COme Neighbours let me tell you, and in troth I have spoke like a man in my daies, and hit right too, that if this business do but displease his Graces fancy, we are all made men for ever.

I believe so too neighbour, but is all our compa­ny here?

You had best to call them generally man by man according to the Scrip.

Here is the scrowl of every mans name which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our enterlude be­tween the Duke and the Dutchess on his Wedding day at night.

First good Peter Quince say what the Play treats of, then read the names of the Actors, and so grow on to a point.

Marry our play is the most Lamentable Comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisbe.

A very good piece of work I assure you, and a merry; [Page]now good Peter Quince call forth your Actors by the Scrowl, Masters spread your selves.

Answer as I call you, Nicolas Bottome the Weaver.

Ready, name what part I am for, and proceed.

You Nic. Bottome are set down for Pyramus.

Wat is Pyramus, a Lover or a Tyrant?

A Lover that kills himself most gallantly for Love.

That will ask some 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 Eroles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in two, make all split, the raging Rocks, and shivering shocks shall break the locks of Prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from far, and make and marre, the foolish fates: Now name the rest of the Players. This is Eroles reigne, a Tyrants reigne, a Lover is more condoling.

Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender

Here Petter Quince

You must take Thisbe on you,

What is Thisbe a wandering Knight?

It is the Lady that Pyramus must love.

Nay faith, let not me play a woman, I have a beard coming

Thats all one, you shall play it in a mask and you may speak as small as you will

And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbe too. I'le speak in a monstrous little voice Thisne Thisne, ah Pyra­mus my lover deare thy Thisbe deare and lover deare.

No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute you This­be

Well proceed.

Robbin Starveling the Taylor

Here Peter Quince

Robbin Starveling you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout the Tinker

Here Peter Quince.

You Pyramus father, my self Thisby's father, Snug the Joyner you the Lyons part; and I hope theres a play fitted

Have you the Lyons part written? Pray you if it be, give it me for I am slow of study.

You may do it Ex tempore for it is nothing but roaring

Let me play the Lyon too, I will Roare that I will do any mans heart good to hear me, I will roare that I will make the Dake say let him roare again let him roare again

if you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladyes that they would shrike and that were enough to hang us all

That would hang every mothers Son

I graunt you freinds that if they should fright the Laydes out of their witts, they would have no more discre­tion but to hang us, but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roare you as gentle as any Sucking Dove, I will roare and twere any Nightingal

You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a sweetfaced man a proper man as one shall see in a Summers day, a most lovely Gentleman like man, therefore you must needs play Pyramus.

Well I will undertake it, what beard had I best play it in?

Why what you will

I will discharge it either in your straw coloured beard, your Orange Tawny beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French crown coloured beard, your perfect Yellow.

Some of your French crowns have no haire at all and then you'l play barefaced. But maisters here are your parts and I am farther to entreat you, request you and de­sire you, to con them by to morrow night, & meet me in the Palace Wood a mile without the Town by moonlight, there we will rehearse, for if we meet in the City wee shall be doggd by company and our devices known; in the mean time [Page]I will draw a bill of properties such as our play wants? I pray fail mee not.

We will meet and there we may rehearse more ob­scenely and Couragiously. Take pain. Be presect. Adieu.

At the Dukes Oake we meet?

Enough hold or cutt Bowstrings—

I remember.

I'le put a Girdel about the earth in forty minutes.

I there it it is.

Are we all met?

Pat pat, and heres a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsall This green Plot shall be our stage, This hau­thorne Brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action as we will do it before the Duke.

Peter Quince.

What sayst thou Bully Bottome?

There are things in this Comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please, first Pyramus must draw a Sword to kill himself which the Ladyes can't abide, how an­swer you that?

Berlaken a parlous feare.

I believe we must leave the killing out, when all's done.

Not a whit, I have advice to make all well. Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seem to say we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed: and for the more better assurance tell them that I Pyramus am nor Pyramus but Bottome the wea­ver, this will put them out of feare.

