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me, is Thisby's cue; she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you:--Yonder she comes.
Enter Thisbe. This. “ () wall, full often hast thou heard my
moans, “ For parting my fair Pyramus and me: My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones; " Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.” Pyr. “ I see a voice: now will I to the chink, “ To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. “ Thisby!" This. My love! thou art my love, I think.” Pyr. “ Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's
This. " And I like Helen, till the fates me kill."
wall.” This. “I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at
Pyr. “ Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me
straightway?” This. “Tide life, tide death, I come without de
lay.” Wall. “Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus wall away doth go.
[Exeunt IVall, Pyramus, and Thisbe. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.
Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
The. The best in this kind are but shadows: and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
The. If we imagine no worse of them, than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in,-a moon and a lion.
Enter Lion and Moonshine. Lion. “ You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do
fear “ The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on
floor, "May now, perchance, both quake and tremble
here, “ “ When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. “ Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am “A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam: " For if I should as lion come in strife “ Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.” The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con
science. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
Dem. Not so, my lord: for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for 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 bis 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'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.
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.
This. “This is old Ninny's tomb: Where is my
love?” Lion. “oh—” [The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off.
Dem. Well roar'd, lion,
Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. The. Well mous'd, lion.
[The Lion tears Thisbe's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And then the moon vanishes.
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 ;-0 spite!
“ But mark;—Poor knight, " What dreadful dole is here? Eyes, do
“ 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.
Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
frame? « Since lion vile hath here deflour'd my
“ Which is no, no—which was the fairest dame,
Out, sword, and wound
“ Where heart doth hop:“ Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
“ Now am I dead,
“ Now am I fled;
Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight! “ Now die, die, die, die, die.
[Dies. Erit Moonshine. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but
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.
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.