Scene I

[Athens. The palace of Theseus]

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostrate, and Lords

HIPPOLYTA:

'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak
of.

HIPPOLYTA:

It’s strange, my Theseus, the story that these lovers speak of.

THESEUS:

More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,(5)
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;(10)
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth(15)
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,(20)
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear?

THESEUS:

More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, or these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such busy brains,
Such ability to shape fantasies, that they catch
More than cool reason ever understands.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are all compact in their imagination.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman. The lover, just as crazy,
Sees Helen of Troy's beauty in an Egyptian.
The poet's eye, rolling in a fine frenzy,
Glances from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination sends out
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives a local place and a name
To airy nothing.
Such tricks have strong imagination,
That, if it would only catch some joy,
It understands some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush thought to be a bear?

HIPPOLYTA:

But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,(25)
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy,
But howsoever strange and admirable.

HIPPOLYTA:

But the whole story of the night told over,
And all their minds changed all at the same time,
Shows more witnesses than just images of the mind,
And grows to something of great lasting;
But, nevertheless, strange and admirable.

Enter Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena

THESEUS:

Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love(30)
Accompany your hearts!

THESEUS:

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

LYSANDER:

More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

LYSANDER:

More than you wish for us
Waits in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

THESEUS:

Come now; what masques, what dances shall
we have,(35)
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?(40)
Call Philostrate.

THESEUS:

Come now; what plays, what dances shall we have,
To pass the three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in store? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

PHILOSTRATE:

Here, mighty Theseus.

PHILOSTRATE:

THESEUS:

Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?(45)

THESEUS:

Say, what entertainment do you have for this evening?
What play? what music? How shall we spend
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

PHILOSTRATE:

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

PHILOSTRATE:

There is a brief list of how many events there are;
Make choice of which your highness will see first.

[Giving a paper]

THESEUS:

‘The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.’
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,(50)
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 play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.(55)
‘The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.’
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
‘A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus(60)
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.’
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

THESEUS:

'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
We'll none of that. I’ve already told that one to 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 played
When I came from Thebes at last a conqueror.
'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceased in beggary.'
That is some satire, ken and critical,
Not in keeping with a wedding ceremony.
'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That’s like hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

PHILOSTRATE:

A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,(65)
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;(70)
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

PHILOSTRATE:

A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious, because, in all the play
There is not one appropriate word, one player a good actor.
And it’s tragical, my noble lord,
Because Pyramus kills himself during the play,
Which when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made my eyes water, but more merry tears were never shed
In a fit of loud laughter.

THESEUS:

What are they that do play it?(75)

THESEUS:

Who are they that do play it?

PHILOSTRATE:

Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
With this same play against your nuptial.

PHILOSTRATE:

Hard working men that work here in Athens,
Who never worked in their minds until now,
And now they have toiled their bad memories
To do this play in honor of your wedding.

THESEUS:

And we will hear it.(80)

THESEUS:

And we’ll hear it.

PHILOSTRATE:

No, my noble lord,
It is not for you. I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,(85)
To do you service.

PHILOSTRATE:

No, my noble lord,
It is not for you. I’ve heard,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world,
Unless you can laugh at their intentions,
Extremely stretched and done with cruel pain,
To do you service.

THESEUS:

I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in; and take your places, ladies.(90)

THESEUS:

I will hear that play,
Because nothing can ever be wrong
When simpleness and duty give it freely.
Go, bring them in. and take your places, ladies.

[Exit Philostrate]

HIPPOLYTA:

I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged,
And duty in his service perishing.

HIPPOLYTA:

I don’t like to see misery over-played,
And duty dying in his service.

THESEUS:

Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

THESEUS:

Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

HIPPOLYTA:

He says they can do nothing in this kind.

HIPPOLYTA:

He says they can’t do anything like this.

THESEUS:

The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.(95)
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake;
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;(100)
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,(105)
Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity(110)
In least speak most to my capacity.

THESEUS:

That makes us kinder, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our fun shall be to pick up on the mistakes they make.
And what poor duty can’t do,
Noble respect takes it in force, not merit.
In places I go to, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with prepared welcomes;
I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make full stops in the middle of sentences,
Mess up their practiced speeches in their fears,
And, in conclusion, stop all together, dumbstruck,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence, I still picked out a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty,
I can understand as much as if it were from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
Speaking the least means most to me.

[Re-enter Philostrate]

PHILOSTRATE:

So please your Grace, the Prologue is
address'd.

PHILOSTRATE:

So please your grace, the prologue is next.

THESEUS:

Let him approach.

THESEUS:

Let him approach.

Flourish trumpets

Enter [Quince as] the Prologue

PROLOGUE:

If we offend, it is with our good will.(115)
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despite.
We do not come, as minding to content you,(120)
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know.

PROLOGUE:

'If we offend you, it is with our good will.
But you should think that we don’t come to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then that we come but in scorn.
We don’t come, as we mean to content you,
Is our true intent. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent,
The actors are here and, by their show,
You shall know all that you are like to know,'

THESEUS:

This fellow doth not stand upon points.(125)

THESEUS:

This fellow does not stand upon points.

LYSANDER:

He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he
knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not
enough to speak, but to speak true.

LYSANDER:

He has ridden his prologue like a rough colt. He doesn’t know
where the stops are. A good moral, my lord. It is not enough to speak,
except to speak true.

HIPPOLYTA:

Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a
child on a recorder,—a sound, but not in government.(130)

HIPPOLYTA:

Indeed he has played on this prologue like a child
on a recorder, a sound, but not in order.

THESEUS:

His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

THESEUS:

His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all
disordered. Who’s next?

Enter, with a trumpet before them, [as in dumb show,] [Bottom as] Pyramus and [Flute as] Thisbe, [Snout as] Wall, [Starveling as] Moonshine, and [Snug as] Lion

PROLOGUE:

Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;(135)
This beauteous lady Thisbe is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.(140)
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,(145)
The trusty Thisbe, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,(150)
And finds his trusty Thisbe's mantle slain;
Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,(155)
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large discourse while here they do remain.

PROLOGUE:

Gentles, perhaps you wonder at this show;
But wonder on until the truth makes all things clear.
This man is Pyramus, if you want to know;
This beauteous lady is certainly Thisbe.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, represents
Wall, that vile Wall which kept these lovers apart;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper, at the which, let no man wonder.
This man, with lantern, dog, and thorn bush,
Represents Moonshine, because, if you want to know,
These lovers think it’s no shame to meet at Ninus' tomb
By moonshine, there, there to court each other.
This grisly beast, which known by name Lion,
Scared away or rather frightened the trusty Thisbe,
Coming first to the place by night;
And as she fled, she dropped her shawl,
Which vile Lion stained with his bloody mouth.
Soon Pyramus comes, sweet youth, and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisbe's blood-stained shawl.
He bravely stabs his boiling bloody breast
With a sword when he sees this, a bloody blameful blade;
And Thisbe, waiting in the shade of the mulberry tree,
Drew his dagger, and kills herself. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and the two lovers,
Tell you while they stay here.

Exeunt all but Wall