Well, we will have such a Prologue and it shall be written in eight and six.

No make it two more let it be written in eight and eight.

Will not the Ladyes be afraid of the Lyon?

I fear it I'le promise you.

Masters we ought to consider with our selves to bring in (God sheild us) a Lyon among Ladies is a most dreadful thing, For there is not a more fearfull wild-foule then your Lion living, and we ought to look to it.

Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon.

Nay, You must name his name, and halfe his face must be seen through the Lions Neck, and he himself must speak through saying thus, or to the same effect, Ladyes or faire Ladyes, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would intreat you not to tremble; my life for yours, if you think I come hither as a Lyon it were pitty of my life, no, I am no such thing I am a man as other men are, and there indeed let him name his name and teil plainly I am Snug the Joyner.

Well it shall be so: But there is two hard things, that is to bring the moon light into a Chamber, for you know Pyramus and Thisbe met by moonlight.

Doth the moon shine that night we play our play.

A Calender a Calender look in the Almanack find out moonshine sind out moonshine.

Yes, it doth shine that night?

why then may you leave a casement of the great Chamber window where we play open, and the Moon may shine in at the Casement.

I, or else one must come with a bunch of Thornes and a Lanthorne, & say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moon-shine. Then there is another thing, we must have a wall in the great Chamber, for Pyramus and Thisbe (saies the story) did talk through the Chink of a wall.

You can never bring in a Wall, what say you Bot­tom?

Some man or other must present Wall, and let him have some Plaister, or some Lome, or some Rough cast about him to signifie Wall, or let him hold his fingers thus, and through that Crany shall Pyramus and Thisbe whisper.

If that may be then all is well, come sit down eve­ry mothers son and rehearse your parts, Pyramus you begin, when you have spoken your speech enter into that Brake, and so every man according to his Cue—

What Hempen Home-spuns have we swaggering here so neer the Cradle of the Fayry Queen. What? a play toward? I'le be an Auditor, and Actor too perhaps if I sea cause.

Speak Pyramus Thisby stand forth.

Thisby, the flowers of Odious savours sweet.

Odours, Odours.

Odours savours sweet, so hath thy breath my dearest Thisbe dear. But hark a voice: stay thou but here a while, and by and by I will to thee appear.

A stranger Piramus then ere plaid here.

Must I speak now?

I marry must you. For you must understand that he goes but to see a Noyse that he heard, and is to come again.

Most Radiant Pyramus, Most Lilly white of hue. [Page]Of colour like the red Rose on triumphant Bryer. Most Brisky Juvenal, and the most lovely Jew. As true as truest Horse that never yet would Tyre. I'le meet thee Pyramus at Ninus Tombe.

Ninus Tombe man: why, you must not speak that yet; That you answer to Piramus: you speak all your part at once Cues and all, Piramus enter, your Cue is past, it is, ne­ver Tire.

O as true as truest Horse that yet would never Tire.

If I were faire Thisby I were only thine.

O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted; pray masters fly-Masters help.

I'le follow you, I'le lead you about a round. Through Bog, through Bush, through Brake, through Bryar. Sometimes a Horse I'le be, sometimes a Hound, a Hogge, a headlesse Beare; sometimes a Fire, and Neigh, and Bark, and Grunt, and Roare, and Burn, like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at every turne,

Why do they run away, this is knavery of them to make me afeard.

O Bottome thou art changed, what do I see on thee?

What do I see? you see an Asses head of your own do you?

Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee, thou art transla­ted.

I see their knavery, this is to make an asse of me, and fright me if they could, but I will not stir from this place do they what they can, I will walk up and down here, [Page]and will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid.

What Angel wakes me from my flowry bed?

For indeed who should set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lye though he should cry Cuckow ne­ver so.

Me thinks (Mistresse) you should have little rea­son for that, and yet to say truth reason and love keep little company together now adayes. The more the pitty that some honest neighbours will not make them freinds. Nay I can Gleek upon occasion.

Thou art as wise as thou art beautifull.

Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this Wood, I have enough to serve my own t [...]ne.

