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our; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well : leave it to bis disco on, and let

listen to the moon. Moon. • This lantern doth the horned moon present:'Dem. He should have worn the horns on his bead.

The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. “This lantern doth the horned moon present Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.'

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : the man should be put into the lantern : How is it else the man i' th' moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.' Hip. I am a-weary of this moon: Would, he would

change! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that be 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 lantern is the moon ; I, the man in the moon; this thornbush, 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.

Enter Thisbe. This. “This is old Ninny'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 Tuisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes.

Enter PYRAMUS. 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. (1) An equivocation. Smfi signifies both the cinder of a candle, and hasty

JOHNSON (2) To mouse signified to mammock, to tear in pieces, as a cat tears a mouse

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• But stay ;-0 spite !

• But mark ;-Poor knight, • What dreadful dole is bere ?

• Eyes, do you see?

• How can it be?
• O dainty duck! O dear!

• Thy mantle good,
• What, stain'd with blood ?
Approach, ye furies fell !"

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. Pyr. “O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame ?; • Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my dear: 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, sword, and wound

рар of Pyramus :
Ay, that left pap,
• Where heart doth hop :-
• Thus die 1, thus, thus, thus.

• 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. Ex. MOONSH.



[3] The poet here, and in the following lines spoken by Thisbe

“O sisters three,
" Come, come to me,

" With hands as pale as milk-" probably intended to ridicule a passage in Damon and Pythias, by Richard Edwards, 1582. MALONE.

(4) Thrum is the end or extremity of a wearer's warp ; it is popularly used for very coarse yarn. The maids now call a mop of yarn a lhrum mop:

WARNER. [5] To quell is to murder, to destroy. STEEVENS.

(6] Lest our author should seem chargeable with an inefficient rhyme, it ought to be remembered that the broad pronunciation, now almost peculiar to the Scotch, was anriently current in England. Throug bout the old copies of Shakespeare's plays, "tattered" is always spelt "tottered," Pap therefore was sounded Pop. The context reminds us of a passage in the seventh Satire of Juvenal :

* - lava in parte miamille
" Nil salit.--" STEEVENS.

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 no

thing. 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.

Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, 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 love ? O Pyramus, arise,

•Speak, speak. Quite dumb ?

• Dead, dead ? A tomb
• Must cover thy sweet eyes.

• These lily brows,

• This cherry nose,
• These yellow cowslip cheeks,

• Are gone, are gone :
Lovers, make moan!

His eyes were green as leeks. [?] The character of These us throughout this play is more exalted in its humanity, than its greatness. Though some sensible observations on life, and aniinated description, fall from him, as it is said of lago, you shall taste him more as a soldier than as a wil, which is a distinction he is here striving to deserve, though with little success ; as in support of his pretensions he never rises higher than a pun, and frequently sinks as low as a quibble. STEEVENS.

[8] The old copies concur in reading--means STEEVENS. ÀIr. Theobald aitered means to moans : but means had anciently the same signification. Mr. l'inkerton (under the game of Robert Heron, Esq.) observes that it is a common term in the Scotch law, signifying to tell, to relate, to declare ; and the petitio:s to the lords of session in Scotland, run: “ To the lords of countil and session humlely means and shows your petitioner." Here, however, it evidently signifies cumplains. Bills in chancery begin in a similar manner : “ Humhly complaining sheweth unto your lordship," &c. The word occurs in an ancient manuscript in my own possession:

* This ender day wen me was wo,

“ Under a bugh ther I lay, So again, in a very ancient Scottish song:

"! bardzee way sair mwrne and meyne." RITSON.

« Narht cale to mene me to."

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pany ?

O sisters three,
• Come, come, to me,
• With bands as pale as milk ;

• Lay them in gore,
• Since you have shore
• With shears his thread of silk.

Tongue, not a word :-
• Come, trusty sword;
“Come, blade, my breast imbrue :

• 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 com

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 bimself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a tine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. Butcome, your Bergomask: your epilogue alone.

[Here a dance of Clowns.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve :-
Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
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. SCENE II.

Enter Pock.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,'

And the wolf behowls the moon ;
A Burgomask dance (as Sir T. Hanmer observes in his Glossary) is a dance
after the manner of the peasants of Bergumesco, a country in Italy, belonging to

All the bufiouns in Italy affect to imitate the ridiculous jargon of that people, as well as their manner of dancing STEEVENS. [01:' has been justly observed by an anonymous writer, that among this 2senblage of familiar circumstances attending midnight, either in England Vol. III.


tbe Venetians.

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task fordone.'
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide :
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic ; not a mouse
Shall disturb this ballow'd house :
I am sent, with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train.
06. Through this house give glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsy fire :
Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier ;
And this ditty, after me,

Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Tit. First, rehearse the song by rote :

To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.


or its neighbouring kingdoms, Shakespeare would never have thought of intermix. ing the exotic idea of the hungry lion roaring, which can be beard do nearer than in the deserts of Africa, if he had not read in the 104tb Psalm: “ Thou makest dark ness that it may be night, wherein all the beasts of the forest do move; the lions roaring after their prey, do seek their meat from God." MALONE.

I do not perceive the justness of the foregoing anonymous writer's observation Puck, who could " encircle the earth in forty minutes," like his fairy mistress

, might have snufied the spiced Indian air;" and consequently an image,

foreign to Europeans, might have been obvious to him. Our poet, however, inattentive to little proprieties, has sometimes introduced his wild beasts in regions wbere tbey are never found STEEVENS

[!] Fordone—i. e. overcome. STEEVENS.

[2] Cleanliness is always necessary to invite the residence and the favour of the fairies :

" These make our girls their slutt'ry rue,
“ By pinching them both black and blue,
" And put a penny in their shoe
“ The house for cleanly sweepiog." Drayton JOHNSON.

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