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Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valor cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor; 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 his 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'the moon doth 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.
Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you, 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.
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, moon.-Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.
The. Well moused, Lion.
[The Lion tears THISBE's mantle, and exit. Dem. And so comes Pyramus. Lys. And so the lion vanished.
"But stay;-0 spite!
"But mark;-Poor knight,
Pyr. "Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams. "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.
"What dreadful dole is here!
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 defloured my dear: "Which is -no, no- which was the fairest dame,
"That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer.
"Come, tears, confound. "Out, sword, and wound "The pap of Pyramus;
"Ay, that left pap,
"Tongue, lose thy light!
[Dies.-Exit Moon-shine. 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, prove an ass.
Hip. How chance moon-shine 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.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
"Come, blade, my breast imbrue,
The. Moonshine and lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and wall too.
Bot. 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?
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 with 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. [Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatched.
In nightly revels, and new jollity.
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
All with weary task foredone.
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,
Following darkness like a dream,
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Train. Obe. 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,
Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote.
SONG AND DANCE.
Obe. Now, until the break of day,