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Dem. And so comes Pyramus.

Lys. And then the moon vanishes.


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.
But stay-Oh spite !
But mark-poor knight,

What dreadful dole is here?
Eyes, do you see?

How can it be?

Oh, dainty duck!

Oh, dear!

Thy mantle good,

What, stain'd with blood?

Approach, ye furies fell!

Oh, 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.

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Pyr. Oh, 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

Come, tears, confound;

Out sword, and wound

The pap of Pyramus:
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!

[Dies.-Exit Moonshine, L.

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?

The. She will find him by starlight.

and her passion ends the play.

Enter THISBE, L.

Here she comes:

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


Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet


6 Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?

Oh, 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.
Oh, sisters three,

Come, come to me,
With hands 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 imprue;

And farewell, friends,

Thus Thisby ends :

Adieu, adieu, adieu.


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 Burgomask 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 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 Burgomask: let your epilogue alone.

[A dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve : Lovers, to bed, 'tis almost fairy time.

I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have over-watch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.


Enter PUCK, L.

Puck. (c.) Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.

Now the wasted brands do glow,

[Exeunt, R.

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lics 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 hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON ana TITANIA, with their Train, R.

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



Song and Dance.

Now, until the break of day,
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
Ever true in loving be:

And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand:
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.

With this field-dew consecrate,

Fvery fairy take his gait;

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace, with sweet peace:

E'er shall it in safety rest,

And the owner of it bless'd.
Trip away;

Make no stay;

Meet me all by break of day.
If we shadows have offended
Think but this (and all is mended),
That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,

Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend,
And, as I'm an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck,

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call,

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

[Curtain falls.



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