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Dem. He should have worn the horns on his


The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.


Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present;

" Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.'

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: 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 lantern is the moon; I, the man in the moon ; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern ; for they are in the moon. But, silence; here comes


Enter Thisbe.


This. This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my love? Lion. Oh-.'

[The lion roars.-Thisbe runs off.

Dem. Well roared, lion.
The. Well run, Thisbe.

Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.

The. Well moused, lion.

[The Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit.

Dem. And so comes Pyramus.
Lys. And then the moon vanishes.

* In anger; a quibble.

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny



'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 ;- spite!

"But mark:-Poor knight,
'What dreadful dole is here?
'Eyes, do you see?
'How can it be?

'O dainty duck! O dear!
'Thy mantle good,

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" 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? 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 cheer 1.


'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! 6 Moon, take thy flight! 'Now, die, die, die, die, die.

[Dies.-Exit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. + Destroy. + Countenance.

* Coarse yarn.

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 star-light.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

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.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet


Dem. And thus she


moans, videlicet.-
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 lily brows,
This cherry nose,
'These yellow cowslip cheeks,
'Are gone, are gone:
Lovers, make moan!
'His eyes were green as leeks.
'Ó sisters three,


'Come, come, to me,
'With hands as pale as milk K;.
'Lay them in gore,
6 Since you have shore

'With shears his thread of silk.
'Tongue, not a word:-
'Come, trusty sword;

Come, blade, my breast imbrue;

And farewell, friends ;

6 Thus, Thisby ends:


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Adieu, adieu, adieu.'

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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 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 play'd 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.

[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 overwatch'a. This palpable gross play hath well beguild 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,

All with weary task fordone f.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst 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 sprite,
* Progress.

+ Overcome.

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 frolick; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house :
I am sent, with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter Oberon and Titania, with their Train.
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.

Tita. 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.

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Obe. 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, hair-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious*, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be...
With this field-dew consecrate,

* Portentous.

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