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.

275

HIP. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

PYR. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
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.

280

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 295 prove an ass.

HIP. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

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 ;-

THIS.

Asleep, my love?

What, dead, my dove?

O Pyramus, arise!

Speak, speak. Quite dumb?

Dead, dead? A tomb

Must cover thy sweet eyes.

300

305

310

THE. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

DEм. Ay, and Wall too.

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 335 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 tra- 340 gedy and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. 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.

Enter PUCK.

PUCK. 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,

Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,

But,

[A dance.

345

[Exeunt. 350

355

TWELFTH NIGHT.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, also called the FABIAN,

Count.

SEBASTIAN, brother to Viola.

(FESTE, a clown,

servants to
Olivia.

ANTONIO, a sea-captain, friend to Sebas- OLIVIA, a rich Countess.

tian.

VIOLA, sister to Sebastian; when disguised appears as Cesario.

MARIA, Olivia's woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers,
Musicians, and Attendants.

SCENE: A city in Illyria, and the
sea-coast near it.

Enter DUKE, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending.

DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on;

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.

That strain again! it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,

5

Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more : 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity

10

Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,

But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy,

That it alone is high fantastical.

CURIO. Will you go hunt, my lord?
DUKE.

CURIO. The hart,

15

What, Curio?