Athens. The palace of THESEUS.
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants.

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

More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
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,
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
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,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

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

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

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

Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
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?
Call Philostrate.

Here, mighty 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?

There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
Make choice of which your highness will see first.
[Giving a paper.]

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,
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.
The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
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?

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 rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

What are they that do play it?

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

And we will hear it.

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,
To do you service.

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.

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

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

He says they can do nothing in this kind.

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 practised 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 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
In least speak most, to my capacity.


So please your grace, the Prologue is address’d.

Let him approach.
[Flourish of trumpets.]

Enter QUINCE for the 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.

This fellow doth not stand upon points.

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.

Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder;
a sound, but not in government.

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

Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion.

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 Wall’s 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 Ninus’ 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 Thisby’s mantle slain:
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach’d 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, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine.]

I wonder if the lion be to speak.

No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.

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.

Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.

Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

Re-enter Pyramus.

O grim-look’d 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 Thisby’s promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand’st between her father’s 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 I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

No, in truth, sir, he should not.
‘Deceiving me’ is Thisby’s 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.

Re-enter Thisbe.

O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby’s face. Thisby!

My love thou art, my love I think.

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace;
And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

O’ kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.

Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?

‘Tide life, ‘tide death, I come without delay.
[Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe.]

Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.

This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

The best in this kind are but shadows;
and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

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.

Re-enter Lion and Moonshine.

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, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion’s dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.

A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.

The very best at a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw.

This lion is a very fox for his valor.

True; and a goose for his discretion.

Not so, my lord;
for his valor cannot carry his discretion;
and the fox carries the goose.

His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor;
for the goose carries not the fox.
It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

This lanthorn doth the hornèd moon present; —

He should have worn the horns on his head.

He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the man i’ the moon do seem to be.

This is the greatest error of all the rest:
the man should be put into the lantern.
How is it else the man i’ the moon?

He dares not come there for the candle;
for, you see, it is already in snuff.

I am aweary of this moon: would he would change!

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.

Proceed, Moon.

All that I have to say, is,
to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon;
I, the man i’teh moon;
this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush;
and this dog, my dog.

Why, all these should be in the lantern;
for all these are in the moon.
But silence! here comes Thisbe.
Re-enter Thisbe.

This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?

Lion [Roaring]
Oh —
[Thisbe runs off.]

Well roared, Lion.

Well run, Thisbe.

Well shone, Moon.
Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.
[The Lion shakes Thisbe’s mantle, and exit.]

Well moused, Lion.

And then came pyramus.

And so the lion vanished.

Re-enter 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, do you see?
How can it he?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stain’d with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

This passion, and the death of a dear friend,
would go near to make a man look sad.

Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion vile hath here deflower’d my dear:
Which is — no, no — which was the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that look’d with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:
[Stabs himself.]
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead;
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky:
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon, take thy flight:
[Exit Moonshine.]
Now die, die, die, die, die.

No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.

Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass.

How chance Moonshine is gone
before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

She will find him by starlight.
Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

Re-enter Thisbe.

Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus:
I hope she will be brief.

A mote will turn the balance,
which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better;
he for a man, God warrant us;
She for a woman, God bless us.

She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

And thus she moans, videlicet: —

Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:
Lovers, make moan:
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk:
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword;
Come, blade, my breast imbrue:
[Stabs herself.]
And, farewell, friends;
Thus Thisbe ends:
Adieu, adieu, adieu.

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

Ay, and Wall too.

BOTTOM [Starting up]
No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers.
Will it please you to see the epilogue,
or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?

No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse.
Never excuse; for when the players are all dead,
there need none to be blamed.
Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus
and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter,
it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly;
and very notably discharged.
But, come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone.
[A dance.]
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatch’d.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity.

Enter PUCK.

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
I am sent with broom before.
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train.

Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
[Song and dance.]

Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blest.
Ever shall in safety rest,
Trip away; make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train.]

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call:
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.


