Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
FINIS. THE TEMPEST.
Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so. Enter. Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine. Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song; Then for the third part of a minute hence, Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds, Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings. To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe, Then to your offices, and let me rest Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue, Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene, Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong, Come not neere our Fairy Queene. Philomele with melodie, Sing in your sweet Lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby, Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme, Come our louely Lady nye, So good night with Lullaby 2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere, Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence: Beetles blacke approach not neere; Worme nor Snayle doe no offence. Philomele with melody, &c 1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well; One aloofe, stand Centinell. Shee sleepes. Enter Oberon. Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true Loue take: Loue and languish for his sake. Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare, Pard, or Boare with bristled haire, In thy eye that shall appeare, When thou wak'st, it is thy deare, Wake when some vile thing is neere. Enter Lisander and Hermia.
Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed? Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke, The plainsong Cuckow gray; Whose note full many a man doth marke, And dares not answere, nay. For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow, neuer so? Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe, Mine eare is much enamored of thy note; On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee. So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape. And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe, Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate: The Summer still doth tend vpon my state, And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me, Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe, And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe: And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so, That thou shalt like an airie spirit go. Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure Fairies.
Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me? Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among men. Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake, Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake? And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch: Could not a worme, an Adder do so much? An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood, I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood: Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more; And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more Whether he be dead or no. Enter. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine, Here therefore for a while I will remaine. So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow: For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.
Lie downe. Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight: Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth, A million faile, confounding oath on oath Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde, And Helena of Athens looke thou finde. All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere, With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare. By some illusion see thou bring her heere, Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe, Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe. Enter. Ob. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupids archery, Sinke in apple of his eye, When his loue he doth espie, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Enter Pucke. Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band, Helena is heere at hand, And the youth, mistooke by me, Pleading for a Louers fee. Shall we their fond Pageant see? Lord, what fooles these mortals be! Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake Puck. Then will two at once wooe one, That must needs be sport alone: And those things doe best please me, That befall preposterously. Enter Lysander and Helena.
Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you? Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde Her. What, with Lysander? Her. With Demetrius Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd, She was a vixen when she went to schoole, And though she be but little, she is fierce Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little? Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe, You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made, You bead, you acorne Dem. You are too officious, In her behalfe that scornes your seruices. Let her alone, speake not of Helena, Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Neuer so little shew of loue to her, Thou shalt abide it Lys. Now she holds me not, Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine is most in Helena Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by iowle. Exit Lysander and Demetrius. Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you. Nay, goe not backe Hel. I will not trust you I, Nor longer stay in your curst companie. Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though to runne away. Enter Oberon and Pucke.
Dem. Yea, art thou there? Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here. Enter. Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on, When I come where he cals, then he's gone. The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I: I followed fast, but faster he did flye; shifting places. That fallen am I in darke vneuen way, And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day: lye down. For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight. Enter Robin and Demetrius. Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot, Thou runst before me, shifting euery place, And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face. Where art thou? Rob. Come hither, I am here Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this deere, If euer I thy face by day-light see. Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me, To measure out my length on this cold bed, By daies approach looke to be visited. Enter Helena. Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East, That I may backe to Athens by day-light, From these that my poore companie detest; And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie, Steale me a while from mine owne companie.
Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues, The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere, Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With eares that sweepe away the morning dew, Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels, Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne, In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly; Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these? Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe, And this Lysander, this Demetrius is, This Helena, olde Nedars Helena, I wonder of this being heere together The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue The right of May; and hearing our intent, Came heere in grace of our solemnity. But speake Egeus, is not this the day That Hermia should giue answer of her choice? Egeus. It is, my Lord Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their hornes. Hornes and they wake. Shout within, they all start vp.
Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met; Of this discourse we shall heare more anon. Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will; For in the Temple, by and by with vs, These couples shall eternally be knit. And for the morning now is something worne, Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. Away, with vs to Athens; three and three, Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie. Come Hippolita. Exit Duke and Lords. Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable, Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye, When euery thing seemes double Hel. So me-thinkes: And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell, Mine owne, and not mine owne Dem. It seemes to mee, That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke, The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him? Her. Yea, and my Father Hel. And Hippolita Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs recount our dreames. Bottome wakes. Exit Louers.
Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest Duke. Let him approach. Flor. Trum. Enter the Prologue. Quince. Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should thinke, we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despight. We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not heere. 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 Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Tawyer with a Trumpet before them. Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.
Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show, But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine. This man is Piramus, if you would know; This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine. This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder: And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne, Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know, By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe: This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name) The trusty Thisby, comming first by night, Did scarre away, or rather did affright: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine. Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall, And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine; Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade, He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast, And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine, At large discourse, while here they doe remaine. Exit all but Wall. Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.
Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company? Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time. I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity. In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie. Exeunt. Enter Pucke. Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores, And the Wolfe beholds the Moone: Whilest the heauy ploughman snores, All with weary taske fore-done. Now the wasted brands doe glow, Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shrowd. Now it is the time of night, That the graues, all gaping wide, Euery one lets forth his spright, In the Church-way paths to glide, And we Fairies, that do runne, By the triple Hecates teame, From the presence of the Sunne, Following darkenesse like a dreame, Now are frollicke; not a Mouse Shall disturbe this hallowed house. I am sent with broome before, To sweep the dust behinde the doore. Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.
Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie fier, Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright, Hop as light as bird from brier, And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie, Tita. First rehearse this song by roate, To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with Fairie grace, Will we sing and blesse this place. The Song. Now vntill the breake of day, Through this house each Fairy stray. To the best Bride-bed will we, Which by vs shall blessed be: And the issue there create, Euer shall be fortunate: So shall all the couples three, Euer true in louing be: And the blots of Natures hand, Shall not in their issue stand. Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre, nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in Natiuitie, Shall vpon their children be. With this field dew consecrate, Euery Fairy take his gate, And each seuerall chamber blesse, Through this Pallace with sweet peace, Euer shall in safety rest. And the owner of it blest. Trip away, make no stay; Meet me all by breake of day Robin. If we shadowes haue offended, Thinke but this (and all is mended) That you haue but slumbred heere, While these Visions did appeare. And this weake and idle theame, No more yeelding but a dreame, Gentles, doe not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And as I am an honest Pucke, If we haue vnearned lucke, Now to scape the Serpents tongue, We will make amends ere long: Else the Pucke a lyar call. So good night vnto you all. Giue me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.
Sal. My winde cooling my broth, Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought What harme a winde too great might doe at sea. I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne, But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand, Vailing her high top lower then her ribs To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle Vessels side Would scatter all her spices on the streame, Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes, And in a word, but euen now worth this, And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad? But tell me, I know Anthonio Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottome trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Vpon the fortune of this present yeere: Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad Sola. Why then you are in loue Anth. Fie, fie Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes, And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper. And other of such vineger aspect, That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable. Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.
Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I doe expect returne Of thrice three times the valew of this bond Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this, If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine By the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of mans flesh taken from a man, Is not so estimable, profitable neither As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship, If he will take it, so: if not adiew, And for my loue I praie you wrong me not Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries, Giue him direction for this merrie bond, And I will goe and purse the ducats straite. See to my house left in the fearefull gard Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie Ile be with you. Enter. Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes kinde Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie, My Shippes come home a month before the daie.
Mor. Euen for that I thanke you, Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To trie my fortune: By this Symitare That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke: Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth: Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare, Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray To win the Ladie. But alas, the while If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his rage, And so may I, blinde fortune leading me Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with grieuing Port. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be made Mor. Good fortune then, Cornets. To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Exeunt. Enter the Clowne alone.
Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will runne. Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.
Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now? Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer. Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.