Enter Lion and Moonshine.

Lion. You, ladies, you, whofe gentle hearts do fear The fmalleft monftrous 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 No Lion fell, nor else no Lion's dam: For if I fhould as Lion come in ftrife Into this place, 'twere pity of my life.

Thef. A very gentle beaft, and of a good confcience. Dem. The very beft at a beaft, my lord, that e'er I faw.

Lyf. This Lion is a very fox for his valour.

Thef. True; and a goose for his discretion. ̧ Dem. Not fo, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his difcretion, and the fox carries the goofe.

Thef. His difcretion, I am fure, cannot carry his valour; for the goofe carries not the fox. It is well; leave it to his discretion, and let us hearken to the

moon.

Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon prefent. Dem. He fhould have worn the horns on his head. Thef. He is no crefcent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present: Myself the man i'th' moon doth seem to be.

Thef. This is the greateft error of all the reft; the man fhould be put into the lanthorn: how is it elfe the man i'th' moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for you fee, it is already in fnuff.

Hip. I am weary of this moon; 'would, he would change!

Thef. It appears by his fmall light of difcretion, that he is in the wane; but yet in courtefy, in all reafon, we must stay the time.

Lf. Proceed, Moon.

Moon. All that I have to fay, is to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon;

this thorn-bush, my thorn-bufh; and this dog, my dog.

Dem. Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for they are in the moon. But, filence; here comes Thisbe.

Enter Thibe.

Thif. This is old Ninny's tomb; where is my love?
Lion. Oh.-
[The Lion roars, Thisbe runs off.

Dem. Well roar'd, Lion.

Thef. Well run, Thibe.

Hip. Well fhone, Moon.

Truly, the Moon fhines with a good grace.

Thef. Well mouz'd, Lion.

Dem. And then came Pyramus.

Lyf. And fo the Lion vanish'd.

Enter Pyramus.

Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy funny

beams;

I thank thee, Moon, for fhining now fo bright; For by thy gracious, golden, glittering ftreams, I trust to taste of trueft Thibe's fight.

But ftay: O fpight!

But mark, poor Knight,

What dreadful dole is here?

Eyes, do you fee!

How can it be!

O dainty duck! O deer!

Thy mantle good,

What, ftain'd with blood!

Approach, you furies fell:

O fates! come, come:

Cut thread and thrum;

Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.

Thef. This paffion, and the death of a dear friend Would go near to make a man look fad.

Hip. Befhrew my heart. but I pity the man.

Pyr. O wherefore, nature, didst thou Lions frame?

Since Lion vile hath here deflouer'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:

Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.

Now am I dead, now am I fled, my foul is in the sky;
Tongue, lofe thy light: moon, take thy flight;
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.

Thef. With the help of a Surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass.

Hip. How chance the Moonshine is gone, before Thibe comes back and finds her lover?

Enter Thifbe.

Thef. She will find him by ftar-light. Here the comes; and her paffion ends the Play. Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one for fuch a Pyramus: I hope, fhe will be brief.

Dem. A moth will turn the ballance, which Pyramus, which Thibe, is the better.

[eyes. Lyf. She hath spy'd him already with thofe fweet Dem. And thus fhe moans, videlicet.

Thif. Afleep, my love?

What dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arife:

Speak, fpeak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? a tomb

Muft cover thy fweet eyes.
These lilly brows,

This cherry nofe,

Thefe yellow cowflip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:

Lovers,

Lovers, make moan!

His eyes were green as leeks.
O fifters three,

Come, come to me,

With hands as pale as milk;

Lave them in gore,

Since you have fhore

With fhears his thread of filk.

Tongue, not a word:

Come, trufty fword;

Come, blade, my breaft imbrue :

And farewel, friends,

Thus Thibe ends;

Adieu, adieu, adieu.

[Dies.

Thef. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too.

Bot. No, I affure you, the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to fee the epilogue, or to hear a bergomaik dance, between two of our company?

Thef. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excufe. Never excufe; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blam'd. Marry, if he, that writ it, had play'd Pyramus, and hung himself in Thibe's garter it would have been a fine tragedy: and fo it is, truly, and very notably difcharg'd. But come, your bergomatk; 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-fleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have over-watch'd.
This palpable gross Play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gate of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this folemnity,
In nightly revel and new jollity.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE III.

Enter Puck.

Puck. NOW the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon:

Whilft the heavy plowman fnoars,
All with weary tafk fore-done.
Now the wafted brands do glow,

Whilft the fcritch-owl, fcritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a fhroud.
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 fun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall difturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,
To fweep the duft behind the door.

2

Enter King and Queen of Faries, with their train.

Ob. Through this 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.

Queen. First rehearse this fong by roat,

To each word a warbling note.
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we fing and bless this place.
VOL. I.

H

The