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Lys. Proceed, moon.
Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, that the lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn bush; and this dog, my dog.
Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for they are in the moon. But, silence; here comes Thisbe.
This. This is old Nindy's tomb: Where is my
love? Lion. 'Oh
[The lion roars.—Thisbe runs off. Dem. Well roared, lion. The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. The. Well moused, lion.
[The Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes.
Pyr. “Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny
beams; • I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright: • For, by thy gracious, golden glittering streams, • I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.
• But stay;- spite!
* But mark:- Poor knight,
• Eyes, do you see?
• Thy mantle good,
Approach, ye furies fell!
.O fates! come, come;
• Cut thread and thrum*; Quail, crush, conclude, and quellt! The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear : • Which is—10, Dom-which was the fairest dame, • That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik’d, that look'd with
• Out, sword, and wound
Ay, that left pap,
• Where heart doth hop :
• Now am I dead,
• Now am I fed ;
* Tongue, lose thy light!
• Moon, take thy flight!
[Dies. Exit Moonshine, Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing
The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance moonshine is
gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?
The. She will find him by star-light.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.
Enter Thisbe. Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one, for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be brief.
• Coarse yarn.
Dem. A mote will turn the halance, which Py. ramus, which Thisbe, is the better.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.
This.. Asleep, my love?
• What, dead, my dove ?
• Dead, dead? A tomb
• These lily brows,
• This cherry nose,
. Are gone, are gone:
• Lovers, make moan!
• sisters three,
• Come, come, to me, With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
• Tongue, not a word:
• Come, trusty sword;
• And farewell, friends ;
* Thus, Thisby ends: Adieu, adieu, adieu.'
(Dies. The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead.
Dem. Ay, and wall too.
Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a bergomask dance, between two of our company?
The. No epilogue, I 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 play'd Pyramus, and hanged himşelf
in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone.
(Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy timè. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming moro, As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable gross play hath well beguild The heavy gait* of night -Sweet friends, to bed.-A fortnight hold we this solemnity, la nightly revels, and new jollity. (Exeunt.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
All with weary task fordonet.
Whilst the scritch-owl, seritching loud,
In remembrance of a shroud.
That the graves, all gaping wide,
In the church-way paths to glide:
By the triple Hecat's team,
Following darkness like a dream,
Enter Oberon and Titania, with their Train.
Obe. Through this house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Hop as light as bird from brier;
Tita. First rehearse this song by rote:
SONG AND DANCE.
Obe. Now, until the break of day,
Make no stay; Meet me all by break of day.
(Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train,