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The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
[Flourish of trumpets.
Enter QUINCE for the Prologue.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
That is the true beginning of our end.
We do not come as minding to content you,
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.
Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.
The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter PYRAMUS and THISBE, WALL, MOONSHINE, and Lion.
Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know ;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present 130
Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
And finds his trusty Thisby's. mantle slain : Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. 150
[Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine. The. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.
Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
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! L
O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, О night! alack, alack, alack,
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.
The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me'is
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
Pyr. I see a voice: now will I to the chink, 190
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 lover's grace;
This. And I like Helen, till the fates me kill.
[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.
Enter Lion and MOONSHINE.
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.
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.
[Thisbe runs off Dem. Well roared, Lion.