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Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth moonshine: for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. I read as much as from the rattling tongue
This grizly beast, which by name lion hight,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which lion vile with bloody mouth did stain:
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain:
Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade, Philost. So please your grace, the prologue is
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast;
And, Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
Let lion, moonshine, wall, and lover's twain,
At large discourse, while here they do remain.
[Exeunt PROLOGUE, Tuisbe, Lion, and PROLOGUE.
MoonsaiNE. If we offend, it is with our good will.
Thes. I wonder if the lion be to speak. That you should think, we come not to offend,
Dem. No wonder, my lord : one lion may, when But with good will. To shew our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
In this same interlude, it doth befall,
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall: The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
And such a wall as I would have you think, You shall know all that you are like to know.
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramns and Thisby, Thes. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Did whisper often very secretly. Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a young This lime, this roughcast, and this stone, doth shew colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my That I am that same wall; the truth is so: lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Hip. Indeed he hath played on this prologue Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in Thes. Would you desire lime and hair to speak government.
better? Thes. His speech was like a tangled chain; Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is heard discourse, my lord. next?
Thes. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence !
many asses do.
Enter PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE,
and Lion, as in dumb show.
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This beauteous lady Thisby is, certain;
Wall, - that vile wall which did these lovers sunder:
To whisper; at the which let no man wonder.
O night, which ever art, when day is not ?
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine;
[Wall holds up his fingers.
Thanks courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
Thes. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
Bot. No, in truth, sir, he should not. ceiving me,” is Thisby's cue; she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see,- it will fall pat as I told you :- yonder she
Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
[Exeunt Wall, PYRAMTS, and Thiste. Thes. Now is the mural down between the two neighbors.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
Thes. The best in this kind are but shadows : and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
Thes. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.
O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me:
Thy stones, with lime and hair, knit up in thee.
Enter Lion and MOONSHINE.
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby!"
You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Thes. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valor.
Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valor cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
Thes. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.
This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.
Thes. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.
My love ? thou art my love, I think.
Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; And like Limander am I trusty still.
And I, like Helen, till the fates me kill.
Not Shafulus to Procrus, was so true.
As Shafulus to Procrus, I to you.
0, kiss mo through the hole of this vile wall.
Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
"Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.
But stay; -Ospite !
But mark; — Poor knight, This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
What dreadful dole is here!
How can it be! Thes. This is the greatest error of all the rest :
O dainty duck! O dear! the man should be put into the lanthorn, how is it
Thy mantle good, else the man i' the moon ?
What, stained with blood ? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle :
Approach, ye furies fell ! for you see it is already in snuff.
O fates! come, come; Hip. I am weary of this moon: would he would
Cut thread and thrum; change!
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! Thes. It appears, by his small light of discretion, Thes. This passion, and the death of a dear that he is in the wane: but yet, in courtesy, in all friend, would go near to make a man look sad. reason, we must stay the time.
Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Lys. Proceed, moon.
0, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame ? All that I have to say is, to tell you that the lanthorn
Since lion vile hath defloured my dear:
Which is no, no — which was the fairest dame, is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thornbush, my thornbush ; and this dog, my dog.
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with
cheer. Dem. Why all these should be in the lanthorn;
Come, tears, confound; for they are in the moon. But silence; here comes
Out, sword, and wound Thisbe.
The pap of Pyramus :
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky:
Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight!
Now die, die, die, die, die ! [Dies. Oh [The Lion roars. - THISBE runs off.
[Exit MoonSHINE. Dem. Well roared, lion.
Dem. No die but an ace for him; for he is but
n Thes. Well run, Thisbe. Hip. Well shone, moon. Truly, the moon
Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he shines with a good grace.
is nothing Thes. Well moused, lion.
Thes. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet [The Lion tears Tuisbe's mantle, and exit. recover, and prove an ass. Dem. And then came Pyramus.
Hip. How chance moonshine is gone before
Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? Lys. And so the lion vanished.
Thes. She will find him by starlight. Here she Enter PYRAMUS.
comes; and her passion ends the play.
Hip. Methinks she would not use a long one,
for such a Pyramus : I hope she will be brief. For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,
Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which PyI trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.
ramus, which Thisbe, is the better.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jolity. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicit.
Asleep, my love ?
What, dead, my dove ? O Pyramus, arise,
Speak, speak. Quite dumb ?
Dead, dead ? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
Are gone, are gone :
Lovers, make moan!
O sisters three,
Come, come to me,
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword; Come, blade, my breast imbrue;
And farewell, friends ;
Thus Thisby ends : Adieu, adieu, adieu !
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
All with weary task fordone.
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
In remembrance of a shroud.
That the graves all gaping wide,
In the churchway paths to glide :
By the triple Hecate's team,
Following darkness like a dream,
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train.
Thes. 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.
Thes. 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 played Pyramus, and hanged himself 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; 't is almost fairy time. I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn, As much as we this night have overwatched. This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled, The heavy gait of night.— Sweet friends, to bed.
Obe. Through this house give glimmering light.
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Hop as light as bird from brier;
Sing, and dance it trippingly.
To each word a warbling note,
SONG, AND DANCE.
Obe. Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray;
So shall the couples three
their children be.
Make no stay : Meet me all by break of day. [Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train.
Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this (and all is mended),
hands if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. Exit.
Give me your