A Fairy Tale in Two Acts Taken from Shakespeare | Page 2

the tinker.
Snowt. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, Thisby'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 slow 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 say, let him roar
again, let him roar again!
Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchess
and the Ladies, that they would shriek, and that were enough to hang us
all.

All. That would hang us every mother's son.
Bot. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the Ladies out of their
wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will
aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently as any sucking
dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus, for Pyramus is a sweet fac'd
man, a proper man as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely
gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in?
Quin. Why what you will.
Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour'd beard, your
orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
French-crown-colour'd beard, your perfect yellow.
Quin. Some of your French-crowns have no hair at all, and then you
will play bare-fac'd. But, masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat
you, request you, and desire you to con them by to-morrow night; and
meet me in the palace-wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight,
there we will rehearse; for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog'd with
company, and our devices known. In the mean time I will draw a bill of
properties, such as our play wants. I pray you fail me not.
Bot. We will meet, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and
courageously. Take pains, be perfect, adieu.
Quin. At the Duke's oak we meet.
Bot. But hold ye, hold ye, neighbours; are your voices in order, and
your tunes ready? For if we miss our musical pitch, we shall be all
'sham'd and abandon'd.
Quin. Ay, ay! Nothing goes down so well as a little of your sol, fa, and
long quaver; therefore let us be in our airs--and for better assurance I

have got the pitch pipe.
Bot. Stand round, stand round! We'll rehearse our eplog--Clear up your
pipes, and every man in his turn take up his stanza-verse--Are you all
ready?
All. Ay, ay!--Sound the pitch-pipe, Peter Quince.
[Quince blows.
Bot. Now make your reverency and begin.
SONG--for Epilogue;
By Quince, Bottom, Snug, Flute, Starveling, Snout.
Quin. Most noble Duke, to us be kind;
Be you and all your courtiers blind,
That you may not our errors find,

But smile upon our sport.
For we are simple actors all,
Some fat,
some lean, some short, some tall;
Our pride is great, our merit small;

Will that, pray, do at court?
II.
Starv. O would the Duke and Dutchess smile,
The court would do the same awhile,
But call us after, low and vile,

And that way make their sport:
Nay, would you still more pastime
make,
And at poor we your purses shake,
Whate'er you give, we'll
gladly take,
For that will do at court.
Bot. Well said, my boys, my hearts! Sing but like nightingales thus
when you come to your misrepresentation, and we are made for ever,
you rogues! so! steal a way now to your homes without inspection;
meet me at the Duke's oak--by moon light--mum's the word.
All. Mum!

[Exeunt all stealing out.
SCENE, a Wood.
Enter a Fairy at one Door, and Puck, or Robin-good-fellow, at another.
Puck. How now, Spirit! whither wander you?
1st Fai. Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through brier,
Over
park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I do wander every
where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,

To dew her orbs upon the green:
I must go seek some dew-drops
here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
AIR.
Kingcup, daffodil and rose,
Shall the fairy wreath compose;
Beauty,
sweetness, and delight,
Crown our revels of the night:
Lightly trip it
o'er the green
Where the Fairy ring is seen;
So no step of earthly
tread,
Shall of end our Lady's head.
Virtue sometimes droops her wing,
Beauties bee, may lose her sting;

Fairy land can both combine,
Roses with the eglantine:
Lightly
be your measures seen,
Deftly footed o'er the green;
Nor a spectre's
baleful head
Peep at our nocturnal tread.
Farewel thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone;
Our Queen and all her Elves
come here