« PreviousContinue »
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
Enter PYRAMUS. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black !
O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, О night! alack, alack, alack,
170 I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!
[Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this !
But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!
The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
181 Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. “Deceiving 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 comes.
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
Pyr. I see à voice: now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby!
This. My love thou art, my love I think.
Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy fover's grace; And, like Limander, am I trusty still. This. And I like Helen, till the fates me kill. Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. This, As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. Pyr. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! This, I kiss the walls hole, not your lips at all. Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? This. , 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. 201
[Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so: And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
[Exit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
The. 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.
The. 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.
213 Enter LION and MOONSHINE. Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour ; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.
230 Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present ;Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.
The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.
Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.
The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : the man should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the man i’ the moon?
Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.
241 Hip. I am aweary of this moon: would he would change !
The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
Lys. Proceed, Moon.
Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thornbush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
249 Dem. Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
[Thisbe runs off Dem. Well roared, Lion.
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly the moon shines with a good grace. [The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit.
The. Well moused, Lion.
Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
But stay, O spite !
But mark, poor knight,
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
Thy mantle good,
What, stain'd with blood !
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! 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 deflower'd my dear:
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
Ay, that left pap,
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine. Now die, die, die, die, die.
[Dies. 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?
301 The. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.
Re-enter THISBE. Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.
Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove ?
Speak, speak. Quite dumb ?
Dead, dead ? A tomb
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
() Sisters Three,