Enter Pyramus. Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy funny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for fhining now fo bright; For by thy gracious, golden, glittering ftreams, I trust to taste of trueft Thisbe's fight. But ftay: O fpight! But mark, poor Knight, What dreadful dole is here? Eyes, do you fee! How can it be! O dainty duck! O deer! What, ftain'd with blood! O fates! come, come: Quail, crufh, conclude, and quell. Thef. This paffion, and the death of a dear friend Hip. Befhrew my heart, but I pity the man. Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer. Come tears, confound: out fword, and wound The pap of Pyramus. Ay, that left pap, where heart doth hop: Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my foul is in the sky; Dem. No die, but an ace for him; for he is but one. Lyf. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. Thef. With the help of a Surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an afs. Hip. How chance the Moonshine is gone, before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? Enter Enter Thisbe. Thef. She will find him by ftar-light. Here the comes; and her paffion ends the Play. Hip. Methinks, the fhould not use a long one for fuch a Pyramus: I hope, fhe will be brief. Dem. A moth will turn the ballance, which Pyramus, which Thisby is the better. Lyf. She hath fpied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus fhe moans, videlicet. What dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arife: Speak, fpeak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? a tomb Muft cover thy fweet eyes. Thefe yellow cowflip cheeks, His eyes were green as leeks. Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk, Lave them in gore, Since you have fhore With theers his thread of filk. ·(38) (38) And thus fhe means -] Thus all the Editions have it, I think, without any Meaning. It fhould be, thus fhe moans; i. e. laments over her dead Pyramus. It is faid a little above, And her Paffion ends the Play. (39) Thefe lilly Lips, this cherry Nofe,] All Thisbe's Lamentation, till now, runs in regular Rhyme and Metre. But Both, by fome Accident, are in this fingle Inftance interrupted. I fufpect, the Poet wrote; Thefe lilly Brows, This cherry Nofe, Now black Brows being a Beauty, lilly Brows are as ridiculous as a cherry Nofe, green Eyes, or cowflip Cheeks. Tongue, not a word: Come, blade, my breaft imbrue : And farewel, friends, Thus Thisbe ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu, Thef. Moon-fbine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Bot. No, I affure you, the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to fee the epilogue, or to hear a bergomask dance, between two of our company? Thef. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excufe. Never excufe; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blam'd. Marry, if he, that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hung himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and fo it is, truly, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your bergomask; let your epilogue alone. Here a dance of clowns. I fear, we shall out-fleep the coming morn, The heavy gaite of night. Sweet friends, to bed. In nightly revel and new jollity. Enter Puck. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, Whilst the heavy ploughman fnoars, All with weary task fore-done. [Exeunt. Now (40) And the Wolf beholds the moon:] As 'tis the Defign of thefe Lines to characterize the Animals, as they prefent themselves at the Hour of Midnight; and as the Wolf is not juttly characteriz'd by faying he beholds the Moon; which all other Beafts of Prey, then awake, do: and as the Sounds thefe Animals make at that Season, feem alfo Now the wafted brands do glow, Whilft the fcritch-owl, fcritching loud, That the graves, all gaping wide, Enter King and Queen of Fairies, with their train. Ob. Through the house give glimmering light, alfo intended to be reprefented; I make no Queftion but the Poet wrote; And the Wolfe behowls the Moon. For fo the Wolf is exactly characteriz'd, it being his peculiar Property to bowl at the Moon. (Bebowl, as bemoan, befeem, betrim, and an hunMr. Warburton. dred others.) So, again, in As you like it. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the bowling of Irish Wolves against the Moon. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. or the Owl Or our great Enemy, that fill doth howl Against the Moon's pale Beams. For this is fpoken of the Wolfe, and by a Shepherd, to whom that Now barks the Wolf against the full-cheek'd Moon; Every elf, and fairy fprite, Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty after me Sing, and dance it trippingly. Queen. First rehearse this fong by roat, Will we fing, and bless this place. The SON G. Now, until the break of day, Shall upon their children be. Every Fairy take his gate, Puck. If we fhadows have offended, Gentles, |