the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to 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.

66

Moon. "This lantern 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 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 weary 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 thornbush; 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.

Enter THISBE.

This. This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my love?"

Lion. Oh-."

Dem. Well roared, lion.

The. Well run, Thisbe.

[The LION roars.-THISBE runs off.

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.

Enter PYRAMUS.

Pur. "Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;

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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,

"What dreadful dole is here?

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Eyes, do you see?

66 How can it be ?

"O dainty duck! O dear!

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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.

In anger; a quibble.

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 lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd with cheer.*

Come, tears, confound;

"Out, sword, and wound

"The pap of Pyramus:

66

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:

66

Tongue, lose thy light!

"Moon, take thy flight!

"Now die, dic, die, die, die."

[Dies.-Exit MOONSHINE.

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 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 spicd him already with those sweet eyes.
Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.

Adieu, adieu, adieu."

The. Moonshine, and lion are left to bury the dead.

Dem. Ay, and wall to.

[Dies.

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 hang'd 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'd.
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.

SCENE II-Enter PUCK.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.t
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,
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 and TITANIA, with their Train.
Cbe. Through this house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy tire:

Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;

* Progress.

† Overcome.

Exeunt.

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.
SONG, and DANCE.

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, 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 gait;

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 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.

Portentous.

[Exit.

+ Way.

SCENE I-Navarre. A Park, with a Palace in it.

Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,

Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,

And then grace us in the disgrace of death;

When, spite of cormorant devouring time,

The endeavour of this present breath may buy

That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.

Therefore, brave conquerors!-for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires,-
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
Our court shall be a little academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Birón, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here: