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Pyr. I see a voice: now will I to the chink, I90 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; 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 wall’s 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. 20 I [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. 2 I 3 Enter LION and MOONSHINE.
Lion. You, ladies, you, whose géntle hearts do fear Norm. smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am A lion fell, nor else no lion’s dam ; For, if I should as lion come in strife 22 O Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.
The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The True; and a goose for his discretion. 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. 23O 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. 24 I 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?
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.
Dem. And then came Pyramus. 26o
Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; *** 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 ! Eyes, do you see ? How can it be 2 O dainty duck! O dear! 27,o 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 280 Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: Which is—no, no – which was the fairest dame That lived, that loved, that liked, that look’d with cheer. Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, ..Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself. Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, 29O Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: 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 ? 3o I 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. Dem. And thus she means, videlicet:— 3 IC ‘This. Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove 2 O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb 2 Dead, dead 2 A tomb Must cover thy Sweet eyes. These lily lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone: 32O Lovers, make moan: His eyes were green as leeks.< O Sisters Three, Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
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. |A dance. 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. 350 This palpable gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels and new jollity. [Exeunt. Enter PUCK.
\| Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
/ And the wolf behowls the moon;
| Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
Now the wasted brands do glow,