A Midsummer Nights Dream

Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me Her. His folly Helena is none of mine Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face, Lysander and my selfe will flie this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee. O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold, To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse, Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse (A time that Louers flights doth still conceale) Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale Her. And in the wood, where often you and I, Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye, Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld: There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete, And thence from Athens turne away our eyes To seeke new friends and strange companions, Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs, And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius. Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight, From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight. Exit Hermia. Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu, As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you. Exit Lysander. Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be? Through Athens I am thought as faire as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so: He will not know, what all, but he doth know, And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes; So I, admiring of his qualities: Things base and vilde, holding no quantity, Loue can transpose to forme and dignity, Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde. Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste: Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste. And therefore is Loue said to be a childe, Because in choise he is often beguil'd, As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare; So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where. For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne, He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine. And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt, I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight: Then to the wood will he, to morrow night Pursue her; and for his intelligence, If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence: But heerein meane I to enrich my paine, To haue his sight thither, and backe againe. Enter. Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor. Quin. Is all our company heere? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man according to the scrip Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding day at night Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the Weauer Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and proceed Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant? Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for loue Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender Flu. Heere Peter Quince Quin. You must take Thisbie on you Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight? Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a beard comming Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and you may speake as small as you will Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too: Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady deare Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thisby Bot. Well, proceed Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor Star. Heere Peter Quince Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies mother? Tom Snowt, the Tinker Snowt. Heere Peter Quince Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing but roaring Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough to hang us all All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne