The. Well run, Thisbe. Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly the moon shines with [The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit. a good grace. The. Well moused, Lion. Lys. And so the lion vanished. Dem. And then came Pyramus. Enter PYRAMUS. 260 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 gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. But stay, O spite! But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here! How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood! Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! 270 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? Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame 280 That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd with cheer. Come, tears, confound; The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself. Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light; Moon, take thy flight: 290 [Exit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. 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. This. Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, Åre gone, are gone: Lovers, make moan: 310 320 His eyes were green as leeks. O Sisters Three, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word: Come, trusty sword: 330 Come, blade, my breast imbrue: [Stabs herself. And, farewell, friends; Thus Thisby ends: Adieu, adieu, adieu. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. [Dies. Bot. [Starting up.] 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? 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 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. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn In nightly revels and new jollity. Enter PUCK. Puck. Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, [A dance. 350 [Exeunt. Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, 360 Obe. Puts the wretch that lies in woe That the graves all gaping wide, By the triple Hecate's team, Following darkness like a dream, To sweep the dust behind the door. Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train. Through the house give glimmering light, Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; Sing, and dance it trippingly. Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote, Obe. Hand in hand, with fairy grace, 370 380 Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song ana dance. Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three And the blots of Nature's hand 390 Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be. And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace; And the owner of it blest Ever shall in safety rest. 400 Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by break of day. [Exeunt Oberon, Titania and train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, So, good night unto you all. 410 420 Give me your hands, if we be friends, [Exit. |