And such a wall, as I would have you think, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. 160 The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? Dem, It is the witiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Enter PYRAMUS. The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! 170 Pyr. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not ! O night, O night! alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! 180 The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. "Deceiving 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 Yonder she comes. you. Enter THISBE. This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, 190 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. 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 grace; And, like Limander, am I trusty still. This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. Pyr. No Shafalus to Procrus was so true. This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. Pyr O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? This. "Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [Exit. 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. 211 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 man and a lion. Enter LION and MOONSHINE. Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. 221 230 The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. The. True; and a goose for his discretion. 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 lanthorn 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 lanthorn 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 lanthorn. How is it else the man i' the moon? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you it is already in snuff. see, 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. 200 Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn 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 lanthorn; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Enter THISBE. Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. [The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit. The. Well moused, Lion. Lys. And so the lion vanished. Dem. And then came Pyramus. Enter PYRAMUS. Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; 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! How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! 280 290 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 deflower'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; 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; 300 [Stabs himself. i Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine. Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies. 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 starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. Re-enter THISBE. 321 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? 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 330 340 [Dies Thus Thisbe ends : Adieu, adieu, adieu. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead." Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Bt. [Springing 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? 361 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 tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: 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. In nightly revels and new jollity. Puck. Enter PUCK. Now the hungry lion roars, All with weary tasks fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, [4 dance. 370 [Exeunt. Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves all gaping wide, In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, 380 390 |