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A I R.
With mean disguise let others nature hide,
And mimick virtue with the paint of art;
Ind boast the graceful weakness of my heart ;
And learn the more euch heav'nly charm to prize;
And dull sensation keeps the stupid wise.
The. Take time to pause, and by the next new moony
Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia, and Lysander yield,
Lyf. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.
Ege. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my love;
Lyf. I am, my Lord, as well deriv'd as he,
The. I must confess that I have heard fo much,
Manent Lysander and Hermia.
Her. If then true lovers have been ever croft,
Lys. A good persuasion; therefore hear me, Hermia :
When that gay season did us lead
Hér. My good Lysander,
Lys. Keep promise, love. Look here comes He!ena.
Her. Good speed, fair Helena! whither away ?
Hil. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay ; Demetrius loves you, fair;
O Hermia fair, O happy, hapty fair,
Her. Take comfort;
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Lyf. Helen, to you wé will unfold our minds;
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
Keep word, Lysander, we must starve our fight
Lyf. I will, my Hermia. Helena, adieu!
[Exit Lyf. Hel. How happy fome, o’er other some can be ! Through Athens I am thought as fair as Hermia; But what of that; Demetriùs thinks not fo: Yet ere he took'd on Hermia's
Against myself why all this art,
give him joy, I court my bane !
SCENE a Room in Quince's House: :
Quin. Is all our company here?
Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
Quin. Here is the crowl of every man's name, which is thought fit through all Athens to play in our interlude before the Duke and Dutchess, 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 fo grow on to a point.
Quin. Marry, our play is the most lamentable comedy, and molt cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scrowl. Masters, spread yourselves.
Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom the weaver ! Bot. Ready: Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Botroin, are set down for Pyrainus. 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 storms; I will condole in some measure. To the rest; yet, my chief humour is for a tyrant; I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in.
" To make all split the raging “ rocks and shivering shocks shall break the locks of prison
gates, and Phibbus carr shall shine from far, and make and « mar the foolish fates !" This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles vein, a tyrant's vein ; a lover is more condoling:
Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender:
Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman, I have a beard coming
Quin. That's all one, you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak small as you will, Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too; I'll
I speak in a monstrous little voice ; Thisne, Thisne; ah Pyramus my lover dear, thy Thisby dear, and lady dear.
Quin. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and Flute, you
Bot. Well, proceed.
Snowt. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You, Pyramys's father ; myself, Thilby'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 Aow of study.
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 should do it too terribly, you would fright the