Ready and I, and I, and I, where shall we go.

Haile mortal Haile.

Haile.

Haile.

I cry your worships heartily mercy. I beseech your worships name.

Cobweb.

I shall desire you of more acquaintance good Ma­ster Cobweb, if I cut my singer, I shall make bold with you. Your name honest Gentleman?

Pease-blossome.

I pray commend me to Mrs. Squash your Mother and to Master Pease-cod your Father, I shall desire of you more acquaintance too.

Mustard-seed.

Good Mr. Mustard-seed, I know your patience well? That same cowardly Giant-like Ox-Beefe hath de­voured many a Gentleman of your house; I promise your kindred have made my eyes water ere now. I desire [Page]you more acquaintance good Master Mustard-seed.

Where's Pease-blossome?

Ready.

Scratch my head Pease-blossome, where's Monsieur Cobweb.

Ready.

Monseur Cobweb, good Monseur get your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red humble Bee on the top of a Thistle, and good Monsieur bring me the honey bag. Do not fret your self too much in the action Monsieur, and good Monsieur have a care the honey bag break not, I would be loath to have you ore flown with a honey bag Signior. Where's Monsieur Mustard-seed.

Ready.

What's your will?

Nothing good Monsieur, but to help Cavaliero Cob­web to scratch; I must to the Barbers Monsieur, for me thinks I am marvaillous hairy about the face, and I am such a Tender asse if my hair does but tickle me I must scratch.

What wilt thou hear some musick my sweet love?

I have a reasonable good eare in musick, let us hear the Tong and the bones.

Or say sweet love what thou desirest to eate?

Truly a peck of provender, I could maunch your good dry Oates, me thinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay, good hay, sweet hay hath no fellow.

I had rather have a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray let none of your people stirr me, I have an exposi­tion of sleep come upon me.

There lies your love.

Silence a while. Pug take thou off his head

When thou awakes with thine own fools eyes peep.

When my cue comes call me, and I will answer, my next is most faire Pyramus hei ho. Peter Quince, Flute the bellowes mender? Snout the Tinker? Starveling? Gods my life stolne hence and left me asleep, I have had a most rare vision, I had a dream past the witt of man to say what [Page]dream it was. Man is but an Asse if he go about to expound this dream, me thought I was thers no man can tell what me thought I was, and me thought I had, but a man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what me thought I had, the eye of man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to cast, his tongue to conceive, not his heart report what my dream, was. I will get Peter Quince to write a Ballad of this dream, it shall be called Bottomes dream because it hath no Bottom and I will sing it in the la­ter end of the Play before the Duke, peradventure to make, it the more gratious I will sing it at her death.

Have you sent to Bottoms house? is he come yet?

He cannot be heard of, out of doubt he is transpor­ted.

If he come not then the play is marrd, it goes not forward doth it?

It is not possible, you have not a man in all Athent able to discharge Pyramus but he.

Noe: He hath simply the best wit of any handy­crafts man in Athens.

Yea and the best person too, and he is a very Para­mour for a sweet voice.

You must say Paragon, a Paramour is God blesse us a thing of naught.

Masters, the Duke is now coming from being mar­ried at the Temple, oh if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.

O sweet Bully Bottome, thou hast lost six pence a day during his life, he could not have scaped six pence a day, and the Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyra­mus [Page]I'le be hang'd, he would have deserved sixpence a day in Pyramus or nothing.

Where are these lads? Where are these hearts?

Bottome! O most couragious day! oh most hapy hour▪

Masters I am to discourse wonders, but aske me not what, for if I tell you I am no true Athenian, I will tell you every thing as it fell out.

Let us hear sweet Bottome.

Not a word of me, all that I will tell you is that the Duke hath dined, get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new Ribbands to your Pumps, meet pre­sently in the Pallace every man look over his part for the short and the long is, our play is preferred, in any case let Thisby have clean linnen: and let not him that plaies the Lyon pare his Nailes for they shall hang out for the Ly­ons clawes, and most dear actors eate no Onions nor Garlick, for we are to utter sweet breath and doubt not to hear them say it is a sweet Comedy. No more words away: go away.

