The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) π
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire:
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate be fairer lodged than
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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What revels are in hand? Is there no play To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.
PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus.
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?
PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe; Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
[Giving a paper]
THESEUS. βThe battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.β
Weβll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
βThe riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.β
That is an old device, and it was playβd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
βThe thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of Learning, late deceasβd in beggary.β
That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
βA tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisby; very tragical mirth.β
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is 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, 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;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which when I saw rehearsβd, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed.
THESEUS. What are they that do play it?
PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labourβd in their minds till now; And now have toilβd their unbreathed memories With this same play against your nuptial.
THESEUS. And we will 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 stretchβd and connβd 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.
Exit PHILOSTRATE
HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness oβercharged, And duty in his service perishing.
THESEUS. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
HIPPOLYTA. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
THESEUS. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
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; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practisβd accent in their fears, And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I pickβd 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 In least speak most to my capacity.
Re-enter PHILOSTRATE
PHILOSTRATE. SO please your Grace, the Prologue is addressβd.
THESEUS. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets]
Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good will.
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, Our true intent is. All for your delight We are not here. That you should here repent you, The actors are at band; and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know, THESEUS. This fellow doth 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.
HIPPOLYTA. Indeed he hath playβd on this prologue like a child on a recorder-a sound, but not in government.
THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im paired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show, PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and 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; This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; And through Walls chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
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 Ninusβ tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, 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, And finds his trusty Thisbyβs mantle slain; Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broachβd his boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse while here they do remain.
Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, LION, and MOONSHINE
THESEUS. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
DEMETRIUS. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.
WALL. In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall as I would have you think That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so; And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
Enter PYRAMUS
THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.
PYRAMUS. O grim-lookβd night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisbyβs promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That standβst between her fatherβs ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne.
[WALL holds up his fingers]
Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss, Cursβd he thy stones for thus deceiving me!
THESEUS. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
PYRAMUS. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Thisbyβs cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall.
You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes.
Enter THISBY
THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kissβd thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisbyβs face.
Thisby!
THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think.
PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy loverβs grace; And like Limander am I trusty still.
THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
THISBY. I kiss the wallβs hole, not your lips at all.
PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninnyβs tomb meet me straightway?
THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY
WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit WALL
THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours.
DEMETRIUS. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
HIPPOLYTA. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.
Enter LION and MOONSHINE
LION. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I as Snug the joiner am A lion fell, nor else no lionβs dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, βtwere pity on my life.
THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that eβer I saw.
LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
THESEUS. True; and a goose for his discretion.
DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion, and the fox carries the goose.
THESEUS. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the Moon.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present-DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head.
THESEUS. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the Man iβ thβ Moon do seem to be.
THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should be put into the lantern. How is it else the man iβ thβ moon?
DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.
HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
THESEUS. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon.
MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the Man iβ thβ Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby.
Re-enter THISBY
THISBY. This is old Ninnyβs tomb. Where is my love?
LION. [Roaring] O- [THISBY runs off]
DEMETRIUS. Well roarβd, Lion.
THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.
HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. [The LION tears THISBYβS Mantle, and exit]
THESEUS. Well mousβd, Lion.
Re-enter PYRAMUS
DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.
LYSANDER. And so the lion vanishβd.
PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes,
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