And like Limander am I
trusty still.
THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
THISBY. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY
WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit WALL
THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours.
DEMETRIUS. No
remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
without warning.
HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are
no worse, if
imagination amend them.
HIPPOLYTA. It must be your
imagination then, and not theirs.
THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves,
they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a
man 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 as 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.
THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his
valour.
THESEUS. True; and a goose for his
discretion.
DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his
valour cannot carry his
discretion, and the fox carries the goose.
THESEUS. 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.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present-
DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head.
THESEUS. He is no
crescent, and his horns are
invisible within the
circumference.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the Man i' th' Moon do seem to be.
THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should
be put into the
lantern. How is it else the man i' th' moon?
DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it
is already in snuff.
HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
THESEUS. 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.
LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon.
MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is
the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush;
and this dog, my dog.
DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the
lantern; for all these
are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby.
Re-enter THISBY
THISBY. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
LION. [Roaring] O- [THISBY runs off]
DEMETRIUS. Well roar'd, Lion.
THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.
HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good
grace. [The LION tears THISBY'S Mantle, and exit]
THESEUS. Well mous'd, Lion.
Re-enter PYRAMUS
DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.
LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish'd.
PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy
gracious golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What
dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it he?
O
dainty duck! O dear!
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.
THESEUS. This
passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go
near to make a man look sad.
HIPPOLYTA. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
PYRAMUS. 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 liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop. [Stabs himself]
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. [Exit MOONSHINE]
Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies]
DEMETRIUS. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
LYSANDER. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
THESEUS. With the help of a
surgeon he might yet recover and yet
prove an ass.
HIPPOLYTA. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back
and finds her lover?
Re-enter THISBY
THESEUS. She will find him by
starlight. Here she comes; and her
passion ends the play.
HIPPOLYTA. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
Pyramus; I hope she will be brief.
DEMETRIUS. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God
warrant us: She for a
woman, God bless us!
LYSANDER. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
DEMETRIUS. And thus she moans, videlicet:-
THISBY. 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 lips,
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. [Stabs herself]
And
farewell, friends;
Thus Thisby ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies]
THESEUS. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
DEMETRIUS. Ay, and Wall too.
BOTTOM. [Starting up] 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?
THESEUS. 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
hang'd himself in Thisby's
garter, it would have been a fine
tragedy. And so it is, truly; and very
notably discharg'd. But
come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue alone. [A dance]
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 beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A
fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In
nightly revels and new jollity. Exeunt
Enter PUCK with a broom
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,
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 Hecate's team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are
frolic. Not a mouse
Shall
disturb this
hallowed house.
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train
OBERON. Through the 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.
TITANIA. First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note;
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
[OBERON leading, the FAIRIES sing and dance]
OBERON. 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;