Merry and Tragical? tedious and breif. That is hot Ice, and wondrous Strange snow? how shall we find a concord in this discord?

What are they that do play it?

And we will hear it, let them approach.

This fellow doth not stand upon points.

He hath read his prologue like a Rough Colt, he knowes not the Stop. A good moral my Lord. It is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

Indeed he hath plaid on his Prologue like a Child on the recorder, a sound but [...]ot in government.

His speech was like a tangled chaine nothing im­paired but all disordered. Who is the next?

I wonder if the Lyon be to speak?

No wonder my Lord, one Lyon may, when ma­ny Asses do.

VVould you desire lime and haire to speak better.

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

Pyramus draws near the wall, Silence—

The Wall me thinks being sensible should curse againe.

No in truth Sir he should not, Deceiving me Is Thisbies Cue, she is to enter, and I am to spy her through the Wall, you shall see it will fall.

Pat as I told you; yonder she comes.

My love, thou art my love I think.

And I like Helen till the fates me kill.

Not Thafalus to Procrus was so true.

As Shalafus to Procrus I to you.

O kisse me through the hole of this vile Wall.

I kisse the Wall hole, not your lips at all.

Will thou at Ninnies tombe meet me straight way?

Tide life ride death I'le come without delay.

Thus have I VVall my part discharged so.

Now is the Moral downe between the two neigh­bours.

No remedy my Lord when Walls are so wilfull.

This is the silliest stuffe that ever I heard.

The best in this kinde are but shaddows, and the worst no worse, if imagination amend them.

It must be your imagination then, not theirs.

If we imagine no worse of them then they of themselves, they may passe for excellent men. Here comes two noble Beasts in, a Man and a Lyon.

A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.

The very best at a beast my Lord that ever I saw.

This Lyon is a very Fox for his valour.

True, and a Goose for his discretion.

Not so my Lord, for his valour cannot carry his [Page]discretion, and the Fox carries the Goose.

His discretion I am sure cannot carry his valour, for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well, leave it to his discretion.

This Lanthorne doth the horned Moon present.

He should have worne the horns on his head.

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

This Lanthorne doth the horned Moon present; my self the man ith Moon doth seeem to be.

This is the grearest error of all the rest, the man should be put in the Lanthorne, how is he else the man in the Moon.

He dares not come in there for the Candle, for you see 'tis already in snuffe.

I am weary of this moon, would he would change,

It appears by his small light of Discretion that he is in the Waine: but yet in curtesie in all reason we must stay the time.

Proceed Moon?

All that I have to say is, to tell you that the Lan­thorne is the Moon; I the man in the Moon, this thorne-Bush my bush, and this Dog my Dog.

Why, all these should be in the Lanthorne, for they are in the Moon. But silence, here comes Thisbe.

This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my love.

Oh—

Well roar'd Lyon.

Well run Thisby.

Well shone Moon. Truly the moon shines with a good grace.

Well mouz'd Lyon

And then came Pyramus

And so the Lyon vanisht

This passion and the death of a dear freind would go neere to make a man look sad.

Beshrew my heart but I pity the man

No dye but am ace for him for hees but one

Less then an ace man for hees dead hees nothing

With the help of a Surgeon he might yet reco­ver and prove an Asse.

How chance moonshine is gon before.

Me thinks she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus I hope she will be breif.

A Moth will turn the ballance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe is the better.

She hath spyed him already with those sweet eyes.

And thus she means. Videlicet.

Moon-shine and lyon are left to bury the Dead.

I and Wall too.

No I assure you, the wall is down that parted their Fathers. VVill it please you to see the Epilogue, or to hear a Burgo-mask dance between two of our company.

No Epilogue 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 playd Pyramus, and hung himself in Thisbies Garter, it had been a fine Tragedy, and so it is truly, and very notably dis­charged; but come, your Burgo-mask, let your Epilogue alone.