【经】 二年,春,王正月,城楚丘。
【传】 楚丘者何?卫邑也。国而曰城,此邑也,其曰城,何也?封卫也。则其不言城卫,何也?卫未迁也。其不言卫之迁焉,何也?不与齐侯专封也。其言城之者,专辞也。故非天子不得专封诸侯,诸侯不得专封诸侯。虽通其仁,以义而不与也。故曰:仁不胜道。

【经】 夏五月,辛巳,葬我小君哀姜。

【经】 虞师、晋师灭夏阳。
【传】 非国而曰灭,重夏阳也。虞无师,其曰师,何也?以其先晋,不可以不言师也。其先晋,何也?为主乎灭夏阳也。夏阳者,虞虢之塞邑也,灭夏阳而虞虢举矣。

【经】 秋九月,齐侯、宋公、江人、黄人盟于贯。
【传】 贯之盟,不期而至者,江人黄人也。江人黄人者,远国之辞也。中国称齐宋,远国称江黄,以为诸侯皆来至也。

【经】 冬十月,不雨。
【传】 不雨者,勤雨也。

【经】 楚人侵郑。


【经】 元年,春,王正月,公即位。
【传】 桓无王,其曰王,何也?谨始也。其曰无王,何也?桓弟弒兄,臣弒君,天子不能定诸侯,不能救百姓,不能去以为无王之道,遂可以至焉尔。元年有王,所以治桓也。继故不言即位,正也。继故不言即位之为正,何也?曰:先君不以其道终,则子弟不忍即位也。继故而言即位,则是与闻乎弒也。继故而言即位,是为与闻乎弒,何也?曰:先君不以其道终,己正即位之道而即位,是无恩于先君也。

【经】 三月,公会郑伯于垂。郑伯以璧假许田。
【传】 会者,外为主焉尔。假不言以,言以,非假也。非假而曰假,讳易地也。礼,天子在上,诸侯不得以地相与也。无田则无许可知矣。不言许,不与许也。许田者,鲁朝宿之邑也。邴者,郑伯之所受命而祭泰山之邑也。用见鲁之不朝于周,而郑之不祭泰山也。

【经】 夏四月,丁未,公及郑伯盟于越。
【传】 及者,内为志焉尔。越,盟地之名也。

【经】 秋,大水。
【传】 高下有水灾,曰大水。


【经】 元年,春,王正月。
【传】 虽无事,必举正月,谨始也。公何以不言即位?成公志也。焉成之?言君之不取为公也。君之不取为公,何也?将以让桓也。让桓正乎?曰:不正。《春秋》成人之美,不成人之恶。隐不正而成之,何也?将以恶桓也。其恶桓,何也?隐将让而桓弒之,则桓恶矣。桓弒而隐让,则隐善矣。善则其不正焉,何也?《春秋》贵义而不贵惠,信道而不信邪。孝子扬父之美,不扬父之恶。先君之欲与桓,非正也,邪也。虽然,既胜其邪心以与隐矣,已探先君之邪志,而遂以与桓,则是成父之恶也。兄弟,天伦也。为子受之父,为诸侯受之君。已废天伦而忘君父,以行小惠,曰小道也。若隐者,可谓轻千乘之国;蹈道,则未也。

【经】 三月,公及邾仪父盟于眜。
【传】 及者何?内为志焉尔。仪,字也;父犹傅也,男子之美称也。其不言邾子,何也?邾之上古微,未爵命于周也。不日,其盟渝也。眜,地名也。

【经】 夏五月,郑伯克段于鄢。
【传】 克者何?能也。何能也?能杀也。何以不言杀?见段之有徒众也。段,郑伯弟也。何以知其为弟也?杀世子,母弟目君,以其目君,知其为弟也。段弟也,而弗谓弟;公子也,而弗谓公子,贬之也。段失子弟之道矣,贱段而甚郑伯也。何甚乎郑伯?甚郑伯之处心积虑,成于杀也。于鄢,远也,犹曰取之其母之怀中而杀之云尔,甚之也。然则为郑伯者宜奈何?缓追逸贼,亲亲之道也。

【经】 秋七月,天王使宰咺来归惠公仲子之赗。
【传】 母以子氏。仲子者何?惠公之母、孝公之妾也。礼,赗人之母则可,赗人之妾则不可。君子以其可辞受之。其志,不及事也。赗者,何也?乘马曰赗,衣衾曰襚,贝玉曰含,钱财曰赙。

【经】 九月,及宋人盟于宿。
【传】 及者何?内卑者也。宋人,外卑者也。卑者之盟,不日。宿,邑名也。

【经】 冬十有二月,祭伯来。
【传】 来者,来朝也。其弗谓朝,何也?寰内诸侯,非有天子之命,不得出会诸侯,不正其外交,故弗与朝也。聘弓鍭矢,不出竟埸。束脩之肉,不行竟中。有至尊者,不贰之也。

【经】 公子益师卒。
【传】 大夫日卒,正也。不日卒,恶也。