Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valor cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

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The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well. his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

Moon. "This lantern 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 lantern doth the horned moon present. "Myself the man i'the moon doth 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 Thisbe.


Where is my love?"

This. "This is old Ninny's tomb.

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 so the lion vanished.


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;-O spite!

"But mark;-Poor knight,

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"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 defloured my dear:

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"Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame, "That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer. "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 Moon-shine.

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 moon-shine 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.


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 eyes.

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.
"O 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 imbrue,


"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 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 with 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 outsleep the coming morn,

As much as we this night have overwatched.
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.



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,
Every fairy take his gate;

And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace.
E'er shall it in safety rest,

And the owner of it blest.
Trip away;
Make no stay;

Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train.

Puck. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, (and all is mended,)
That you have but slumbered 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.


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