« PreviousContinue »
Ay, that left pap, where heart doth hop :
Thus die I, 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.
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
Tbel. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass.
Hip. How chance the Moonshine is gone, before Thisoy comes back and finds her lover ?
Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be brief.
Dem. A moth will turn the ballance, which Pyramus, which Thisoy is the better.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus fhe moans, videlicet. -(392) This. Asleep, my love ? What dead, my dove ? O Pyramus arise : Speak, speak. Quite dumb ? Dead, dead ? a tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lilly brows, (40) This cherry nose,
(39) And thus be means -] Thus all the editions have it, I think without any meaning. It should be, thus she moans ; i. e. Jaments over her dead Pyramus. It is said a little above, And ber paffion ends the play:
(40) These lilly lips, this cherry nose.] All Thisby's lamentation, till now, runs in regular rhyme and metre. But both, by some accident, are in this fingle infance interrupted. I suspect, the Poet
These lilly brows,
This cberry rose, Now black brows being a beauty, lilly brows are as ridiculous as a sberry sose, green eyes, or cowhip cheeks,
*These yellow cowslip cheeks,
1198. Moon-shine and Lion are left to bury the dead.' Dein, 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 bergomak dance, between two of our com
Thel. 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 blam'd. Marry, if he, that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hung himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is truly, and very notably discharg'd. But come, your bergomak; let 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 over-watch’d. This palpable gross play hath well beguild The heavy gaite of night. Sweet friends, to bed, A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revel and new jollity.
And the wolf behowls the moon : (41)
All with weary tak fore-done. Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilft 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 spright,
In the church-way paths to glide ; And we Faries, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team, From the prefence of the fun,
Following darkness like a dream, (41) And the wolf beholds be moon :) As it is the design of these lines to characterize the animals, as they present themselves at the hour of midnight; and as the wolf is not justly characteriz'd by faying he bebolds the moon; which all other beats of prey, then awake, do: and as the sounds these animals make at that season, seem alsó intended to be represented; I make no question but the Poet wrote ;
And the wolfe bebowls the moon. For fo the wolf is exa&tly characterized, it being his peculiar property to bowl at the moon ( Bebowl, as bemoan, befeem, betrim, and an hundred others.)
Mr. Warburton. So, again, in As you like it.
Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irisho
wolves againt the noon. So in Beaumont and Fletcber's Faithful Sbépberdess.
or the owl. Or our great enemy, that still doth bowl
Against tbe moon's pale beams. For this is spoken of the wolfe, and by a shepherd, to whom that beast was an enemy, with regard to his flock. And fo in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, where the whole passage seems to be copied from this of our Author.
Now barks the wolf against the full-cheek'd moon;
Now are frolick; not a mouse
Enter King and Queen of Fairies, with their Train.
By the dead and drowsy, fire,
Hop as light as bird from brier;
song by rote,
The SON G.
their children be.
Puck. If we shadows have offended,
have but Numbred here,
Τ Η Σ