Speeches (Lines) for Philostrate in "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

Total: 6
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 V / 1
  • Here, mighty Theseus.
  • Here, mighty Theseus.
  • Theseus. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
    To wear away this long age of three hours
    Between our after-supper and bed-time?
    Where is our usual manager of mirth?
    What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
    To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
    Call Philostrate.

    Philostrate. Here, mighty Theseus.

2 V / 1
  • There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
    Make choice of which your highnes...
  • There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
    Make choice of which your highness will see first.
  • Theseus. Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
    What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
    The lazy time, if not with some delight?

    Philostrate. There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
    Make choice of which your highness will see first.

3 V / 1
  • A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
    Which is as brief as I have k...
  • A play there is, my lord, some 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;
    For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
    Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
    Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
    The passion of loud laughter never shed.
  • Theseus. [Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
    By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
    We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
    In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
    [Reads]
    'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
    Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
    That is an old device; and it was play'd
    When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
    [Reads]
    'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
    Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.'
    That is some satire, keen and critical,
    Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
    [Reads]
    'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
    And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'
    Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
    That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
    How shall we find the concord of this discord?

    Philostrate. A play there is, my lord, some 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;
    For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
    Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
    Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
    The passion of loud laughter never shed.

4 V / 1
  • Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
    Which never labour'd in their mind...
  • Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
    Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
    And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
    With this same play, against your nuptial.
  • Theseus. What are they that do play it?

    Philostrate. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
    Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
    And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
    With this same play, against your nuptial.

5 V / 1
  • No, my noble lord;
    It is not for you: I have heard it over,
    And it is no...
  • 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 sport in their intents,
    Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
    To do you service.
  • Theseus. And we will hear it.

    Philostrate. 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 sport in their intents,
    Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
    To do you service.

6 V / 1
  • So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.
  • So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.
  • Theseus. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
    Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
    And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
    Takes it in might, not merit.
    Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
    To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
    Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
    Make periods in the midst of sentences,
    Throttle their practised accent in their fears
    And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,
    Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
    Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
    And in the modesty of fearful duty
    I read as much as from the rattling tongue
    Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
    Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
    In least speak most, to my capacity.

    Philostrate. So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.

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© Copyright 2017-2021 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.