A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. Уильям Шекспир
Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
Tomorrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,—
A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal,—
Through Athens’ gates have we devis’d to steal.
HERMIA
And in the wood where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet:
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!—
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers’ food, till morrow deep midnight.
LYSANDER
I will, my Hermia.
[Exit HERMIA.]
Helena, adieu:
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you!
[Exit LYSANDER.]
HELENA
How happy some o’er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath love’s mind of any judgment taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil’d.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjur’d everywhere:
For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,
He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolv’d, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight;
Then to the wood will he tomorrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again.
[Exit HELENA.]
SCENE II. The Same. A Room in a Cottage
[Enter SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, QUINCE, and STARVELING.]
QUINCE
Is all our company here?
BOTTOM
You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip.
QUINCE
Here is the scroll of every man’s name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and duchess on his wedding-day at night.
BOTTOM
First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
QUINCE
Marry, our play is—The most lamentable comedy and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
BOTTOM
A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry.— Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll.— Masters, spread yourselves.
QUINCE
Answer, as I call you.—Nick Bottom, the weaver.
BOTTOM
Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
QUINCE
You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
BOTTOM
What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
QUINCE
A lover, that kills himself most gallantly for love.
BOTTOM
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 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’ car
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.
QUINCE
Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
FLUTE
Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE
Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
FLUTE
What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
QUINCE
It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
FLUTE
Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.
QUINCE
That’s all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
BOTTOM
An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too: I’ll speak in a monstrous little voice;—‘Thisne, Thisne!’— ‘Ah, Pyramus, my lover dear; thy Thisby dear! and lady dear!’
QUINCE
No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
BOTTOM
Well, proceed.
QUINCE
Robin Starveling, the tailor.
STARVELING
Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE
Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby’s mother.—
Tom Snout, the tinker.
SNOUT
Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE
You, Pyramus’ father; myself, Thisby’s father;—
Snug, the joiner, you, the lion’s part:—and, I hope, here is a play fitted.