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Philoft. There is a brief, how many fports are ripe: (31) Make choice of which your Highness will fee firft. [Giving a paper. Thef.reads.] The battel with the Centaurs, to be fung (33) By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.

We'll none of that. That I have told my love,
In glory of my kinfman Hercules.
The riot of the tiply Bacchanals,

Tearing the Thracian finger in their rage.
That is an old device; and it was plaid,
When I from Thebes came laft a conqueror.
The thrice three mufes mourning for the death
Of learning, late deceas'd in beggary.
That is fome fatire, keen and critical;
Not forting with a nuptial ceremony.
A tedious brief fcene of young Pyramus,
And his love Thilby; very tragical mirth.
Merry and tragical? tedious and brief?
That is hot ice, and wond'rous ftrange fnow.
How fhall we find the concord of this difcord?
Philoft. A play there is, my Lord, fome 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:

(32) bow many sports are rife:] I have chofen to reftore from one of the old quarto's printed in 1600, ripe, as the most proper word here: ipe, fignifying any thing ready for ufe; rife, only the great increase of any thing.

(33) Lyf. The battel with the Centaurs] Here the fixteen lines, that follow, from the time of the firft folio edition put out by the players, have impertinently been divided, by two verfes alternately, betwixt Thefeus and Lyfander. But what has Lyfander to do in the affair? He is no courtier of Thefeus's, but only an occafional gueft; and just come out of the woods, so not likely to know what sports were in preparation. I have taken the old quarto's for my guides, in regulating this paffage. Thefeus asks after entertainment. Phi leftrate, who is his mafter of the revels, gives him in a lift of what fports are ready: upon which, Thefeus reads the titles of them out of the lift, and then alternately makes his remarks upon them. And this, I dare fay, was the Poet's own defign and diftribution.

For

For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.

Which, when I faw rehears'd, I must confefs,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The paffion of loud laughter never fhed.
Thef. What are they, that do play it?

Philoft. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds 'till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreath'd memories
With this fame play against your nuptials.
Thef. And we will hear it.

Philoft. 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 fport in their intents,
Extremely ftretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you fervice.

Thef. I will hear that play:

For never any thing can be amifs,

When fimplenefs and duty tender it.

Go,bring them in,and take your places Ladies. [Exit Phil
Hip. I love not to fee wretchednefs o'ercharg'd,
And duty in his fervice perishing.

Thef. Why, gentle sweet, you shall fee no fuch thing.
Hip. He fays, they can do nothing in this kind.
Thef. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing-
Our fport fhall be, to take what they mistake;
And what poor [willing] duty cannot do, (34)
Noble refpect takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed

Το

greet me with premeditated welcomes; Where I have feen them fhiver and look pale, Make periods in the midft of fentences, Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, And, in conclufion, dumbly have broke off,

(34) And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect

Takes it in might, not merit.] What cars have thefe poetical editors, to palm this line upon us is a ve fe of Shakespeare? 'Tis certain, an epithet had flip out, and I have ventur'd to reftore fuch a one as the fenfe ray dif, enfe with; and which makes the two verfes flowing and perfect.

Not

Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, fweet,
Out of this filence yet I pick'd a welcome :
And in the modefty of fearful duty

I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of fawcy and audacious eloquence.

Love therefore, and tongue-ty'd fimplicity,
In leaft, fpeak moft, to my capacity.

Enter Philoftrate.

Phil. So please your Grace, the prologue is addreff. Thef. Let him approach.

Enter Quince, for the prologue.

[Flour. Trum

Prol. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you fhould think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To fhew our fimple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Confider then, we come but in defpight..

We do not come, as minding to content you, (35) Our true intept is.-all for your delight,

We are not here.-that you should here repent you, The actors are at hand; and by their fhow, You shall know all, that you are like to know. Thef. This fellow doth not ftand upon points. Ly. He hath rid his prologue, like a rough colt; he knows not the ftop. A good moral, my Lord. It is not enough to fpeak, but to speak true.

Hip. Indeed he hath play'd on his prologue, like a child on the recorder; a found, but not in government.

(35) We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is all for your delight,

We are not here that you should bere repent you,

The Actors are at band; &c] Thus the late accurate editor, deviating from all the old copies, has, by a certain peculiar fatality, pointed this paffage. The whole glee and humour of the prologue is in the actor's making falfe refts, and fo turning every member of the fentences into flagrant nonfenfe. And Mr. Pope feems very cruel to our Author, (confidering how many paffages, which should have been pointed right, he has pointed wrong;) that here, when he should point wrong, with a strange perverfenefs, and unufual appetite for fenfe, he will point right.

Thef

The. His fpeech was like a tangled chain; nothing impair'd, but all diforder'd. Who is the next?

Enter Pyramus, and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and
Lion, as in dumb show.

Prol. 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-caft, doth prefent
Wall, the vile wall, which did these lovers funder:
And through wall's chink, poor fouls, they are content.
To whifper, at the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bufh of thorn,
Prefenteth Moon-fhine: For, if you will know,
By moon-fhine did these lovers think no fcorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grifly beaft, which by name Lion hight, (36)
The trufty Thify, coming firit by night,
Did fcare away, or rather did affright:
And as fhe fled, her mantle fhe let fall;
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did ftain.
Anon comes Pyramus, fweet youth and tall,
And finds his trufty Thisby's mantle flain;
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade.
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast.
And Thiby, tarrying in the mulberry fhade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the reft,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large difcourfe, while here they do remain.

[Exeunt all but Wall. Thef. I wonder, if the Lion be to speak. Dem. No wonder, my Lord; one Lion may, when many affes do.

(36) which Lion bight by name.] As all the other parts of this fpeech are in alternate rhyme, excepting that it clofes with a couples; and as no rhyme is left to, name; we must conclude, either a, verfe is flipt out, which cannot now be retriev'd; or, by a tranfpofition of the words, as I have placed them, the Poet intended a trip let.

Wall

Wall. In this fame Interlude, it doth befal, That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: (37) And fuch a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink; Through which the lovers, Pyr'mus and This by, Did whisper often very fecretly.

This loam, this rough-caft, and this ftone doth fhew,
That I am that fame wall; the truth is fo.

And this the cranny is, right and finifter,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
Thef. Would you defire lime and hair to speak better!
Dem. It is the wittiest partition, that ever I heard
difcourfe, my Lord.

The Pyramus draws near the wall: filence!

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. Ogrim-look'd night! O night with hue fo black
O night which ever art, when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,

I fear, my Thibe's promife is forgot.
And thou, O wall, O fweet and lovely wall,

That ftands between her father's ground and mine Thou wall, O wall, O fweet and lovely wall,

Shew me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. Thanks, courteous wall; Jove fhield thee well for this But what fee I? no Thisby do I fee,

O wicked wall, through whom I fee no bliss;
Curft be thy ftones for thus deceiving me.

Thef. The wall, methinks, being fenfible, fhould curfe again.

Pyr. No, in truth, Sir, he fhould not. Deceiving me, is Thiby's cue; he is to enter, and I am to spy her through the wall. You fhall fee, it will fall pat as I Yonder fhe comes.

told you.

(37) That I, one Flute by name,] Thus Mr. Pope gives it us, either from the old quarto's, or by accident. But accident, or authority, happens to be wrong in it and we must restore, Snout, with the ad folio'; for it appears in the first act, that Flute was to perform Tbifbe.

Enter

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