Hel. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine! Her. Take comfort; he no more fhall fee O then, what graces in my love do dwell, my face; Lyf. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold; Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grafs ; Her. And in the wood, where often you and I As you on him, Demetrius doat on you! Exit Lyfan. Things bafe and vile, holding no quantity, Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; Nor Nor hath love's mind of any judgment tafte; my pain, But herein mean I to enrich [Exit. Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snowt, and Quin. I Starveling. S all our company here? Bot. You were beft to call them generally man by man, according to the fcrip. Quin. Here is the fcrowl of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke and Dutchefs, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, fay what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and fo go on to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is the moft lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I affure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the fcrowl. Mafters, fpread yourselves. Quin. Anfwer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. Bot. Bot. Ready: name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are fet down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus, a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.. Bot. That will ask fome tears in the true performing of it; if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move ftorms; I will condole in fome measure. To the reft ;To the reft; yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a Cap in: To make all split- "the raging "rocks, and fhivering fhocks fhall break the locks. "of prison-gates- -and Phibbus' carr fhall fhine "from far, and make and mar the foolish fates."This was lofty. Now name the reft 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 Thify on you. Flu. What is Thisby, a wand'ring Knight? Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one, you fhall play it in a masque; and you may speak as fmall, as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thiby too; I'll speak in a monftrous little voice, Thifne, Thifne; ah Pyramus, my lover dear, thy Thisby dear, and lady dear. Quin. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you, Thifty. Bot. Well, proceed. Quin. Robin Starveling, the taylor. Star. Here Peter Quince. Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thifty's mo ther: Tom Snowt, the tinker. Snowt. Snowt. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thiby's father; 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 ftudy. 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 fay, let him roar again, let him roar again. Quin. If you fhould 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 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 ftraw-colour'd beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purplein-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 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 re hearfe; hearse; for if we meet in the city, we fhall be dog'd. with company, and our devices known. In the mean 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 obfcenely and courageoufly. Take pains, be perfect, adieu. * Quin. At the Duke's oak we meet. ACT II. [Exeunt. SCENE I. 2 A WOO D. Enter a Fairy at one Door, and Puck (or Robin good-fellow) at another. PUCK. OW now, fpirit, whither wander you? H% Hai. Over hill, over dale, Through bufh, through briar, Over park, over pale, Through flood, through fire, : At the Duke's oak we meet--hold, or cut bow-ftrings.] This proverbial Phrase came originally from the Camp. When a Rendezvous was appointed, the Militia Soldiers would frequently make excuse for not keeping Word that their bow-firings were broke, i. e. their Arms unferviceable. Hence when one would give another abfolute Affurance of meeting him, he would fay proverbially----hold or cut bowAtrings- i. e. whether the Bow-ftring held or broke. Thofe |