LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

       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 hornèd 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 hornèd moon present;

       Myself the man i’ the 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’ the 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 lantern is the moon; I, the man i’ the 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 Thisbe.

       [Enter THISBE.]

       THISBE

       This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?

       LION

       Oh!

       [The LION roars.—THISBE runs off.]

       DEMETRIUS

       Well roared, lion.

       THESEUS

       Well run, Thisbe.

       HIPPOLYTA

       Well shone, moon.—Truly, the moon shines with a good grace.

       [The LION tears THISBE’S Mantle, and exit.]

       THESEUS

       Well moused, lion.

       DEMETRIUS

       And so comes Pyramus.

       LYSANDER

       And then the lion vanishes.

       [Enter PYRAMUS.]

       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 streams,

       I trust to take of truest Thisby’s sight.

       But stay;—O spite!

       But mark,—poor knight,

       What dreadful dole is here!

       Eyes, do you see?

       How can it be?

       O dainty duck! O dear!

       Thy mantle good,

       What! stained with blood?

       Approach, ye furies fell!

       O fates! come, come;

       Cut thread and thrum;

       Quail, rush, 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:—

       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!

       Now die, die, die, die, die.

       [Dies. Exit MOONSHINE.]

       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 prove an ass.

       HIPPOLYTA

       How chance moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover?

       THESEUS

       She will find him by starlight.—Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

       [Enter THISBE.]

       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 Thisbe, is the better.

       LYSANDER

       She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

       DEMETRIUS

       And thus she moans, videlicet.—

       THISBE

       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,

      

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