, gentle friends; joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts.

Lyf. More than to us,
Wait on your royal walks, your board, your bed.
Thef. Come now, what masks, what dances shall

we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours,
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth ?
What revels are in hand? is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philosirate.

Enter Philoftrate.
Philoft. Here, mighty Theseus.
Thes. Say, what abridgment have you for this

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

Philojt. There is a brief, how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your Highness will see first.

[Giving a Paper. Thef. reads.] The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp, We'll none of that That I have 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 plaid, 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 fatyr, keen and critical ; Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus;


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